Chapter 11 – REGINA
REGINA
Rowan's hand is warm and steady as he leads me away from the table. His fingers wrap around mine with a gentleness that belies the hunger radiating through our newly formed bond. The energy between us flows from his body to mine and back again in an endless loop.
Behind us, I can sense the others watching. Three sets of eyes tracking our every movement with hungry possessiveness. They're giving Rowan his moment, his turn, but their presence remains a constant awareness at the edges of my consciousness.
"Where are we going?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.
Rowan's lips curve into a smile that transforms his usually serious face. "Somewhere comfortable."
He guides me toward the sunken conversation pit in the living room—the nest they built for me earlier. It looks different now, arranged with fresh blankets and pillows in a circular pattern that seems almost ceremonial. The sight of it sends a shiver of excitement down my spine.
"You planned this."
"We hoped," he corrects, his accent a little more pronounced with emotion. "There's a difference."
He steps down into the pit first, then turns to offer his hand again, helping me down. The gesture is… unnecessary, but touching. Another reminder of how these wolves see me. Not as a tool or a battery, but as a mate to be cherished.
It's still disorienting, this reverence. I don't know what to do with it, how to process being wanted so completely, so unabashedly. All the little gestures and ways they make it known.
Once we're standing in the center of the nest, Rowan reaches up to cup my face, his thumb tracing the edge of my glamour where it meets real skin.
"May I see you?" he asks, his voice a low rumble. "The real you?"
My heart stutters in my chest. The others hover at the edge of the pit, waiting and watching. I can feel their hope through the bond.
"Yes," I whisper, the word barely audible.
I close my eyes and reach for my magic, finding it responsive and eager in a way it never was with the coven bond. With a simple, hesitant thought, I release the glamour, swallowing hard as I feel it dissolving away from my scars.
When I reluctantly open my eyes, Rowan is staring at me with such intensity that I look away instinctively. But there's nothing in his gaze but wonder and… want.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, tracing the silvered edges of my scars with reverent fingertips. "You are so fucking beautiful. My mate."
The sincerity in his voice makes my throat tight. Through our bond, I can feel his genuine appreciation, his desire. Not in spite of my scars, but somehow inclusive of them.
I do not fucking understand.
But behind him, I hear a collective intake of breath from the others. Not regret, either. Not even close.
"Perfect," Killian says from the edge of the nest.
"Told you," Sean adds, his voice unusually soft.
Micah says nothing, but he doesn't need to. The wave of adoration that flows from him through our bond says it all.
Fuck, these wolves will be the death of me.
Rowan leans in slowly, giving me time to pull away if I want to. But I don't. Instead, I meet him halfway, our lips connecting in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly turns hungry. His hands slide into my hair, cradling the back of my head as he explores my mouth.
I have to fight to resist the urge to turn my face when his lips brush the torn corner of my lips, and I let out a soft, nervous sound that's embarrassingly close to a whimper.
He tastes like coffee and mint, clean and crisp. His scent envelops me, old books and sandalwood. I've come to associate that scent with safety, with home.
When we finally break apart, his eyes have darkened to the color of rich soil after rain. "I've been wanting to do that since the moment I saw you," he admits, his voice a bit rough.
"Worth the wait?" I ask, surprising myself with my teasing tone that isn't as self-deprecating as it usually would be.
His answering smile is slow and promising. "Worth everything, gorgeous."
With deliberate movements, he begins to undress me.
First my sweater, lifted over my head and set aside with care.
Then my jeans, eased down my legs as I step out of them.
Each newly exposed inch of skin receives his attention.
A brush of fingertips, a press of lips, a whispered word of appreciation like he wants to learn and map every part of me.
"You have a freckle here," he murmurs, pressing his lips to a spot just below my collarbone. "And here." Another kiss, this time to my ribs.
By the time I'm standing before him in just my underwear, my body is like a live wire, sparking at his every touch. I reach for him, tugging at his shirt. "Your turn."
He obliges, pulling his shirt over his head to reveal a torso that's leaner than Killian's but no less defined.
Where Killian is all raw power, Rowan is elegant strength, his toned muscles flowing smoothly beneath his bronze skin.
I trace the contours of his chest, marveling at the contrast between his controlled exterior and the heat I can feel building within him.
The rest of his clothes follow quickly, both of us growing more impatient with each piece of fabric that hits the floor of the nest. When we're finally skin to skin, his hardness pressing insistently against my stomach, separated only by my panties, he guides me down onto the blankets with gentle hands.
"Let me see all of you," he murmurs, positioning himself between my thighs.
I lay back, exposed and vulnerable, but not the way I'm used to.
This type of vulnerability is thrilling.
Rowan's gaze travels over my body and his hands tighten on my hips, like he's having to resist diving in.
He pulls off my underwear with the same methodical care he's shown throughout, folding them neatly and setting them aside.
I freeze. "Did you just… fold my panties?"
He looks down at my very folded panties and laughs awkwardly. I hear a snicker in the background—Sean's—that reminds me the others are nearby even if they're giving us space.
"I, uh, guess I did."
I can't help but laugh, reaching up to stroke his hair back from his face. "You're fucking adorable."
He blows a puff of air through his lips. "That's what every alpha shifter is aiming for. Adorable."
"Well, it should be," I assure him, kissing him again. He deepens it, the kiss intensifying until I can tell all is forgiven.
Then he lowers his head, and all coherent thought flees as his mouth finds me.
His tongue traces patterns that make my back arch and my fingers clutch at the blankets beneath me.
Unlike Killian's raw hunger or Sean's playful enthusiasm, Rowan approaches this like everything else, with attention to detail and an almost academic thoroughness.
He learns my body with the same focus he might apply to studying an ancient text, noting each gasp and shudder, each place that makes me moan.
And when he finds a particularly sensitive spot, he returns to it again and again.
His tongue swirls around my clit in circles, then flattens to lick a long, slow stripe from my entrance to the sensitive bundle of nerves.
I'm already soaking wet from just kissing him, and everything he's doing with his mouth feels like it's going to push me over the edge.
"Your taste," he growls against my inner thigh. "Like nothing I've ever experienced. I could taste you forever."
"Keep doing that thing with your tongue and I won't last another minute," I warn, my voice breathless as his fingers join his mouth. Two slide inside me, curving upward to find my spot.
"Rowan," I gasp, my hips bucking to meet his touch.
"Good girl," he murmurs against my skin. "Let go for me, beautiful."
I'm vaguely aware of the others watching, their scents mingling with ours. It should be sensory overload, but they all layer on top of each other perfectly in a blend so perfect, if they somehow found a way to make a candle out of it, I'd definitely get kicked out of the store for huffing wax.
When Rowan finally rises up over me, his lips glistening with evidence of my arousal, his eyes are almost black. "I need to be inside you," he says, panting slightly, his usual eloquence stripped away by raw need.
"Yes," I breathe, reaching for him. "Please."
He positions himself at my entrance, the head of his cock nudging against me. He's fully erect, the tip of his shaft glistening with precome. He pushes into me with a low growl until I feel the bump of his knot stop against my pussy.
I have no fucking idea how I'm going to take that thing, but I'm surprisingly eager to try.
Once fully seated, everything but the knot, he pauses, giving me time to adjust to his size. "You okay?" he asks, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.
"More than okay," I assure him, rolling my hips.
He groans, the sound rumbling through his chest and into mine where our bodies press together. "I'll be careful," he promises, as if he can read my thoughts directly through our bond. "I know you're not ready to take my knot yet."
"Probably not," I breathe, even if my pussy suddenly has other ideas.
I don't know everything about omegas, other than the fact that they have influence over alphas and apparently terrify these ones.
They're built for taking knots, but even then, I'm pretty sure heat makes it easier.
I don't have slick, even if I'm so wet from everything Rowan is doing to me that I almost wonder for a second.
"Fuck," Micah murmurs from somewhere beyond us. He's usually relatively composed, but this seems to be unraveling him.
I wrap my legs around Rowan's waist, changing the angle slightly, and he lets out a low growling hiss. "You feel… fucking amazing," he murmurs against my neck, his lips finding one of the silver marks there. "Like you were made just for us."