46. Hailey
Chapter 46
Hailey
A n hour passes, maybe more. The house is quiet, save for the faint creak of floorboards above me—Jax or Stone moving somewhere unseen. The sound is distant, fading into the background, unimportant compared to the restlessness building in my body.
At first, it’s subtle—a faint warmth blooming low in my chest, like the lingering heat of a fire long after the flames have burned out. I shift on the couch, hoping the small movement will help. It doesn’t.
The warmth spreads, slow and insidious, seeping into my limbs like molten honey. My skin prickles, too sensitive, every brush of the couch against me like a whisper that leaves me trembling.
I shift again, curling my legs beneath me, trying to find some position—any position—that will ease the ache blooming in my belly. It pulses, rhythmic and deep, radiating outward as it coils tighter and tighter until my breath catches in my throat.
And then it hits me, sharp and undeniable: pre-heat.
The word drops into my mind like a stone into water, sending ripples of panic and shame through me. Another wave? So soon? My first instinct is to go to Finn, to climb the stairs and wake him, but the image of him asleep earlier stops me cold. He looked so exhausted, his body slack with the kind of sleep that comes only after days of strain. I can’t disturb him—not for this.
I gulp hard, my gaze flicking around the room.
I can deal with it. Just for now. Other omegas manage. Why can’t I?
I square my shoulders and sink back against the couch, closing my eyes as I focus on my breathing. In…out…steady. Stay calm.
It doesn’t help.
The warmth intensifies, spreading like wildfire beneath my skin. My palms grow damp, my heart pounding erratically, and every shallow breath feeds the heat instead of quelling it.
One particularly hard pulse hits, and with it comes a flash of memory—Stone’s low voice saying, “Good” and then the sensation of Jax’s fingers brushing my nape follows. The heat of his fingers. The gentleness of his touch against my scalp.
“Oh.” My thighs press together, the ache between them sharpening into something unbearable. I dig my nails into the couch, trying to ground myself, trying to think of anything else, but my body isn’t listening. It craves something I don’t want to admit.
For a few moments, I manage—pressing my thighs together, forcing myself to breathe. At one point, I even think I’m winning.
Wrong.
A particularly strong throb almost makes me whimper out loud, shattering my fragile control. My gaze drifts to the armchair where Jax had sat earlier, the blanket he’d used still draped over the edge. The sight of it sends a jolt through me, and before I can stop myself, I reach for it.
The moment my fingers crush the fabric to my nose, his scent overwhelms me.
Cedar. Warm and earthy, with a faint edge of something sharper. My stomach clenches as I realize what that sharper note is: his arousal. It clings to the blanket like it’s embedded in the fibers, wrapping around me the moment I inhale deeply .
A wave of heat crashes over me, so strong my core clenches hard on nothing. Comfort? Longing? Desire? I can’t tell anymore. All I know is that something inside me cracks open, the fire in my chest flaring out of control.
It’s too much. Too strong.
A whimper builds in my throat, muffled against the blanket. My fingers tighten in the fabric, clutching it like a lifeline as my body trembles.
The ache in my belly deepens like a knot pulling tighter and tighter with every passing second. I press my thighs together harder, but the friction is fleeting, useless. It only makes the need worse.
Everything feels magnified: the soft texture of the blanket against my fingertips, the faint hum of the TV in the background, the way my pulse pounds in my ears—it’s all too much and not enough at the same time.
My breath quickens as I fight for control, but my body screams for something I can’t give it.
The scent of Jax is everywhere now, wrapping around me like a cocoon, and I can’t stop the way my body reacts to it. My hips shift slightly, almost involuntarily, and the motion sends a rush of heat straight to the aching pulse between my legs.
I squeeze my eyes shut, biting down hard on my lip to stifle the soft moan threatening to spill out. The sting of my teeth grounds me, but only briefly. The heat surges again, drowning out everything else.
This isn’t helping.
But I can’t bring myself to let go of the blanket.
My fingers tighten in the fabric, desperate for relief, but every breath feeds the fire. Every shift of my hips stokes the flames.
I’m unraveling, piece by piece, the heat relentless as it curls through me like smoke. Shame presses against my chest, but it’s drowned out by the ache radiating from my core.
The thought of going to Finn crosses my mind again, but I shove it aside. He’s done so much already. I can’t keep leaning on him every time I fall apart.
But what else can I do?
Tears prick at my eyes, a mix of frustration and exhaustion. I press my face into the blanket again, desperate for comfort, but it only makes it worse. Jax’s scent surrounds me, rich and grounding, yet it fans the flames instead of smothering them.
My thighs clench helplessly, the ache sharpening into something unbearable.
For the first time in my life, I dip a hand beneath the band of my pants. When my fingers brush the damp fabric of my panties, right over the aching bud between my legs, a bolt of pleasure shoots through me so sharp it makes my vision blur.
I need to stop. I need to stop this.
But my body won’t listen.
I’m so lost in the haze that I don’t hear him approach.
A warm hand settles on my shoulder, and I shudder underneath it. Through lowered lashes, I see Finn crouch beside me. My body sways toward him without permission, the pre-heat flaring even hotter, and before I can stop myself, I whisper, “Finn…”
But the muscles under my jaw are far too hard. The scent that fills my lungs is cedar and fresh air, not Finn’s softer sage.
My eyes snap open, and I tilt my head back to find Jax looking down at me, his jaw clenched and working.
“Jax,” I breathe out. But my voice trembles even as I try to ease off him.
His hands stay around me, preventing me from running away from this. There’s something in his gaze—something heavy—even as I see his jaw clench so hard I’m sure he’ll destroy all his teeth.
“I should get Finn.” The rumble that’s his voice vibrates through his chest and into me.
A whimper escapes before I can stop it. He’s right—I know he’s right. Finn should be here. But when Jax tries to detangle himself from me, my instincts surge into overdrive. My fingers dig into his forearm, desperate and trembling. The thought of him leaving, even just to go upstairs, makes something primal inside me want to cry out. I feel too raw, too exposed—like my skin’s been peeled back, leaving every nerve ending exposed to the air.
His eyes darken at my grip, nostrils flaring as he catches the distress in my scent. “Hailey…”
My fingers betray me before my voice does, clutching at his sleeve with an urgency that surprises us both. I should be afraid—this is an alpha, after all. But beneath the cedar scent that’s been driving me to distraction all morning is something else: a steady, reliable presence that reminds me of how he carefully fixed my hair, how he’s kept his distance, how he's watched over me without demanding anything in return.
“Please,” I whisper, the word barely audible. My own response startles me; this morning I could barely meet his eyes, and now I’m clinging to him like he’s oxygen. I know I should let go. Know this isn’t fair to any of us. But something that feels more like my true self than the Academy’s conditioning is screaming for the safety of an alpha’s presence. Not just any alpha— this alpha. Jax. And right now, he’s the only thing keeping me from flying apart at the seams.
His expression shifts. Jax’s jaw tightens further, and his hand slides from my shoulder to my chest, pushing me tighter against him. His chest is solid, warm, and the strength in his grip makes something inside me unravel.
“You trust me?” he asks, voice rough, but there’s a softness underneath, a quiet vulnerability.
I nod against him, my fingers twisting in his shirt. “Yes.”
The word hangs between us, and I feel the tension in him ease ever so slightly.
“You’re safe.” His voice drops into something lower, something that settles deep in my chest. “I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.”
The promise in his tone wraps around me like a shield, and I let myself sink into him, my body trembling as another wave of pre-heat crashes over me .
Jax shifts, pulling me fully into his lap. “You’re burning up,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. His hand moves to my waist, anchoring me, and I can feel the tension in his grip—like he’s holding himself back, careful not to push too far.
“I can’t… I can’t stop it,” I whisper. My voice breaks under my admission, because it’s true. I can’t stop it. Forcing it go to away does nothing.
“I know,” he says. “Just breathe for me.”
His voice is a low, steady command that cuts through the fog in my mind. I take a shaky breath, my body leaning into the strength of him, and he hums softly, like he’s pleased.
“That’s it,” he says. “Good girl.”
The words send a shiver through me, and I feel his grip on my waist tighten. His scent is everywhere now, cedar and warmth, and it soothes me even as it stokes the fire inside me.
“Do you want me to help you?” He whispers it so low, his voice is like thin lace that rolls over my skin.
I nod, cheeks burning, and I feel his chest rumble with a low sound—something that’s not quite a growl but close.
“Say it,” he says.
A shiver goes through me. “Yes.” I shudder. “Please…help me.”
He exhales slowly, his breath warm against my temple. “I need you to tell me if it’s too much. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” I say again, clutching at his arm.
“Good.”
Jax’s hand moves, sliding down from my waist to my thigh.
Something aligns inside me as I lean against him. For the first time, weakened by the heat coursing through me, I can’t keep up the walls I’ve been hiding behind. That alone makes alarm bells ring in my mind. They ring, but as Jax’s heavy hand remains still on my thigh, the alarm slowly dies.
This isn’t Finn, but there’s a similar safety in Jax’s steady presence, in the careful way he holds me despite his obvious desire. The realization doesn’t erase my hesitation, but it softens its edges, gives me room to surrender to the instincts I’ve been fighting since I arrived here. But only if I want to.
Jax’s touch is firm, his palm warm against my skin as he pulls my legs apart slightly. The movement sends a fresh wave of heat through me, and I bite down on my lip, trying to stifle the soft whimper that threatens to escape.
“Don’t hold back,” he says. “I want to hear you.”
The words make my cheeks burn. I’ve never heard Jax talk like this. He’s always been so carefully in control. Hearing him say these words…it feels like he’s being vulnerable with me, too. Showing me a part of himself that he’s been keeping hidden.
My breath hitches as his hand presses against the inside of my thigh. He doesn’t rush, his touch steady and sure, and the ache between my legs sharpens until I feel like I might break.
“Jax…” I whisper, voice trembling.
“Yes, little dove,” he whispers against my hair. His hand moves higher, his fingers brushing against the heat of me through the thin fabric of my pants.
The sensation is sharp, electric, and I gasp, my hips shifting instinctively toward his hand.
“Easy,” he murmurs, his other arm tightening around me, holding me in place. “Let me take care of you.”
The words, the strength in his grip, the sheer command in his voice—it all hits me at once, and I feel myself relax against him, my body trembling as I give in to the pull of him.
“Sweet little dove,” he says softly, and the praise sends a rush of heat through me that has nothing to do with the pre-heat.
His fingers press against me again, firmer this time, and I can’t stop the small, broken moan that slips past my lips. My body arches against him, seeking more, instinct taking over as the fire inside me flares hotter. I feel him tense beneath me, his fingers faltering for just a fraction of a second as his breath hitches.
The realization that he’s not unaffected—that I’m having just as much of an effect on him as he is on me—sends a thrill through me. It’s heady and overwhelming, the knowledge that this powerful alpha, so controlled and steady, is feeling the weight of this moment too.
“Hailey,” he murmurs, his voice rough, almost hoarse.
His hand stills against me, and I whimper at the loss of friction, my body trembling as I fight the urge to beg him not to stop. The shaky uneven exhalation he releases brushes against my hair, and his grip on my waist tightens.
“Look at me.” His voice remains low, commanding but gentle, like he’s pulling me back from the edge of something dangerous.
I tilt my head back, my breath catching as I feel the strength of his arms around me, holding me steady. He shifts beneath me, his hands sliding to my hips, and before I can process what’s happening, he turns me in his lap.
The motion is quick, and suddenly I’m straddling him, my knees on either side of his thighs, my hands clutching at his shoulders to steady myself. The shift brings us closer, impossibly close. So close I can feel the heat of him through the thin barrier of my clothes.
As Jax’s hands settle on my hips again, I feel the strength in those fingers, the restraint in the way he holds me, like he’s afraid I might break.
“Better,” he rumbles. A low, dark sound that sends a shiver through me.
I don’t know if he means the position or something else, but I can’t bring myself to ask. My heart is racing, my breaths coming in shallow, uneven pants as I meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, molten, and I feel like they’re stripping me bare, seeing every inch of me, every thought, every need.
“Jax, I…” I whisper, my voice trembling.
His forehead presses to mine, the warmth of his skin grounding me. The next sensation is the feel of his breaths against my lips. Each exhalation seems to tickle my skin, to awaken little nerves all across the surface that I didn’t know existed.
“Breathe,” he says softly, voice now so low it’s almost a growl.
I try, but it feels impossible with the way his scent is flooding my senses, stronger now, intoxicating and overwhelming. Such an intense concoction of cedar, my body aches to close the distance between us.
His fingers flex on my hips, and I feel him shift slightly beneath me, his chest rising and falling in time with my own. My gaze falls to his lips.
“Jax…” My voice is barely a whisper, filled with so much need I almost don’t recognize it.
I swear I feel the moment he gives in to whatever primal pull is between us. His fingers slip beneath the waistband of my pants, pushing aside the thin barrier of my panties until he’s touching me, skin to skin. A strangled sound escapes me, my hips bucking instinctively, seeking more.
“Easy,” he murmurs, his voice dark, controlled, but there’s something raw underneath it. “Let me take care of you.”
His fingers move like they already know me, circling the sensitive bud between my thighs, and I nearly sob at the relief it brings—not just physical, but emotional too. For days I’ve been adrift anchored only by Finn. Now Jax’s touch offers a second mooring point, another safe harbor. The realization that I can turn to him too sends a wave of something like gratitude washing through me alongside the pleasure. The tension that’s been coiling tighter and tighter within me threatens to snap, and I clutch at his shoulders, forcing myself to breathe.
Jax’s other arm tightens around my waist, holding me close as he strokes me, his breath still mingling with mine, his lips so close I can feel their heat. Every movement sends a spark through my veins, my body surrendering completely to his touch.
This doesn’t feel like being used or controlled. This feels like connection, like two pieces of something larger finding their fit .
“You’re so sensitive,” he murmurs, his voice rough, edged with something dangerous. His nose brushes against mine, and for a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. My heart pounds against my ribs, my body trembling against him, desperate for that final push over the edge.
When his fingers dip lower, pressing into my slick entrance, I gasp, my forehead pressing harder against his. The sensation is overwhelming, each stroke pushing me closer to the precipice, my body strung so tight I feel like I might shatter.
“Jax—” I plead, and I feel him shudder against me.
His lips brush mine, the barest ghost of a touch, and it sends me spiraling. The combination of his fingers, his scent, his presence—it’s too much, and I shatter around him, my body wracked with pleasure so intense it steals my breath. My thighs clamp around his hand, my entire being shaking as waves of bliss crash through me.
Jax groans, his forehead still pressed to mine, his breath ragged. He doesn’t move away, doesn’t let me go. Instead, he stays with me, grounding me through the aftershocks, his touch gentle as he slowly withdraws his fingers.
I’m still trembling when he lifts his hand, his fingers glistening with my release. His darkened gaze locks onto mine, and without breaking eye contact, he slips them between his lips, his tongue sweeping over them in a slow, deliberate motion.
A choked noise escapes me, something between embarrassment and arousal, and he hums in satisfaction, his free hand cupping my jaw.
“I should take you to the nest,” he whispers.
And the way he says it makes me realize—this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.