37. To Embrace Being An Omega #4
He makes a sound like I've hit him, then redoubles his efforts.
One hand finds my clit with the exact pressure he learned from his surveillance, the other grips the headboard for leverage as he drives into me with single-minded focus.
The dual stimulation combined with the emotional intensity pushes me rapidly toward climax.
"That's it," he encourages, watching my face with the same intensity he must have brought to those security feeds. "Show me. Show me what I've been missing."
The orgasm builds differently this time—deeper, starting in my core and radiating outward like ripples in a pond.
When it crests, I arch off the bed completely, only his weight keeping me grounded as pleasure whites out everything else.
I'm dimly aware of screaming his name, of my nails raking down his back, of the way he follows me over with a roar that probably wakes the whole house.
We collapse together, a tangle of sweaty limbs and harsh breathing.
He's careful even in exhaustion, rolling to avoid crushing my belly, but keeps me tight against his side.
I can feel the marks he left throbbing in time with my heartbeat—shoulders, neck, probably hips from his grip.
Instead of shame, I feel claimed. Protected.
Owned in the way that means belonging, not possession.
"Jesus," he mutters into my hair. "I didn't mean to—the watching thing?—"
"Was hot," I finish, turning to press a kiss to his jaw. "Knowing you wanted me that much. That you studied me like one of your security puzzles."
He huffs a laugh, but I can feel his relief in the way his arms tighten around me. "You're going to be the death of me."
"Just three more to go," I remind him, already feeling the heat build again beneath the satisfaction. "Think you'll survive?"
"Cole's going to knot you," he says instead of answering. "We can all smell it on him—the need to claim you completely. You ready for that?"
I think about Cole's careful control, the way he's held himself back even while the others gave in to their needs. Think about how it will feel to have that control finally snap, to be locked together in the most primal way possible.
"Yes," I whisper, and mean it completely. "I'm ready for all of it."
Mavi presses a kiss to my temple, and we lie quietly as my body prepares for the final round. Outside, I can hear footsteps—measured, patient, inevitable.
Cole's coming.
And with him, the completion of something that started the night he pulled me from a burning house.
Cole doesn't knock.
He simply opens the door and stands there, filling the frame with his presence in a way that makes my breath catch. Unlike the others who arrived in various states of undress or urgency, he's fully clothed, movements deliberate as he steps inside and closes the door with quiet finality.
His eyes— those storm-gray depths that first made me feel safe— take in the scene with careful assessment.
Me, marked and thoroughly claimed, sheets tangled and stained with the evidence of my heat.
Mavi, protective even in satiation, arm still curved around my waist.
"It's time," Cole says simply, already unbuttoning his shirt with steady hands.
No rushing, no frenzy, just methodical revelation of the body I've craved since this heat began.
Each button reveals more—the broad chest with its dusting of dark hair, the defined abs that speak of physical labor rather than gym vanity, the V of muscle that disappears beneath his jeans.
Mavi presses a kiss to my shoulder, right over one of the marks he left.
"Remember what I said," he murmurs, then extracts himself from our tangle with obvious reluctance.
As he passes Cole, they share a look—some silent communication between alphas that ends with Mavi gripping Cole's shoulder briefly.
"She's ready," Mavi says quietly. "We all are."
Then I'm alone with Cole, who continues his measured undressing as if we have all the time in the world.
My body disagrees, the final wave of heat crashing through me with intensity that steals my breath.
I've been claimed by three alphas, found release more times than I can count, but something deep in my omega instincts knows this is different. This is the one that matters most.
"Cole," I breathe, reaching for him, but he catches my hands gently.
"Let me look at you first." His eyes travel over me with reverent intensity, taking in every mark, every sign of claim. Instead of jealousy, I see satisfaction in his expression. "My pack took good care of you."
"Need you too," I whisper, squeezing his hands. "Need all of you, but especially—" I can't finish, can't articulate the bone-deep certainty that he's the missing piece.
"I know." He releases my hands to finish undressing, and when he's finally bare, I lose my breath entirely.
He's magnificent—all controlled power and leashed strength, his arousal evident in the hard length of him, the tension in his muscles.
"I've known since the first night. Felt it when I pulled you from that fire. "
He kneels at the foot of the bed, hands gentle but firm as he arranges me how he wants—legs spread, pillows supporting my back and belly. The position leaves me completely exposed, vulnerable in a way that should trigger old fears but only makes me wetter.
"First," he says, voice dropping to that register that makes my insides clench, "I'm going to taste you. Taste them on you. In you. Make sure you understand that this isn't about erasing their claim—it's about completing it."
His mouth descends without further warning, and the first swipe of his tongue makes me cry out.
He's not gentle, not hesitant—he devours me like a man starved, tongue delving deep to taste the mingled evidence of my previous claiming.
His hands grip my thighs, holding me open when I try to close them against the overwhelming sensation.
"Cole, oh god, Cole—" His name becomes a chant as he works me with lips and tongue and just the edge of teeth.
When he sucks my clit into his mouth while thrusting three fingers deep, I shatter instantly.
The orgasm rolls through me in waves, each pulse drawing groans of approval from him as he works me through it.
"Perfect," he says against my sensitive flesh, placing gentle kisses on my inner thighs. "So responsive. So ready." He crawls up my body with predatory grace, pausing to nuzzle my belly. "Still doing okay in there, little ones? Daddy's about to make it official."
The casual claim of fatherhood breaks something in my chest. Tears spring to my eyes—not from pain or fear but from the overwhelming rightness of this moment. When he reaches my face, he kisses away the salt tracks with infinite tenderness.
"Happy tears?" he checks, though his knowing smile says he already understands.
"The happiest," I confirm, pulling him down for a proper kiss. I can taste myself on his lips, along with hints of the others, and the combination makes me moan into his mouth. "Please, Cole. I need—I don't even know what I need, but?—"
"I do." He positions himself at my entrance, the broad head of him pressing just inside. "You need your alpha. Your pack. Your knot." Each word accompanied by a shallow thrust that makes me writhe. "You need to belong completely."
"Yes," I sob, trying to pull him deeper, but he maintains that maddening control. "All of that. All of you. Please."
He slides home in one smooth thrust, and the relief of finally having him inside me nearly makes me come again immediately.
He's big—maybe not quite as thick as Mavi but longer, hitting places that make me see stars.
When he's fully seated, he stops, holding himself still despite the way I clench around him.
"Look at me," he commands, and I force my eyes open to meet his. The intensity there steals my breath—possession and protection and love all tangled together. "This is forever, Willa. Once I knot you, once our bond completes, there's no going back. You'll be ours, and we'll be yours, for life."
"Good," I manage, rolling my hips to encourage movement. "That's what I want. What I choose. You, them, us—all of it."
Something shifts in his expression, the last wall crumbling. When he moves, it's with purpose—long, deep strokes that claim every inch of me. His hands frame my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks as he watches every expression that crosses my features.
"Mine," he says, but it's not possessive like Blake's claims used to be. It's a promise, a vow, a declaration of intent to protect and cherish. "My omega. My mate. Mother of my children."
"Yours," I agree, then gasp as I feel something change. He's swelling inside me, the base of his cock expanding in a way I've never experienced. "Cole, is that?—"
"My knot," he confirms, voice strained with the effort of control. "It's okay. Your body knows what to do. Just breathe through it."
The stretch is intense, borderline painful, but my omega instincts sing with recognition. This is what I've been craving, what my heat has been building toward. I force myself to relax, to accept the invasion that's really a joining, and am rewarded as the discomfort shifts to pleasure.
"That's it," Cole praises, still swelling, locking us together. "Such a good girl. Taking your alpha's knot so perfectly."
The praise combined with the sensation pushes me over again, but this orgasm is different.
It starts where we're joined and radiates outward like golden light, touching something deeper than physical pleasure.
I feel it—actually feel it—as our bond snaps into place.
Not just with Cole but with all of them, four distinct threads weaving together into something unbreakable.
Cole roars his own release, pulsing inside me as the knot locks us completely. We're one being now, joined in the most primal way possible.
"Do you feel it?" Cole asks against my neck, his body shuddering with aftershocks. "That sense of completion."
"All of you," I whisper in wonder. "I can feel all of you."
As if summoned by my words, the door opens.
Austin, River, and Mavi file in, drawn by the completion of something they're all part of.
Without discussion, they arrange themselves around us—Austin to my left, River to my right, Mavi by our feet.
Their hands find skin wherever they can touch, anchoring the bond with physical contact.
"Pack," River murmurs, and the word resonates through all of us.
"Family," Austin adds, pressing a kiss to my temple.
"Forever," Mavi confirms, hand warm on my ankle.
"Home," Cole completes, still locked inside me, surrounded by our chosen pack.
The heat finally, truly breaks, leaving me exhausted but profoundly complete.
I'm covered in sweat and marks, thoroughly claimed and knotted, carrying twins from this pack that chose me as much as I chose them. Six months ago, I arrived here broken and running. Now I'm whole, rooted, surrounded by men who see strength in survival and beauty in the broken places.
"Sleep," Cole murmurs as his knot finally begins to soften. "We'll clean up later. For now, just rest."
And surrounded by my pack— my family, my home, my everything —I do exactly that.
The last thought before sleep claims me is of Celeste, and how she knew. Somehow, she knew these men could offer what I needed most: not just safety, but belonging. Not just protection, but partnership.
Not just survival, but a life worth living.