Chapter 30 #2
“Shh. It’s okay. You’re safe. Remember what you said a few minutes ago? How much you wanted him here? How you couldn’t stop thinking about him?”
Mason shudders in her arms. His breathing is ragged, panicked, but Phoenix’s proximity seems to ground him. His grip on his own forearms loosens incrementally.
“That’s it,” she continues, stroking his hair. “Just breathe. Nobody’s going to make you do anything you don’t want. But you asked for him, honey. Remember? You asked me to bring him to you.”
Hurt lances through my chest at the sight of my omega needing someone else to soothe him into accepting my presence. But I try my best to push it down.
Phoenix meets my gaze over Mason’s shoulder. Her amber eyes hold mine with focused intensity.
Then she winks.
“Come on, honey,” she murmurs, guiding Mason forward. “Let him hold you. Just like you wanted. Just like you’ve been asking for.”
Mason allows himself to be repositioned. Still trembling. Still uncertain. But when his body settles against my chest again, something in him seems to exhale. Like a held breath finally releasing after years of waiting.
My lips find his forehead first.
Then his temple. The hinge of his jaw. The curve of his throat, where his pulse hammers visibly beneath the skin. Each kiss deliberate. Reverent. Not driven by heat-lust but by something older and deeper—the slow, devastating process of reclaiming something sacred that was lost.
Mason starts to shiver again.
Phoenix’s hand appears, rubbing gentle circles across his back. Her touch a steady counterpoint to the tremors rolling through him.
My mouth finds the claiming bite.
The sound Mason makes is devastating, a groan that’s half arousal, half overwhelming emotion. His body arches toward me involuntarily before he catches himself, pulling away with a gasp.
He turns toward Phoenix.
Not away from me exactly, but toward her. Seeking something. Needing something that I can’t give him in this moment, some anchor outside the intensity of our bond.
“Go back to Judah,” Phoenix urges softly. “He’s right here. You need—“
Mason kisses her.
The movement is sudden, desperate. His hands cup her face as his mouth claims hers with a hunger that makes my breath catch. Phoenix’s eyes fly wide, full of surprise and confusion, before flickering to meet mine over Mason’s shoulder.
I read her alarm and a genuine desire not to be made to push Mason away.
Watching them makes the knot in my chest unfurl.
So I give her a wink of my own.
Phoenix’s eyes widen for a flashing second before Mason’s insistence demands her complete attention.
I lean away, resting back on my spread palms. Still close enough to be within reach, but telegraphing that I’m willing to give them the space they need.
Watching this should probably bother me. But it really, really doesn’t.
There should be jealousy. Some possessive alpha instinct should be screaming at me to tear them apart, to reclaim what’s mine.
But there’s none of that.
My omega, kissing this fierce, beautiful woman who protected him when I couldn’t just feels right.
Aside from the hot lick of arousal burning my gut, I mostly just feel gratitude.
And a bone-deep relief that Mason hasn’t actually spent all of this time entirely alone, which is what I always really feared.
And if he isn’t ready for me to touch him yet, that doesn’t mean he won’t let me be a part of this.
For now, I’ll take what I can get.
I lean closer, letting my breath ghost across Phoenix’s ear.
“He likes to be on bottom,” I murmur, low enough that only she can hear. “Take his pants off.”
Phoenix pulls back from Mason’s kiss, lips swollen and cheeks flushed. Her amber eyes find mine, questioning.
“You sure?”
I nod once.
She bites her lip, hesitating. Her gaze flickers between Mason’s face—dazed with heat and want—and mine. Her fingers toy with the waistband of Mason’s sweatpants, not quite committed.
Then Mason whimpers.
The sound is raw, needy, pulled from somewhere primal. His hips roll forward involuntarily, seeking friction that isn’t there. His hands clutch at Phoenix’s shoulders like she’s the only thing keeping him from flying apart.
That sound decides her.
Phoenix’s hands move with purpose now. She tugs at the elastic waistband, easing the fabric down over Mason’s hips while I shift position to help. The sweatpants slide free, pooling at his ankles before being kicked away entirely. He’s bare beneath, flushed and hard and trembling.
Beautiful.
Phoenix guides Mason onto his back. He goes willingly, gray eyes glazed, hands reaching for her with desperate need. She settles over him, straddling his hips, and I watch as she leans down to capture his mouth again.
The angle gives me a perfect view. Her copper hair spilling across his chest. His hands sliding beneath her oversized sweater. The way his back arches when she grinds down against him.
My cock throbs against the confines of my jeans, aching for attention I refuse to give it. Not yet. This isn’t about me.
“Slowly,” I instruct, voice rougher than I intend. “Make him wait for it.”
Phoenix shoots me a look over her shoulder that says I know what I’m doing, but she complies. Her movements become deliberate, teasing. She rocks against Mason in a lazy rhythm that makes him groan with frustration.
“Please.” Mason’s voice is wrecked. “Phoenix, please, I need—”
“Shh.” She silences him with a kiss, swallowing his pleas. Her hand slides between their bodies, wrapping around him, and Mason’s whole body jerks like he’s been electrified.
I shift closer, positioning myself near Mason’s head. My hand finds his hair, threading through those damp curls, anchoring him. His eyes flutter open, finding mine, and the raw vulnerability in his gaze makes my chest ache.
“I’ve got you,” I promise. “Just let go. Let her take care of you.”
Mason’s hand finds my wrist, gripping hard enough to bruise. I don’t pull away. Just hold steady, a fixed point while Phoenix works him higher.
She’s good at this. Every touch precisely calibrated, every movement designed to push him closer to the edge without letting him fall. I watch her read his body the way I used to—the hitch in his breathing, the flutter of his eyelids, the specific tension that means he’s close.
“Not yet,” she murmurs against his throat. “You don’t get to come until Judah says so.”
Mason whines. Actually whines, high and desperate, and the sound goes straight to my cock.
Phoenix meets my gaze again, eyebrow raised. Your call.
I let the moment stretch. Let Mason’s anticipation build. His grip on my wrist tightens, his hips stuttering up toward Phoenix’s hand despite his efforts to stay still.
“Now,” I finally say. “Come for us.”
Phoenix’s hand twists in exactly the right way.
Mason shatters.
His back bows off the bed, a cry tearing from his throat as the orgasm rips through him. His hand on my wrist goes vice-tight, nails digging crescents into my skin. I hold him through it, stroking his hair, murmuring nonsense against his temple while Phoenix works him through every aftershock.
When it’s over, Mason collapses boneless against the pillows. His breathing is ragged, his eyes closed, his whole body trembling with the aftermath. Phoenix eases off him carefully, settling on her side, one hand resting lightly on his chest.
I bend down and press a kiss to Mason’s forehead.
“Good,” I whisper against his skin. “So good.”
He makes a small, broken sound. His hand releases my wrist, fingers uncurling slowly, and I see the red marks his grip left behind. I don’t care. Would let him bruise me a thousand times if it meant getting to witness this.
Phoenix catches my eye over Mason’s prone form. Her expression is complicated—satisfaction mixed with something softer, something that looks almost like wonder.
I reach across Mason’s body and squeeze her hand once. Thank you.
She squeezes back.
Mason’s breathing has started to even out. The heat-fever has receded slightly, leaving him drained and pliant in the nest. This wave has passed, but there will be more. Hours yet before his heat truly breaks.
For now, though, this is enough.
I settle back against the headboard, letting Mason curl against my side while Phoenix drapes herself across his other half.
His hand finds mine in the tangle of blankets, fingers interlacing, and I feel the bond humming between us—steady and warm and alive in a way it hasn’t been for ten long years.
We’re going to be okay.
The thought surfaces without permission. I don’t know if it’s true yet. Don’t know what happens when the heat clears and Mason has to face everything in the cold light of day. Don’t know if he’ll still want me when the biological imperative fades.
But right now, in this moment, with his hand in mine and his body warm against my side—
Right now, I let myself believe it might be possible.