Chapter 35 #2
Violet sets her tiny hand on top of mine. “I know why,” she whispers, gazing into me. “I remember how they used to—what they did to you. It must be… so awful, to feel that way again.”
I shake my head, scrawling. Not awful. I want you. I just don’t want to lose control and let my Alpha hurt you. I couldn’t live with that.
Violet skims my terrible handwriting, her expression softening as tantalizingly gentle perfume winds into the summer breeze. “Ryker… I want you, too,” she whispers. “And, for whatever it’s worth, I don’t think your Alpha would ever hurt me.”
I’m less sure, especially given the dull pound in my knot.
Violet sees my rueful expression as I glance at my lap.
Her quiet laughter loosens the last piece of me that’s holding back.
I exhale in a rush, poising the pencil to write the four words I’ve wanted to tell her since the moment she appeared in that hallway.
I looked for you.
My sad, shameful truth. Even though I had no reason to believe she was alive, I still searched everywhere I could think of. Now I know I had her name wrong, but I spent years exhausting every database and resource Blackwood Corp had to offer.
Violet blinks at the ugly letters, understanding. Her scent soars and turns salty. Our gazes meet, hers spilling over. “I hoped you would,” she whispers. “If I could have, I would have looked for you, too.”
Fuck. My scorched heart throbs as I band my arms around her. Our bodies collide, and her perfume shifts, back to sweet and golden. Pleasure rolls through me. So perfect, it feels impossible.
Fuck it. If this is just a delusion, I’ve decided to go completely insane.
We stay that way for a long time, soaking up the sun and the surreal fact that we’re sitting in it. Together.
Free.
Wind ruffles the pages on her lap, and I lazily blink my eyes open. With another nod, I bump my chin on her shoulder, silently asking where she got it.
“Atlas,” she admits, chewing her lip again. “He gave it to me for art therapy.”
Huh. He tried the same thing with me, once upon a time. Allegedly, drawing painful experiences or half-formed memories can help release them. It never worked for me, but if it helps her…
I skim my lips along her collarbone, rumbling my approval. Violet watches, her green gaze shining. “I was—” she starts and then swallows. With shaky fingers, she turns to a random page hidden toward the middle of her book.
Revealing an image of me.
I recognize myself from years ago—gaunt and scarred, with a feral gleam in my eyes. Covered in scratches and artificially engineered muscle.
A monster.
Although. Here, in her drawing, I don’t look frightening. Somehow, despite the intensity radiating from every line, I look—
Scared.
Because that’s the secret only she understood.
I wasn’t terrifying. I was terrified.
Violet watches me breathe harder. Her voice drops to a quiet murmur. “I drew this earlier, and I was trying to remember… if we ever kissed.”
My mangled heart flips and flails. The memories I have are hazy, at best, shrouded by the drugs they kept me on and all the ways my brain tried to protect me from reality.
But… is she right?
“You were in and out of so many ruts,” she recalls, sympathy softening the angelic planes of her face. “And when you were in your right mind, you hated that they were watching us.”
She’s right. I took her any way I could get her because I had to—because she wanted me, and I loved her, and sinking inside her was the one spot of light in my entire existence—
Alphas in ruts normally don’t think about shit like kissing, though. It didn’t help that I was fanatical about shielding her. I used to hunker down on top, hiding her bare body from their view when I took her. Then I would bury my face in her hair and do everything I could to pretend we were alone.
Like we are now.
My right arm cinches around her waist, pulling her onto my right thigh. With my left hand, I reach for her beloved face, cupping it in my rough palm. Silently pouring apologies and pleas from my eyes into hers.
She takes them, whimpering as she nuzzles her forehead against mine. “I used to wish you had,” she admits, whispering inches from my lips. “All those nights I sat alone in that attic, I wanted the memory of that to hold onto. But now that I’m here, with you… I’m glad you waited.”
Fuck.
My heart.
I thought it was dead and buried. Beyond any sort of resurrection. But it was just… empty. Waiting.
For her.
Our gazes clash. And whatever dam held us back before—awe or reverence or fear—crumbles. We both move, coming together.
Our lips brush before they part and cling. Ten thousand volts electrify my chest, bringing me back to life. Another growl rumbles under my purr, edged in frustration. I wish I knew what I was doing.
Violet doesn’t seem much more confident, but she’s content to rub her plush lips over mine, teasing me with light touches of her tongue. On a tortured groan, I plunge into her mouth, lapping up her sweetness.
She whines, clinging to my loose hair. We fall together again and again, angling our faces differently each time, testing which way works best for us. Within moments, she’s straddling my leg, pressing her warm center over my denim-covered quad.
When wetness seeps through the fabric, my hands snap to her hips, tugging her closer. My raging cock pulses in time with the heartbeat blaring in my ears.
Violet grinds against me, whining into our kiss. I twine my fingers into her hair, weaving them against her scalp and flexing my thigh, giving her more pressure.
“Ryker,” she gasps. Her hips glide into a bucking motion as she bends at the waist, trying to line herself up with the seam of my jeans. I drop one hand to her waist, helping her find her angle as I nip her lip and sweep away the sting. Violet keens, breathlessly begging, “More, please, I—I’m—”
She’s needy, my little daisy. Her pussy is soaked and hot—I feel the heat radiating from her center when my fingers slide up her thigh, gliding through a thick layer of slick.
God, I want to take her. Sink myself back into the one bit of peace and pleasure I’ve ever known. The only home I’ve ever had.
I know I shouldn’t, though. Not out here in the dirt—and not while I’m wordless and wary of the beast prowling my center, pawing at his prison.
But I’ll never leave her wanting.
I’ll never leave her, period.
So I let myself reach for the panties molded to her mound. She presses herself into my palm and I purr louder, knowing the vibration will rattle her clit through the thin cotton. The little bud is so swollen, I easily trace its wet outline with my thumb
“Ry-Ryker,” she cries, whimpering into my mouth. “If we don’t stop, I’m g-going to—Oh God, I’m going to—”
“Come.”
The directive snaps out of me without warning—an order from my Alpha. Neither of us have a chance to be surprised because, within seconds, the rolls of her hips turn sloppy and uneven as she obeys.
My body does, too. While Violet rides my hand to a honeysuckle-drenched orgasm, my cock erupts, releasing a thick stream of heat in my pants.
Fuuuuucking hell.
Aside from the dreams I couldn’t control, this is the first time I’ve let myself come in years.
The sensation swallows me. Buzzing pleasure swamps my base, licking up my spine and down into my legs.
I groan again, spraying out more and more.
Unable to stop until I’m fighting to stuff air into my lungs.
Violet is patient and so damn sweet. She wraps herself around me while I rock against my drenched fly, cresting over wrenching aftershocks. My hands are rough, grabbing fistfuls of her hair and holding on like my life depends on it.
I think it just might.
My daisy sprinkles soft kisses all over my face as I relearn how to breathe. The second oxygen hits my burning lungs, I slump backward, collapsing into the wildflowers with her sprawled across my chest.
Holy. Fuck.
It’s really her. It’s really us. And it may not be easy, finding our way, but no matter what, we have this. For as long as I can convince her to keep me.
Poignant silence blankets us as Violet hides her face against my throat. I feel her tears and suddenly have to fight off my own. Both of our scents shift from pure, soaring perfection to something bittersweet.
But at least they’re entwined.
And outside, in the fresh air.
Another breeze sweeps over the meadow as Violet settles. Contentment winds into my limbs, and we both fall still.
Until we hear a meow.
Oh. Right.
That.
Violet lifts her head and blinks at the large basket beside us. When it moves slightly, she flashes accusatory green eyes at me.
“Ryker!” she exclaims, gracing me with a loud burst of uninhibited laughter for the very first time. “Did you bring me a kitten?”