Chapter 15 Lena #2
Silas looked different now. The cold fury that had locked his features a moment ago was gone, replaced by something rougher. His jaw flexed as he dragged a hand down his face, frustration written in every line of him.
“I didn’t mean to growl,” he muttered. “It’s just that… that fucking scar, Lena.”
"Fuck!" his voice rose again, sharp with emotion.
Knox shot him a look.
Silas exhaled hard and looked away toward the window. His hands braced on his thighs like he needed something solid to hold onto.
“What he means,” Knox said calmly, “is that it’s hard for us to think about what you went through.”
His fingers circled my wrist, tightening carefully.
“Remember what Dr. Hampton told you? Alphas are wired to protect omegas. It’s instinct.”
“We’re not angry with you,” Knox repeated
Silas scoffed under his breath, the sound edged with bitterness.
“We’re angry with him,” Silas continued his brother's sentence, disgust threading through his voice.
“And with ourselves,” Knox added softly. “Because we weren’t able to protect you when he did this.”
He guided my hand away from my chest, exposing the scar again. Its thick, ragged line cut through the soft curve of my breast, bisecting my nipple, making it uneven and distorted.
I stiffened, bracing for their angry looks.
But Knox only studied it with quiet focus.
“I know you’re ashamed of this,” he said.
His fingers lifted to my chin, turning my face toward his.
“You shouldn’t be.”
His voice didn’t waver.
“You’re so beautiful.”
His hand drifted down my body, fingertips brushing lightly along the raised line of scar tissue.
“This,” he whispered, tracing the jagged path with careful reverence, “is proof you survived.”
Silas shifted behind him.
He still wasn’t looking at me.
His gaze stayed locked on the scar, jaw clenched still.
“We want every part of you,” Knox continued. "Even the broken ones. Even the ones someone else tried to destroy."
His fingers stilled, resting lightly over the scar.
“Even this.”
Then he dipped forward.
His lips brushed the scar, tenderly pressing slow kisses along its length. The contact made my breath hitch. He followed the line carefully, as if he were memorizing it, until he reached my nipple. His mouth closed around the ruined peak, drawing it in with a soft pull.
My back arched off the mattress.
The sight of his brother's lips on my breast loosened Silas' rage. Heat crept back in as he watched, hovering closer.
“Do you like his mouth on you?” Silas asked.
The words came out rough, teeth clenched around them like he was trying to cage whatever he was feeling.
I nodded, glancing up at him just before my head tipped back again, a quiet moan slipping free as Knox’s lips tightened around my nipple.
“Fuck,” Silas muttered.
The mattress shifted as his knees hit it, body settling between my legs.
“I’m going to put my mouth on you too,” Silas said, “Right here. Okay?”
His fingers brushed the inside of my thigh, gathering my dripping slick, then lightly grazed my core.
Knox stilled for a moment, lifting his head to look at me.
“He wants to apologize,” Knox said. “For growling. For scaring you. Let him, runt.”
I nodded.
Silas didn’t hesitate after that.
He bent forward, burying his face between my legs, his mouth moving with intent. His long tongue licked slow, lazy strokes, testing and learning what I responded to, before deepening the pressure.
Knox returned to my chest at the same time, his mouth working over my nipples again, alternating between them.
It was so touching.
So much contact.
For years that kind of closeness would have sent me spiraling, every nerve screaming for escape.
But this time—
I wanted more.
More.
More.
I had been starving for so long. Starved of kindness, of comfort, and of contact that didn’t come with pain.
And this… this was good.
Better than good.
So instead of bracing, instead of shrinking away, I let myself drown in it. I disassociated, drifting into every sensation, every careful touch, and every place their mouths lingered.
Something stirred.
A slow pulse began between my legs, growing stronger with every lap of silas tongue. He alternated, sucking on my little clit, and dipping his tongue into my core. Heat raced along my veins, spreading outward through my body like a wildfire.
The tension climbed higher and higher until suddenly—
Silas growled, right against my center, sending vibrations through my core, stimulating my needly clit.
It broke.
A strangled cry tore from my throat as pleasure flooded through me, my body shaking beneath the force of it.
The world blurred for a moment.
When I finally opened my eyes again, both brothers were staring down at me.
Their expressions shifted.
Hard confusion creased the lines in their faces.
“Are you okay?” Knox asked quickly, his hands pulling away as his eyes searched my face. “Did we hurt you?”
Silas pulled back abruptly too, rising from the mattress and retreating to the window again, dropping into his chair like distance might fix whatever he was feeling.
My fingers brushed my own cheek.
Wet.
I blinked down at them.
Tears.
“Why are you crying, little mute?” Silas asked, his voice harder now. Concern and frustration twisted together, but he didn't turn around.
My head tilted, ready to answer the way I always did — with a nod.
But something else happened instead.
My lips parted.
And a small, fragile sound slipped out.
“I… I…”
My voice was so faint I barely recognized it.
The room froze.
“I… don’t know,” I whispered. “I feel… good.”
Silas’s head snapped toward me so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor.
Knox went perfectly still.
For a moment neither of them moved.
“You—” Knox started, then stopped.
His eyes widened slightly, disbelief flickering across his face before he quickly tried to smooth it away.
“Lena,” he said carefully.
My chest tightened, panic creeping in now that I realized what I had done.
I had spoken.
Knox’s hand cupped the side of my face again.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Easy.”
His thumb brushed away the tears still sliding down my cheeks.
“You’re okay. You did so good letting us touch you,” he murmured. “You’re safe.”
His reassurances, praise, and scent wrapped around me, grounding the sudden storm of emotion rushing through my chest.
“This is progress,” he continued quietly. “You needed this.”
His forehead rested briefly against mine.
“We’re going to keep doing this,” he promised. “Keep practicing touch with you. Keep helping you find your voice again.”
I tracked his hand as it slid to the back of my head, fingers gentle in my hair.
“We’ll rebuild every piece of you he tried to break,” Knox said softly. “Until you’re whole again.”
Silas finally looked back at me, his eyes dark and unwavering. His voice cut through the quiet from where he stood by the window.
“He didn’t just leave scars on you.”
His fist balled as his gaze dropped briefly, before lifting again.
“He fed something in us.”
A slow breath left him.
“Seeing what he did to you fed the rage Knox and I have carried since our mother died. It poured fuel on every violent, ugly thing already simmering inside us.”
His fingers curled against the arm of the chair.
“And now it’s certain.”
Silas’s voice turned cold with promise.
“Marco won’t get a quick death.”
Another pause.
“Every pain he carved into you,” he said, “we’re going to carve back into him.”
His eyes locked with mine again.
“Piece by piece.”
Knox didn’t react to Silas’s violent promise.
Not a flicker of surprise. Not a word of caution.
He accepted it the same way he accepted most things that came from his brother: easily, without question, as if the promise of torture was simply another fact of the world.
It reminded me that the tender nature Knox showed me was an exception.
A kindness reserved only for me.
Because the truth was that both of them were something else entirely.
Violence and rage given human form.
Silas carried his openly. Knox buried his beneath calm words and steady hands, but it lived in him all the same.
Knox’s arm tightened gently around me, pulling me close against his chest. His hand slid to the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair.
“Easy, runt” he murmured, pressing a light kiss to my forehead. “You’re safe here.”
I let myself settle against him, as my thoughts replayed what had just happened.
My voice.
I had spoken.
Not a nod. Not a gesture.
Words.
Knox’s thumb brushed the tears from my cheek.
“That’s it,” he said softly. “Just breathe. Such a good omega.”
My voice and touch. Two things I thought were lost forever.
Across the room, Silas stood at the window again, watchful and still.
Knox’s hand continued massaging my scalp.
“We’ll take it slow,” he murmured. “All the time you need.”
They weren’t just promising to rebuild me someday.
They had already begun.