Chapter Eight
Sylvie
Kenai stood, extending his hand to me. This wasn’t like my other Tinder dates or drunken hookups.
He wasn’t pushing me, wasn’t rushing to get me into bed, despite the heat I could smell rolling off him—the scent that had my thighs clenching as my nerves throbbed.
But he didn’t move, just held out his hand, waiting for me.
I took it, ready to say something snarky, but as our skin met, everything in me stilled. He’s safe. He’s home. It’s safe to trust him.
He led me through the chalet to his bedroom.
It was huge, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the sharp peaks.
Snow fell silently outside—soft, heavy flakes that floated in all directions, as if they had a will of their own.
The floor was lined with a jute, or perhaps straw, rug.
I guessed reindeer wouldn’t want a fur one.
His bed was massive, bigger than a California king, and piled high with fluffy-looking blankets I immediately wanted to dive into.
My body moved of its own accord, and I tossed myself into the pile.
It smelled like Kenai—fresh and clean, with spicy hints of peppermint and cardamom.
That fragrance was mixed with something else, something closer to rain and cloves.
I buried my face deeper until I was almost consumed.
The two scents together were even better than Kenai’s alone, and every nerve in my body calmed as I wrapped myself in it.
This felt right, being nestled in soft fabrics, surrounded by traces of my alpha.
That thought jolted me back to reality. I realized Kenai had been speaking.
“—touch you?”
“What?” I asked, my mind barely attached to my body.
“Can I touch you, Sylvie?”
“Yes.” Verbal consent. The lawyer in me was still awake somewhere in there.
Warm hands wrapped around my waist, and a broad chest pressed against my back as he curled up behind me. His lips found the base of my neck, and I immediately let out a very pathetic whimper.
His hands were gentle. Too gentle. I wasn’t used to that. The sex I’d been having was fast and rough and occasionally ended in an orgasm. This wasn’t that.
I wanted him to stop being so kind. In my experience, kindness held ulterior motives, and accepting it meant showing weakness. Kindness required trust, and trust required vulnerability—and I’d built my entire life around never being vulnerable. Ever.
But deep inside me something was purring, settled, finally feeling safe.
Safe. When had I ever felt safe with someone?
“You’re shaking,” Kenai murmured against my neck, his breath hot on my skin.
“Cold,” I managed, though we both knew I was lying. The heat was a living thing inside me now, coiling tighter with every second his hands lingered on my waist, every brush of his lips against my throat.
“Is that so?” His voice was amused. His hands slid up my sides slowly, deliberately, barely touching me—and it was torture. “Let me warm you up. Tell me what you need.”
You. I need you. Please.
But I couldn’t say that. Couldn’t admit how desperately I wanted him, how the heat was burning away every rational thought until all that remained was need.
“I don’t—” My voice broke as his teeth grazed the newly sensitive spot on my neck, making my back arch. “Kenai, I need more.”
A deep rumble vibrated in his chest, a pleased sound that had arousal soaking my panties. This was so fucking pathetic.
He turned me to face him, and the look in his silver eyes stole my breath. “Say what you really mean, Sylvie.”
His thumb traced my lower lip. “Your body knows it. I can smell it on you—not just the heat, but the fear underneath it. You’re terrified. Tell me why.”
“I’m not—” Another wave of heat crashed through me, stealing my words, my breath, my ability to think. I gasped, my hands already somehow wrapped around his waist.
Kenai pulled me tight against him. “Enough running, Sylvie. Let me help you.”
He started tugging at my shirt, and I pushed his hand away. “I can do it.” But my arms were already sliding around his neck, my face buried against his throat where his scent was strongest.
“I know you can. You can do everything on your own. You’ve been doing it your whole life.” He rolled me onto my back, buried in that massive nest of blankets. “But you don’t have to. Not anymore. Not with me.”
He laid me down gently, and I immediately tried to sit up, to regain some control. “Kenai—”
“Shh.” He pressed a finger to my lips. “What color?”
The safe word check cut through my panic. He was giving me an out, even now—even when I could smell his rut, see the tension in his body, feel his erection pressed against my stomach.
He’s giving you a choice. He’s safe.
“Green,” I whispered. “But—”
“No buts.” He climbed over me, propping himself on one elbow so he could peer down at me. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to touch you. Kiss you. Learn what makes you come undone. I’m going to take care of you, like an alpha should.”
His hand traced down my throat, over my collarbone, and I arched into the touch without meaning to.
“But, Sylvie?” His voice dropped lower, intimate as his warm breath tickled the skin beneath my ear.
“When you come apart in my arms, when you finally let yourself feel everything you’ve been running from—I’m going to be right here.
Holding you. Keeping you safe. Showing you I won’t hurt you. I would never hurt you.”
“You can’t promise that.” My voice was breaking, tears burning my eyes. “You can’t know—”
“I can.” He kissed my forehead, my cheeks, the corners of my mouth. “Because I see you, Sylvie Hartwell.”
Another wave of heat hit, stronger this time, and I cried out. My body was burning, aching, demanding relief. But Kenai just held me through it, his hands steady and sure, his voice a low murmur of comfort.
“I’ve got you. Breathe, baby. I’ve got you.”
Baby. The endearment broke something in me.
“That’s not something I know how to do.”
“Then don’t trust me yet.” He kissed away my tears. “Just let me take care of you right now, in this moment. Everything else can wait. Can you do that?”
The heat was overwhelming, narrowing my world to him—to his hands, to the desperate need clawing through me. My omega instincts were screaming at me to surrender, to stop fighting, to let my alpha make it better.
My alpha.
Oh god, I had to stop this before I—
“Sylvie.” His hand cupped my face, gentle but firm. “Color.”
I looked up at him—at his silver eyes full of patience and tenderness, at the careful way he was holding himself back despite his rut, at the promise of safety written in every line of his body.
“Yellow.”
“Should I stop?”
“No.”
He kissed my forehead, then my cheek, and moved down to my throat. Lower still, his lips grazed my sternum, then the hollow above my belly button. I watched his antlers as he descended, the way the velvety-soft surface sparkled in the warm light, how the tips lightly grazed my skin.
His scarred fingers traced along my inner thighs, pressing them wide as he settled between them. He lifted one of my legs over his shoulder and nipped at the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, drawing in a deep inhale.
“Kenai!” God, this was so embarrassing.
“You smell so fucking good.”
Before I could retort, his tongue pressed directly against my clit and he let out a very animalistic groan.
My hips bucked, and his fingers sank into my thighs, holding me tight.
His antlers swayed as his mouth experimented with different strokes, testing what would undo me.
The thing was, everything he did felt incredible.
It was as if every nerve in my body had been cranked into overdrive.
I was a mess, writhing at every flick on his tongue, every suck.
I wasn’t giving him much guidance, but he didn’t need it—it was like he knew my body better than I did. Within minutes he’d honed into a pattern that had my legs thrashing. He groaned as his tongue circled me over and over, the vibrations sweet and resounding.
“Kenai, I’m going to—”
His next moan was clearly affirmative, but he didn’t stop, keeping his pace steady. Just as I was about to fall over the edge, he sank two long fingers inside me, curling directly onto the deep pressure point that had me shattering.
The orgasm started softly, a slow unraveling that seemed to go on forever, light sparking at the edges of my vision.
Kenai held me through it all, and I looked down to see his beautiful silver eyes watching me, pupils blown wide.
We were coated in slick when the waves finally eased, but all I could think was more.
It had been the best orgasm of my life and I immediately wanted more—like it had stoked the fire within me instead of putting it out.
“Kenai…” My voice was a pathetic whine. Even as I continued pulsing around his fingers, I knew it wasn’t enough; another shiver of pain rolled through my body.
“Kenai, please. More.”
He lifted up, climbing over me. He was smiling, and I wanted him to say something cocky, something I could cling to as I built up my mental defenses against him. But instead…
“Whatever you need, Sylvie. I want to watch you do that over and over again.”
He kissed up my stomach, being so careful with me—every touch deliberate, asking permission with his eyes before he moved. It made something in my chest crack open, and I desperately wanted to seal it shut again.
This was supposed to be simple. A solution to a problem.
So why did it feel like, after a long, cold, disgusting city winter, my heart was melting?
I couldn’t meet his gaze, and he knew why. But rather than pulling some masculine bullshit, he slid a pillow beneath me, guiding me onto my stomach.
My nose burrowed into the blankets, my hypersensitive nipples dragging over the soft sheets as he tugged my hips up.
“Just feel. Can you do that for me?” he whispered into my ear. I nodded, clutching the blankets in my fists like a lifeline, not looking at him.
“Let me take care of you,” he murmured against my skin, and my omega instincts surged. Yes, trust him. Surrender, let him—
No. I’d never let anyone take care of me. Not really. Taking care of myself was the only thing I could count on.
But my body was melting into his touch, and I hated how good it felt to let go.
His cock notched against me, and before I could stop myself, I was begging. “Kenai, please…” Absolutely pathetic.
His hips pressed forward slowly, and the stretch was exquisite—just enough to feel impossibly full, but not enough to pinch. God, even his dick was perfect. He pushed until he met resistance, then eased back, placing a kiss between my shoulder blades before sinking in further.
“I’ve got you,” Kenai promised, and the worst part was that I believed him.
I believed him, and that terrified me more than the heat ever could.
Because people didn’t stay. People left. They resented your success and your drive, and they belittled you. When you finally decided to leave, they didn’t even bother pretending you were worth fighting for. Trusting was a mistake. It was easier not to trust at all.
My omega instincts didn’t care about easier. They wanted to surrender to this—to him—to finally stop fighting.
I was so tired of fighting.
I wanted to run. I wanted to stay. I wanted to push him away and pull him closer. I couldn’t reconcile the two warring parts of myself—the lawyer who’d learned that independence was survival, and the omega who whispered that maybe, just maybe, I didn’t have to do this alone anymore.
He moved faster now, the slap of his hips against my ass obscene, only outmatched by the wanton sounds coming from me…and him.
“Sylvie,” he panted, his breath no longer steady, “you feel amazing. So fucking good.” The unexpected profanity had me clenching, and he let out a low groan. “You have no idea how badly I want to—” He cut himself off.
“What?” I asked, turning my head toward him.
He let out a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a moan before running his nose along my cheek. “I can practically hear your brain overthinking. Guess I’m not doing a good enough job.”
Kenai kissed me, shifting my hips so with each stroke I felt every inch of him dragging across the deepest part of me. My eyes rolled back as he picked up his pace.
“Come for me again, baby,” he rasped.
For once, it wasn’t hard to obey. He thrust deep, grinding against me until I fell apart again. This one was stronger than before, my walls gripping him tight with each wave as I moaned into the blankets.
“Fuck…” Kenai kept moving, but I felt him twitch inside me. “Sylvie, my—”
He broke off as I felt a tiny prick at the back of my neck—hot and cold all at once, like the shock of stepping into an icy puddle while trying to catch a cab.
But then he pulled away, and the feeling was gone.
I rolled over to see him sitting back on his knees, skin flushed and eyes defocused. But he shook his head, antlers sparkling as he refocused on me. He flashed that snow-white smile again before moving to lie beside me.
“Feeling better?” he asked, pulling me against his side.
His heartbeat was steady beneath my ear, slowing from its frantic pace.
I was feeling better—the heat dulled to something manageable, almost pleasant—and my body felt loose and satisfied in a way I couldn’t remember ever feeling before.
I tucked my face against his chest as more stupid tears rose in my eyes.
“You okay, baby?” Kenai’s voice was a rumble, soft and concerned.
I should say yes. I should make some quip, keep this light and transactional like I’d promised.
But he was running his fingers through my hair. And he’d been so careful with me, so attentive.
No one had ever—
My throat went tight. This was too much. I’d felt too much, let him see too much. The way I’d fallen apart in his arms, the sounds I’d made, how desperately I’d begged for him. That wasn’t compartmentalized.
That was vulnerable—and I didn’t do vulnerable. Ever.
“I need—” My voice came out rough. I cleared my throat and pulled away from his warmth, immediately missing it and hating that I missed it. “I need to clean up.”
Kenai’s hand lingered on my arm. “Sylvie—”
“I’m fine. Just…give me a minute.” I grabbed my discarded clothes and fled to the bathroom before he could say whatever soothing thing was forming on his lips.
Before I could let myself want to hear it.