Epilogue
Lucien
“Don’t you think I’ve been terribly nice?” I ask.
Branson and I have taken time off work, and are at the cabin.
It’s the third day of my heat. I can hardly believe how much smoother my descent into full-blown heat has been this time around.
Branson was glued to my side for weeks as my heat approached, and at the first spike in my temperature, he drove me up to the cabin, stripped off my clothes, and bundled me into my nest.
He built an even better nest for me this time, with more fairy lights, more pillows, and a special down duvet specifically designed for nesting. I love it. It’s a soft, fluffy cloud that smells like lust, flannel, and muscle.
Mmm.
So good.
Yes. Being mated and going into heat is a completely different experience from what happened the last time.
This time, Branson held me as I burned, licking my mark and keeping me close day and night.
His hands have been on my body the entire time.
On my back, in my hair. It’s helped more than I can possibly say.
Branson’s presence is soothing to me always, and going into heat with him as my mate has meant that his cool, calm energy has flowed through the bond from him to me, taking the edge off the worst of the blaze.
I was a little anxious about going into heat again, but my anxiety has proved to be unfounded.
Branson said it’s perfectly normal to be nervous, given how extreme the experience was last time.
I remember the vigor of my first heat all too well.
The aching hole. The boiling blood. The scorched skin.
The emptiness inside me. God, the emptiness.
I remember it all vividly.
It’s been so different this time though.
I’ve been different this time.
Branson still hasn’t answered me. He’s a little exhausted, poor thing. We’ve been fucking like rabbits for days now, and it’s taken a toll on him. He probably didn’t hear me when I spoke, so I tap him gently on the shoulder to rouse him.
“Don’t you think I’ve been absolutely lovely this time? So unmoody and adorable?”
He gives me a strange smile, thin and lacking in teeth, and his eyes skid off mine. “Mm,” he agrees. “So unmoody.”
The bond discharges a quick flash of white, and Branson raises a sheepish shoulder as I jab him in the ribs.
“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” I laugh.
He bats my hand away, catching my wrist and pinning it down on the bed near my head.
“You have been lovely, baby,” he clarifies, leaning in to kiss me on the lips.
“So lovely. So sexy and warm and delicious…” He kisses me again, on my forehead, and on my cheek, and then on my neck.
The kiss on my neck drags out and seems to distract him.
“And God, you smell good.” He runs the tip of his nose over my scent gland and inhales deeply.
“You smell so good, Lucy.” A low, guttural groan shakes the room. “So good. So, so good.”
I gurgle helplessly as my alpha lathes flat, broad stripes on my mark with his tongue. The pleasure his touch delivers when he comes into contact with that part of my body is the same as it always is. Complete. Absolute. Mind-bending pleasure with no price to pay.
I love it.
I do.
It’s just that, right now, my temperature is rising. I’m simmering inside, and I’m only getting hotter. There’s a familiar wave surging, swelling, and gaining ground, singeing my toes and traveling steadily up my legs.
Branson understands what’s happening without a word from me. He moves quickly, soothing me with heavy hands on my chest as the wave builds. He holds me close, licking my mark to take my mind off the deep, empty ache between my legs.
Heat swims in my veins, burning hotter with each second that passes, until at last, I’m curled in on myself, writhing from it, unable to survive another second without having my mate inside me.
“Is it time?” I pant through tightly gritted teeth. “Am I ready for your knot, alpha? Please, please, say I’m ready.”
Branson parts my legs and looks down. Despite how overheated I already am, his glowing gaze blazes a trail down my body that makes my skin break into goosebumps.
My hole quivers hopefully. Hungrily.
He cages my head in his hands and covers my body with his. My knees fall open, his body and mine arranging themselves to fit together organically. Natural and easy. Something that’s happened so many times before it's instinctive more than intentional.
We know each other like this now. My body knows his, and his knows mine.
My mind knows him too. It knows him inside and out.
But most of all, my heart knows his. I know that he’s mine.
That he was meant for me, and I was meant for him.
I know it isn’t dumb luck that brought us together.
It wasn’t a storm, and it wasn’t because I’m the world’s biggest mess.
It was fate. It was meant to be. Our story was written in the stars long before we were.
Branson strokes a lock of hair out of my face and adjusts his hips so his raging erection lies stretched out next to mine.
He leans down and makes my heart race. Despite how many times he’s kissed me, it still happens every time.
My heart senses his presence and fights to get out of my chest and closer to him.
His lips brush against mine. A sweet kiss. A sweet kiss. Then one that flips a switch and scorches something deep inside me. In my core, an ember catches, flickering dimly before bursting into flame.
Branson slides into me slowly, letting me feel every thick inch of him as he rearranges my organs.
It’s heaven. Hot heaven. Hot burning heaven drenched in heat and quiet moments.
Heat and inside jokes. Heat and whispered conversations that last from sunset to sunrise.
Secrets he’s told me, and secrets I’ve told him.
The truest, deepest parts of ourselves laid bare.
“I love you,” he grinds out, his voice gravel. “I love you, my mate. My man. My omega.”
“I love you too,” I sob, raking my nails down his back as a wave of pleasure crashes into me.
He moves his hips rhythmically, rocking me through the ravages of my orgasm and bringing me gently back down to Earth.
He holds me in his arms and waits until the flames begin to lap at my marrow once more. “Are you ready, baby?” he asks.
Our eyes lock. Branson’s pupils blow out, dark pools expanding as I lose myself in them. Amber striations glow brightly, and in the distance, in the depths of him, tiny sparks gather and light up as the rest of our life flickers before us.
I want to tell him how beautiful what I see is, but I can’t speak. I can’t form words. I’m too full.
Of wonder.
Of awe.
Of love.
Of him.
I screw my eyes shut and jerk my head up and down, clinging to him as he folds my knees back onto my chest. I know what he’s doing, why he’s positioning me like this.
We’ve spoken about it at length, and it’s something we both want badly.
Still, the idea of being bred and the reality of it are two different things.
The reality of it is more intimate, more mystical and dreamy than I could ever have imagined. My thighs tremble as Branson opens my legs wider. My hips ache from the strain and my hole clenches around him. Inside me, the burning ember at my center burns hotter than before.
Branson takes my hips in his hands and raises them off the mattress, slotting his dick deeper inside me. Deeper than before. Deeper than ever. So deep that my eyes fly open in shock.
There’s another shift. A sting and a burn as the thick swollen head of his cock pierces my womb.
The pain of it is fleeting. Perfect, orgasmic, and necessary.
I scream into it. Thrash into it. Thrust my hips furiously into it.
I claw at Branson’s back, shrieking in pleasure as the seal that has always kept this part of my body protected is forced open.
Branson’s grip tightens, his fingers digging into my flesh as his jaw drops. His teeth snap and snarl, and his eyes look directly into my soul. The sound he makes is new. Strangled and raw. A gasp, a groan, and a victory cry rolled into one.
His breath shakes, his ribcage rising and falling erratically as he cants his hips and thrusts all the way in.
I struggle and tremble, opening myself deeper and harder than ever before to accommodate him.
There’s a pinch, an ache in my core, and a dizzying flood of relief as Branson’s crown glides through the opening of my womb.
His knot begins to form immediately, swelling almost violently as our bodies work together to make magic happen.
My ring stretches, pleasure pouring into me steadily until it’s almost too much. Until it’s more than a wave. It’s a mountain. A highland. A cliff. Wind whips around us, and a storm gathers force as Branson and I stand on the summit and look to our future.
Neither of us moves, not even to breathe, for as long as we can.
We hold on to each other, his fingers laced between mine, our lips locked together.
We hold on to the moment, experiencing it fully, appreciating the beauty of it, the mystery of life, and the splendor of love.
Our lungs scream for air, and our hearts beat for each other.
And still, we hold on. We hold on and hold on until our bodies, our nature, take over.
My hole starts to flutter, orgasmic pleasure rippling up my channel and blinding me. There’s a hot gush inside me, a flood, an eruption. A piping hot load that explodes like a hydrant, coating the walls of my womb and drenching me. Drowning me.
A gust of wind rushes through the window, blowing the curtains open.
A delicate white linen web floats in the air above me, suspended in time as a perfect moment drags on.
Outside, deep in the forest, an owl screeches.
Autumn leaves rustle, and old, dry branches crack.
Dusty wings unfurl, and a bird of prey takes flight, startled by my cry.
The sound I’m making is the first sound and the last. The start and the end of me. A distinctive cry that echoes through mountains and trees. It’s a sound I’ve never heard before, but one I recognize instantly.
A breeding orgasm.
It reverberates through me. Through Branson. Through the bond. Through our past and into our future.
The bond between us thrums joyfully, throwing up dazzling yellows and gold as a new life takes hold.
My mate looks down at me in wonder, eyes shining and wet in the corners.
I look at him the same way.
“Do you remember,” I say when I’m able, “that a long time ago, you told me you’d make me the happiest omega on the planet?
” Branson nods, and a tear rolls slowly down his cheek.
He knows what I’m going to say. He knows because he knows me, and he knows that what I’m saying is truer than true.
I lean up and kiss him, savoring the heady taste of wild honey and heat.
“Well.” I smile. “You’ve done it, alpha. You’ve made me the happiest man alive.”