3. Rowan
3
ROWAN
T he faint sound of footsteps reaches me. At first, I think it’s just the storm playing tricks. Maybe it’s the wind rattling through cracks in the lighthouse. But no. It sounds like footsteps.
Someone’s here.
I stop mid-step, halfway down the spiral staircase, dust rag in one hand. No one comes here. Ever.
The storm alone should’ve kept anyone away, and even on a clear day, I’m the last person anyone wants to bother. So why?—
Then it hits me.
My chest tightens, instincts roaring to life in a way I haven’t felt in years. The scent is impossible to miss—sweet, floral, and fucking potent. Heat. An Omega’s heat.
The smell wraps around me, sharp and thick, crawling down my throat like it owns me.
I grip the railing hard enough to creak. No. No way. This isn’t happening.
Whoever she is, she needs to get the hell out of here. Now.
I take a step back, considering retreating to the top of the lighthouse until she realizes she’s not welcome and leaves. But my Alpha instincts are screaming at me to go down there, to see her, to?—
I grind my teeth, pushing the thought away. Goddamn instincts.
The stairs groan as I descend, slowly and deliberately. The scent grows stronger with every step. By the time I reach the bottom, it’s all I can fucking think about. It clings to the air, mingling with the faint tang of rain and seawater.
And there she is.
She’s standing in the middle of the room like some sort of dream—or nightmare. Her wet hair is plastered to her face, the chestnut strands darkened to a near-black sheen.
But it’s her dress that’s making me feel like I’ve swallowed my tongue. Jesus Christ. It’s white, and the rain’s made it almost transparent. It’s clinging to her curves like a second skin.
My throat dries. My cock twitches.
I curse under my breath and clear my throat. “You shouldn’t be here.”
She spins around, eyes wide and glowing like fucking amber lanterns. She looks wrecked. Wet, shivering—no, not shivering. That’s not rain cold.
“Please.” Her voice breaks, barely steady as she drags a hand through her hair. “I need help.”
I step back. “You need to leave.”
Her face crumples and she takes a shaky step forward, legs crossing like she’s trying to hold herself together. “I can’t.”
She folds in half, hands clutching her knees as a whimper escapes her. Fuck. Every muscle in my body locks up. My instincts are screaming at me to go to her, to hold her, to?—
No.
I dig my nails into my palm, forcing myself to stay put. “What’s your name?”
“Grace,” she whispers, and her voice alone sends a jolt through me. She’s pressing her thighs together, and the air is so thick with her arousal that I can almost taste it. My jaw clenches.
“Why are you here, Grace?” My voice comes out rougher than I intended, and she flinches.
“The storm,” she says, her words tumbling over each other. “My car—it ran out of gas. I couldn’t—” She swallows hard. “I thought I could make it, but?—”
I shake my head, cutting her off. “You should’ve stayed in the car.”
“I couldn’t,” she says, voice breaking again. “I—I’m in heat.”
No shit. Every goddamn inch of me knows that.
“I wasn’t safe out there,” she whispers.
“You’re not safe here either, Grace.”
She sways, knees buckling slightly, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from moving toward her. I don’t even know this woman. I shouldn’t care.
But the sight of her, so small and desperate—it’s digging under my skin, breaking through years of carefully built walls.
She notices me staring, her face flushing deeper. “I just—I thought?—”
She doesn’t finish, her words dissolving into a soft sound that makes my stomach twist.
I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair. “You’re not staying here.”
“Please,” she whispers, eyes locking on mine. “Just for a bit. I’ll leave as soon as?—”
Her legs give out, and she collapses onto her knees.
“Fuck,” I grunt, crossing the room in two strides before I can stop myself.
I hover over her, my hands balled into fists at my sides. I shouldn’t touch her. I can’t touch her. Not when every part of me is screaming to do so much more.
“You’re gonna pass out if you don’t stop pushing yourself.” It comes out sounding harsh, but she just looks up at me, her eyes glazed with a mix of pain and need.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” she murmurs, her head tilting forward.
“Shit.” I rake a hand over my face, trying to block out her scent. It’s impossible. It’s everywhere. “You need to take a shower. Get rid of the chill.” And maybe the smell.
Her gaze flickers, hesitant, before she nods. “Okay.”
I gesture toward the stairs. “Bathroom’s upstairs. First door on the left.”
She doesn’t move. She just stares at me like she’s trying to figure out if I’m real.
“Now!” I snap, sharper than I mean to.
She flinches but forces herself to stand, her movements shaky and slow.
I follow her to the stairs, keeping my distance even though every muscle in my body is urging me to get closer.
She starts climbing, one step at a time, her hand gripping the railing like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.
The dress clings to her legs as she moves, the fabric damp and translucent. I force myself to look away.
“Shower’s through the door,” I say, stopping at the base of the stairs.
She glances back at me, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted slightly. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” I mumble, turning away before I do something fucking stupid.
The sound of the water running in the bathroom grates against my nerves. My head’s a fucking mess. This is bad. This is so bad.
I drag a hand through my hair, pacing like a damn caged animal. Since Lena… I haven’t been with anyone. No one but my own fucking hand.
And now, out of nowhere, this walks into my sanctuary. A goddamn Omega. Her scent still lingers, even with the water masking most of it—floral, sweet, and... wet.
It’s making my cock come to life.
I stop mid-stride, gripping the back of the couch. “Get a grip, Rowan. Just walk the fuck away.”
But I don’t. Instead, I head to the closet and yank out one of my oldest sweatshirts, the kind that’s two sizes too big for her, and a pair of old sweatpants. Something to cover her up, at least. That should help.
The water shuts off, and I freeze again. My chest is tight, and my fists clench around the fabric in my hands.
She steps out, the bathroom door creaking slightly. Her skin’s blotchy, like she scrubbed herself raw, and her breathing is still ragged. But it’s the towel that does me in.
It’s clinging to her, barely covering what it’s supposed to, and water is sliding down her neck, over her collarbone...
Fuck me.
She looks up, her amber eyes meeting mine. They’re glowing—an Omega in heat. It’s unmistakable.
“What’s your name?” she whispers shakily.
“Rowan,” I manage, my throat dry as sandpaper. I toss the clothes to the floor, unable to bring myself to step closer.
She nods and admits, “This… this has never happened before.”
I try to breathe, try to focus, but her scent is still there, still driving me insane. “What do you mean, ‘never happened?’”
“I take suppressants,” she says, her eyes darting to the floor, then back up at me.
Suppressants. Yeah, they don’t mean shit when you’re this close to an Alpha.
“Clearly, they’re not working,” I bite out, my voice pitched low. My fists are digging into my thighs now. I’m desperate for control. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
“I didn’t mean to,” she says, and I can see her hands shaking.
I take a step back, trying to create space between us, but it doesn’t help. Her scent clings to the air, and the sound of her breathing only makes it worse.
“I can’t… I can’t leave,” she says, eyes wide and pleading.
“Fuck,” I grit out under my breath.
She whimpers, and I’m done. My body moves before my brain can stop it, stepping closer until her scent completely surrounds me.
I dip my head toward her neck, just to breathe her in, to confirm what I already know.
“You’re an Alpha,” she whispers, and her voice trembles even more.
“Yes,” I growl, hands twitching at my sides.
“Please don’t hurt me,” she says. Her amber eyes are wide with fear and something else—something primal.
I close my eyes, forcing myself to step back, but my body rebels. My hand moves to her thigh, sliding up before I can think better of it. She’s so soft. So fucking warm.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” I repeat, but it’s half-hearted. My voice is rough, ragged.
Her hands are on my bicep now, her grip weak but insistent. “Okay,” she breathes out, her gaze pleading.
“I can’t fuck you,” I say, though the words feel like a lie.
Her lips part like she’s about to speak, but nothing comes out. Instead, she presses her legs together, her scent spiking, and it’s too much.
“But I can help.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
Her brows knit together in confusion. “How?”
I take another step, my hand moving between her thighs. She doesn’t stop me, doesn’t pull away. Her body practically arches toward me.
“This,” I say, my fingers finding her center. She’s already wet, so wet I almost groan out loud.
She gasps, her hands clutching my arms as my fingers slide inside her. One, then two. Her body tightens around them, and I curl them just right, drawing a broken cry from her lips.
“Fuck,” she whispers, her head falling back.
“Yeah,” I murmur, my voice rough. “That’s it.”
Her amber eyes meet mine, glazed over with need, and I can’t look away. I pump my fingers inside her slick heat, watching every flicker of her expression.
“More,” she begs, now desperate.
I oblige, curling my fingers deeper, harder, until she’s gasping, her nails digging into my arms.
“Don’t stop,” she pleads, her breath hitching.
I don’t. My focus is solely on her now, on the way her body responds to every movement, every stroke. Her scent is overwhelming, intoxicating, and I know I’m teetering on the edge.
Her thighs tighten around my hand, and I know she’s close. I lean in, my lips brushing against her ear as I growl, “Let go.”
And she does. Her body trembles, her head falling back as she cries out, her release coating my fingers.
I pull back slightly, chest heaving, and watch her come down from the high. Her amber eyes flutter open, still dazed, and I swear they glow even brighter.
“This… this isn’t supposed to happen,” she whispers, her voice still shaky.
“No,” I say, my jaw tight. “It’s not.”
But as I look at her, flushed and spent, I know there’s no going back.