Chapter 15
Rowan
I wake up in a puddle . At first, I think I’ve knocked over a glass of water in my sleep, until the pain hits. It’s like a thousand tiny wires pulling me from the inside out. My stomach clenches so hard I curl in on myself with a gasp. Everything aches, my thighs, my back, the deep place in my belly that feels molten and raw. I’m soaked with sweat, but it’s not just sweat.
Oh god. My sheets are damp with slick. It’s everywhere. Between my legs, on my inner thighs, soaking through the silky sleep shorts I changed into the night before. I whimper before I can stop myself, a small, broken sound that escapes between clenched teeth.
The need is unbearable. It throbs through me like a second heartbeat, sharp and constant, pressing into every nerve like fire. My hands tremble as I try to push myself upright, but the motion only makes it worse. My nipples brush against the fabric of my shirt and I swear I see stars. What is happening to me?
My throat tightens, and panic rises. I don’t understand. This isn’t normal. This isn’t what Betas go through.
My body feels like it’s begging for something it was never supposed to need.
I clutch the blanket to my chest and let out another soft whine, unable to stop it. It feels like my skin is too tight, like I’m going to crawl out of myself if this keeps going.
My mind reels through yesterday, Massimo’s office, the way I’d reacted to his scent, to Cole’s, to that gorgeous stranger who’d walked me home. Sébastien.
Sébastien. Is he still here? I can’t think past the pain. I can’t breathe through the need. All I can do is lie there, soaked and burning, trying not to cry from how much it hurts.
A quiet creak echoes from the hallway floor. I freeze, breath shallow. Then another step. Softer this time. Hesitant. I know it’s him before I even see him.
“Sébastien?” My voice is hoarse, barely a whisper, cracking around the edges like glass under pressure.
He must hear it, my whimper, my pain, because the door opens slowly, and there he is. His expression is tense the moment he sees me curled up on the bed, sweat-slicked and shaking. He doesn’t speak at first. He stands there, framed by the soft light spilling from the hallway, his gray eyes darkening with something primal.
His nostrils flare. And I watch his throat work as he swallows hard. He’s the most Alpha, Omega I’ve ever met. The scent in the room must be overwhelming, my scent. Slick and heat and desperation, rolling off me in waves. I want to hide, to disappear into the mattress and never come out again.
But his gaze isn’t cruel. It’s controlled. Barely. He steps inside; the door closes behind him with a soft click. The air thickens.
“I heard you,” he says gently, voice laced with something rougher than before. “You’re in pain.”
I nod, tears pricking my lashes. “I don’t know what’s happening. I—I can’t stop it. I can’t think—”
Sébastien breathes deeply, once, twice, his hands curling into fists at his sides like he’s trying to anchor himself.
“I know,” he murmurs. “Rowan, I know.”
Another cramp tears through me, worse than before, and I curl tighter into myself with a soft cry. It feels like my body is splitting apart. Fire crawls under my skin, twisting deeper with every breath.
I bite down on a sob, my whole body clenching as another wave of pain crashes through me. My hips twitch, seeking friction, relief, something, but nothing helps. I can’t take this. I can’t breathe .
“Sébastien,” I whisper, voice wrecked. “Please.”
His head lifts slowly, eyes locked on mine. There’s agony in his expression. Agony and restraint.
“I need—” I gasp, curling forward, chest heaving. “I don’t know what this is, but I need you to make it stop. Please. I need you.”
His breath catches audibly. The scent of wild honey and rain thickens in the room.
“Rowan,” he says hoarsely. “Don’t say that unless you mean it.”
I nod, frantically now, tears sliding down my cheeks. “I do. I don’t care what’s happening, I just need you.”
He doesn’t move at first. He just looks at me, like he’s memorizing the moment, like something inside him is unraveling too. Then his hand reaches up, so gently it nearly breaks me, and cups my cheek.
The moment he touches me, I gasp. And then we’re kissing. It’s not soft. It’s not slow. Its heat and hunger and desperation rolled into one, his lips catching mine like he’s starved for it. I open for him with a broken little moan, my fingers fisting in his shirt as I pull him closer, closer, closer. His body covers mine, heavy and warm, but he’s careful still holding back, still fighting instinct. Our mouths break apart for breath, and he leans his forehead against mine.
“Are you sure?” he whispers, voice thick, ragged. “Tell me now, Rowan. Tell me if I should stop.”
I don’t hesitate. “Yes,” I breathe, the word trembling on my tongue but burning with truth. “I want you. I need you.”
His eyes close, like the weight of my answer slams into him. And then he exhales, slow and shaky, like he’s just given himself permission to fall.