Chapter 32 Oakley
thirty-two
Oakley
I'm half-asleep on the couch when I hear her key in the lock.
It's almost two in the morning. Dorian crashed an hour ago after pacing the living room like a caged animal, muttering about "boundaries" and "trust" and "that fucking Beta.
" Corvus never even came downstairs—just sent a single text to the group chat: She made her choice. Let her deal with the consequences.
But I stayed up. Because something felt off about the whole thing. The way she left. The tension in her shoulders. The desperate edge to her voice when she said she could "handle herself."
I know that tone. I've used it myself plenty of times.
It's the sound of someone trying to prove something they're not sure they believe.
The door opens quietly. She's trying not to wake anyone. I stay still, watching through half-closed eyes as she slips inside.
And immediately, I smell it.
Beta. Male. All over her.
And something else. Something that makes my Alpha instincts roar to life.
Sex.
She fucked him.
My chest tightens, but I force myself to stay calm. To breathe through the immediate surge of possessive rage that wants me to storm upstairs and wake Dorian, to let Corvus tear the theater building apart looking for that Beta.
But then I catch the rest of her scent.
Frustration. Shame. And underneath it all—desperation tinged with tears.
This didn't go how she wanted.
I sit up slowly, making just enough noise that she knows I'm awake. She freezes in the doorway, backlit by the porch light, looking like a deer caught in headlights.
"Oakley," she breathes. "I thought you'd be asleep."
"Couldn't." I keep my voice neutral. Non-threatening. "Wanted to make sure you got home safe."
She winces. "I'm fine."
"Are you?"
The question hangs there. She could lie. Could brush past me and head upstairs, shower away the evidence before Dorian or Corvus wake up and smell what I'm smelling.
Instead, her face crumples.
"No," she whispers. "I'm really not."
I'm off the couch in seconds, closing the distance between us. She's shaking—I can see it now that I'm closer. Trembling like she's cold even though it's not even that chilly outside.
"Come here." I pull her into my arms, and she comes willingly, face buried against my chest.
She smells like him. Like Beta male and sweat and sex. But underneath it all, she still smells like ours. Like pack. Like mate.
And she smells like she's been crying.
"What happened?" I keep my voice soft. Careful.
"I fucked up." Her voice is muffled against my shirt. "I fucked up so bad, Oakley."
"Did he hurt you?" The Alpha in me needs to know. Needs to assess threat level before I can think about anything else.
"No." She pulls back enough to look at me, and her eyes are red-rimmed. Exhausted. "He didn't hurt me. I hurt him. And I hurt myself. And I just—I need to shower. I need to get his scent off me before Dorian or Corvus wake up and—"
"Hey." I cup her face, thumbs brushing away the tears. "Breathe. They're both out cold. Dorian took melatonin after the first hour of pacing. Corvus sleeps like the dead anyway."
"You stayed up." It's not a question.
"Someone had to." I offer a small smile. "Come on. Let's get you upstairs before your scent wakes them."
I guide her up the stairs, hand on the small of her back. She's still trembling. Still radiating that complicated mix of shame and frustration that makes my chest ache.
I know that feeling. Know it intimately.
Being fucked when your body won't cooperate. When you're trying to feel something—anything—and it just won't come. When someone's doing everything right and you can't respond the way you're supposed to.
Yeah. I know that feeling real fucking well.
We make it to her room without waking the others. I close the door quietly behind us.
"Shower," she says immediately, moving toward her bathroom. "I need to—"
"Vespera." I catch her wrist gently. "Talk to me first. What happened?"
She closes her eyes. "We were running lines. Stanley and Blanche. It got... intense. And I thought—I wanted to prove that I could still want someone who isn't part of the pack. That the bonds don't control everything."
"And?"
"And my body wouldn't cooperate." Her voice breaks. "He did everything right, Oakley. Everything. But I couldn't—I didn't—"
"You couldn't come."
She nods miserably. "He came. Inside me. And I just... nothing. I tried so hard but my body wouldn't let me. Like there's this wall between me and pleasure and only you three can break through it."
Fuck.
I pull her close again, and she melts into me. "That's not your fault."
"Isn't it?" She laughs bitterly. "I used him. I knew it probably wouldn't work but I tried anyway. And now he's hurt and I'm fucked up and I smell like him and—"
"Breathe." I stroke her hair. "Just breathe for a second."
She does, shuddering against me.
"I know what it's like," I say quietly. "To have your body chase something it can't reach. When you're desperate and nothing works no matter how hard you try."
She pulls back to look at me. "What?"
"Rut." I meet her eyes. "When Dorian and I would go into rut together.
He'd knot me constantly—trying to help, trying to take the edge off.
And it would feel good, I'd come, but it was never enough.
Never quite hit that deep satisfaction. Like scratching an itch that just gets worse the more you scratch it. "
"Oakley—"
"And when he went into rut for you?" I let out a bitter laugh.
"Before you were here? He'd knot me over and over until I was raw.
Sore. Sometimes to the point of actual pain.
And it still wouldn't be enough because his body knew what—who—it actually needed.
We'd fuck for hours and I'd feel this...
emptiness after. Like going through all the right motions but never getting the relief that's supposed to come with it. "
Her eyes widen. "God, I didn't know. I'm so sorry."
"Don't be. It's funny now," I admit. "In a fucked up way. We joke about it sometimes. But at the time? It sucked. Feeling like something's wrong with you because your body won't accept what should work. Because you need something specific and nothing else will do."
She stares at me. "I didn't know."
"Not something I advertise." I brush her hair back. "But I'm telling you now so you know: you're not broken. Your body's just bonded. It made a choice even if your mind didn't get a vote."
"It's not fair."
"No. It's not." I kiss her forehead. "But it's also not your fault. And it's not something to be ashamed of."
"Ben's hurt."
"Ben will heal." I keep my voice gentle even though the Alpha in me wants to growl at the mention of his name. "He's an adult. He made his choice too. But right now? Right now we need to get his scent off you before Dorian wakes up and loses his mind."
She nods shakily. "Shower."
"Shower," I agree. "Come on."
I guide her into the bathroom, turn on the water. Steam starts filling the space immediately.
"Strip," I say, keeping my tone matter-of-fact. Not sexual. Not yet.
She hesitates.
"I've seen you naked, little star. This isn't about that. This is about getting you clean before pack dynamics become a nightmare."
She nods and starts peeling off her clothes. Tank top. Sports bra. Leggings.
The Beta's scent gets stronger as each layer comes off. And yeah—there's the evidence. The slickness between her thighs that isn't hers. The smell of his come.
My Alpha roars. Wants to drag her into the shower and fuck her until all traces of him are gone. Until she's marked so thoroughly that no one could mistake who she belongs to.
But I breathe through it. Force myself to stay calm.
She needs comfort right now. Not possessive Alpha bullshit.
"Get in," I say softly.
She steps under the spray, and I watch the water start washing away the evidence. But it's not enough—I can still smell him on her skin. In her hair.
"I'm coming in," I tell her.
She doesn't protest. Just watches as I strip quickly and join her under the hot water.
"Turn around."
She does, and I grab her shampoo. Work it through her hair carefully, thoroughly. She makes a small sound—relief or pleasure, I'm not sure.
"I used to do this," I say quietly. "After Dorian would... after. I'd shower for hours. Trying to wash away the feeling of being used. Of not being enough."
"You are enough," she says fiercely, turning to look at me. "You're so much more than enough, Oakley."
"So are you." I rinse the shampoo out, gentle. "Your body's not broken. It's just bonded. There's a difference."
"Doesn't feel like it."
"I know." I condition her hair next, working through tangles with patient fingers. "But you are enough. For us. For pack. Ben just... he's not pack. Your body knows the difference even when you wish it didn't."
She leans back against me as I rinse the conditioner out. "I need to end things with him. For good. It's not fair to either of us."
"Probably," I agree. "But that's tomorrow's problem. Tonight's problem is making sure you don't smell like him when the others wake up."
I grab the body wash—Corvus's, because it's the strongest. Cedar and dark chocolate.
"This might feel weird," I warn.
"Weirder than you washing my hair?"
"Yeah." I lather my hands. "I need to touch you. Everywhere. Replace his scent with ours. It's the only way to make sure there's no trace left."
She's quiet for a moment. Then: "Okay."
I start at her shoulders. Working the lather across her collarbones, down her arms. Clinical. Methodical.
But when I reach her breasts, she inhales sharply.
"Oakley—"
"I know." My voice is rougher now. "I'm trying to be good. Trying to just clean you. But fuck, Vespera. You smell like him and my Alpha wants to mark you. Wants to make sure everyone knows you're ours."
"Then do it." She turns to face me, water streaming between us. "Please. I need—I need to feel something. Need to know that my body can still respond to something."