Chapter Thirty-Three
Lucian
I t’s been hours.
And yes, I've been counting. Like a psychopath. Or a tax auditor. Whatever.
While they fucked her.
While they bonded her.
While the scent of slick and submission poured through the walls of my family estate like a goddamn sex fog machine someone forgot to unplug.
I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t break .
I walked the perimeter. Reinforced the property. Checked the security grid three times. Rewrote the firewall code just to feel something. I alphabetized the weapons locker. Twice.
I even cleaned the espresso machine.
Because if I’d let myself go anywhere near that door - if I’d even glanced toward the room where my omega was moaning like a symphony of sin - I would’ve kicked it off its hinges and reminded all three of them who the fuck I am.
But I didn’t.
Because I’m better than that.
I’m disciplined.
In theory.
And still, I heard everything . Every soft cry. Every broken gasp. Every filthy sound of slick and knotless fuckery echoing through this ancestral home , might I remind you.
Ash’s grunts. Theo’s reverent muttering. Kai’s laughable attempt at dirty talk like he’s auditioning for a porno called The Alpha Who Never Shuts Up.
She gave herself to them. All three.
And I stayed away.
Not because I didn’t want her, but because I want her more than they ever will.
They shouldn’t even be here.
This was supposed to be mine. She was supposed to be mine.
Claimed. Controlled. Adored.
Kept under lock and scent-guard, not rolled in slick like she’s been basted in alpha gravy and passed around for seconds.
But no. They got there first.
Not because she chose them, but because I let them
Which is worse.
They don’t understand what this means. They think bonding is about thrusting and pheromones; like it’s a group project where everyone brings their own cock and takes turns with the omega-shaped pinata.
Idiots.
I waited. I planned. I studied. I read every case file, every suppressed report, every dusty book about bonded instinct cycles.
I’ve trained for this.
Meditated. Cold showers.
Learned fucking breathing techniques.
And she still chose them.
Except - she didn’t. Not fully.
Because the bonds may be there, humming under her skin like static electricity, but they haven’t knotted her. Not yet.
There’s no final claim. No lock. No seal.
No mine.
And do you know what that means?
It means they’re soft.
They got close, but they didn’t finish. They bonded, but they didn’t own. Maybe they couldn’t.
Maybe deep down, instinct held them back, because it knows.
I am the one she’s still waiting for. Even if she doesn’t admit it.
Especially then.
Because no matter how much slick she’s drowned in, no matter how many cocks she’s taken, I feel her.
Even now.
Even under layers of Kai’s sweat and Ash’s scent and Theo’s sanctimonious heat-sighs, I feel her reaching., tugging on something that hasn’t even been tied yet.
Me.
She’s calling for me, and she doesn’t even know it.
Which is fine.
Because she will.
And the second I walk through that door - when she sees that I waited, that I endured, that I’m still in control - I’ll show her what a real alpha is.
Not one who begs. Not one who shares.
One who takes. One who claims.
So go ahead, baby. Rest. Catch your breath.
Because the moment I touch you, you’ll know -
You weren’t meant for them.
You were built for me.
No normal bond feels like this. No casual connection slices through distance, cuts through walls, hums under my skin like this.
This isn’t chemistry, and it isn’t heat.
This is fate .
And the second I get my hands on her again, I’m going to make damn sure she knows it.
*
I walk the corridor with calm confidence.
Everything in this estate bends to me - doors, walls, security grids, the goddamn scent scrubbers in the vents.
And tonight? So will she.
At some point, they moved her back here. Out of the lounge. Out of the living room where she put on a whole unhinged heat-performance art piece with a full alpha audience.
Back where she should’ve stayed: locked down. Controlled. Monitored.
Safe.
And if that sounds like prison, congratulations. You understand exactly what I meant it to be.
The door at the end of the hall looms like a final boss, all steel and biometric locks and military-grade soundproofing. I don’t need a camera feed to know she’s behind it, I can feel her through the walls - hot, restless, spent, probably; but not satisfied. Not settled.
And definitely not mine. Yet.
Which means we’re not done here.
They thought they could handle her. Thought they could satisfy an omega like her by half-bonding and half-fucking and whispering poetic nonsense against her neck like it was foreplay and therapy all rolled into one.
Clowns.
Bonding is a spark. Knotting is a claim.
But marking? That’s the lock. The seal. The thing that lasts when the heat fades and all the pretty words stop working.
And none of them have done it.
Not Theo with his reverent hand-holding.
Not Ash with his disciplined rut-denial.
Not even Kai, who has all the self-restraint of a raccoon let loose in a bakery.
They bonded her, but they didn’t finish her.
So here we are.
I place my hand on the access panel, and the door hisses open with satisfying dramatic flair. The pressure releases, and the scent hits me like a sledgehammer wrapped in silk.
Slick. Heat. Hers.
Underneath it, unfortunately, are the ghosts of them.
Theo’s warmth. Ash’s storm. Kai’s chaos.
I breathe through the disgust. I’ve survived worse. Corporate retreats, for example.
I step inside, and there she is.
Rhea.
Curled in the center of the nest like something holy and profane at the same time. Skin flushed, hair damp and clean, lips parted like she forgot to finish a thought. There’s a single sheet wrapped around her, barely. The curve of her hip peeks through. Her thigh shifts just slightly - enough to remind me she’s naked underneath.
Not a trap. A dare.
The nest itself is chaos, a mess of pillows and scent-worn shirts. Some of them are mine. I spot one balled near her head, close enough that she must’ve slept with it, and my chest does something treasonous and ridiculous like ache.
The second she sees me, something changes.
Not just her expression, her whole body.
Her toes curl. Her breath catches. Her hands fist in the sheet like it personally offended her.
Instinct.
I know the signs. I invented the goddamn manual.
She’s burning again - just beneath the surface - and this time, she’s looking at me.
Not the CEO. Not the control freak in custom tailoring. Not the asshole who reinforced this room with his own hands and walked away when she begged.
Me.
Her Alpha.
And she jolts like her nervous system just rebooted.
I take one step in, and the door seals behind me with a hiss.
The rest of them? They’re done here. Their part in this little heat-driven Greek tragedy is over.
Because she’s wrecked. Ruined. Drenched in their half-assed efforts, but still hungry.
Still not complete.
And the bond she’s waiting for - the one that finishes this, the one that seals it - is mine.
I didn’t break.
And she feels it the moment I step closer.
Time to show her exactly what restraint really looks like, and what happens when I stop holding it.
“Took you long enough,” she says, voice sharp as broken glass dipped in sarcasm. “Or did you just need three alphas to warm me up for you first?”
Oh, perfect. She’s mad. Fantastic. Excellent .
Definitely not what my overworked, overstimulated, heavily-repressed brain needed after pacing the estate like a sociopathic Roomba for the past four hours.
“If I’d known you were handing out participation trophies,” I say flatly, “maybe I’d have joined the queue.”
She crosses her arms. Which wouldn’t be a problem if she weren’t still wearing Kai’s goddamn hoodie like it’s a uniform for poor life choices.
That thing needs to be burned, and quickly.
“No smug little speech tonight?” she snaps. “No filthy monologue through the door?”
I arch a brow. “You missed me?”
She laughs. It’s not cute, and it’s not flirty.
It’s the laugh of a woman who’s two seconds away from stabbing me with a blunt spoon.
“ Please . You think you matter enough for me to miss you?”
“Careful, Omega,” I grin at her. “Don’t mistake my silence for surrender.”
“Oh, is that what we’re calling abandonment now?” She stands, the sheet slipping a little, and I watch it happen like it’s a tactical maneuver. “Because from where I was standing - dripping, shaking, waiting - you weren’t silent. You were gone .”
“I figured you had your hands full,” I say. “Theo and Ash seemed... occupied.”
She glares, hair wild, eyes brighter than they have any right to be, chest still flushed with heat.
“And you were the one I wanted to walk through that door,” she spits. “I felt you, Lucian. You were there. I reached for you.”
I step closer. “You bonded to them.”
“And you think that was about you?” she fires back, like I’ve personally insulted her uterus.
“I think,” I say calmly, “you had a tantrum. And instead of waiting like a good little omega, you let them bond you like a heat-drunk amateur in a high school gym storage closet.”
Her scent spikes.
She’s furious.
Good.
“Not everything is about you,” she snaps.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I say, stepping even closer. “It’s always been about me.”
She sneers. “You’re such an ass.”
“And yet,” I say, gaze dropping to her lips, “you begged for it through a steel door.”
“If I wanted your attention,” she says, taking a step forward, “I’d know how to get it.”
“Big words,” I murmur, letting my voice drop. “Especially for someone who couldn’t get my name out between moans.”
She tilts her head, all sugar and threat. “Maybe I just wanted it in my mouth.”
My jaw flexes.
That’s it. The last thread of control? Vaporized.
I’ve got a hundred years of family reputation and forty-seven pages of corporate bylaws telling me to walk away - and I would. I swear to god, I would.
If she weren’t so goddamn perfect when she’s angry.
“You think you could handle that?” I ask softly, stepping in until she’s nearly touching my chest. “You think you could kneel and take my cock like it wouldn’t wreck you for every other man in the room?”
“I’d do it just to shut you up,” she hisses. “Unless your voice is vibrating between my thighs, I don’t care what it has to say.”
I blink once.
“Feisty,” I murmur. “What happened to the sweet little omega begging through the door?”
“She was vulnerable. Hopeful. Optimistic ,” she snaps. “Before the alpha she wanted decided to ghost her like a cold-calling recruiter.”
My jaw tightens. “I didn’t ghost you.”
“Oh no?” she says. “What would you call standing on the other side of the door, listening while I fell apart?”
“I call it control.”
“Well, congratu-fucking-lations ,” she says, trembling. “You’ve got all the control in the world, and not a single goddamn claim.”
And there it is. The truth.
Buried under her temper, under mine.
She's still reaching. Still calling to the one alpha who hasn’t touched her yet.
“You’ve been trying to provoke me for days,” I say coolly. “Strutting around in my shirt. Letting them scent you. Luring me here like some heat-drunk little siren who doesn’t understand what she’s calling to.”
“I do understand,” she snaps.
“Then why are you still standing?”
We stare each other down, the air between us electric, crackling with heat and want and fury.
She’s seething . But underneath that, she’s starving.
And me?
I’m fucking ravenous .
My control cracks, and I move - fast . I grab her by the back of the neck and pull her with me like she weighs nothing at all.
She gasps - limbs flailing, mouth parted - and then instinct curls her against me like she knows.
But I don’t cradle. I don’t soothe.
I dominate.
Three steps. Wall. Hard . I pin her back against it, my body crushing hers, my hands locking her wrists overhead.
“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” I growl.
“I think I do,” she spits. “You’re just scared you’re the one who can’t handle it.”
I press my forehead to hers.
“You let the others fuck you,” I snarl. “Let them lick you and fill you and scent you -”
“And I liked it ,” she fires right back, eyes bright. “Want me to describe it? How good it felt? How I came around each of them?”
I growl.
“You’re not jealous,” she whispers, taunting. “You’re just furious that you weren’t first.”
My hands tighten around her wrists. She gasps, but doesn’t pull back.
I can smell it - her arousal. Thick. Sweet. Heavy .
It coils through the air like perfume meant only for me.
“You’re wrong,” I breathe against the sharp line of her jaw. “Because I’m going to be the one you remember.”
I grab the back of her neck, then spin her.
She barely has time to gasp before I slam her palms to the wall, my body crowding hers, caging her in.
It takes only a moment to pull the shirt from her body and discard of it somewhere behind us, leaving her perfectly bare before me.
Her thighs shift, parting on instinct. Her ass lifts, high and perfect.
And fuck - I let myself just look .
I fist her hair and pull her head back - just enough to arch her for me. My other hand presses down on the small of her back, guiding her until she’s gasping, spine bowed like an offering.
“ Fuck, ” I hiss under my breath as my eyes roam over her body.
I take a step back, watching as she stays pinned perfectly in place as I start to undress.
I unbutton my shirt one clasp at a time, watching her watch me out of the corner of her eye - the way her lashes flutter, her thighs clench, her lip catches between her teeth. I shrug the shirt off my shoulders and drop it on the floor.
Next is my belt. The slide of the leather through the loops is silent, lethal.
She flinches at the sound. I smirk.
My pants are next. I pop the button. Lower the zipper. My cock is flushed, heavy, and leaking.
She gasps when she sees it.
I stroke once. Slowly . Just enough to coat it in precome. Just enough to taunt her.
Then I step back in.
I press my cock between her thighs, let it drag through the soaked, swollen outline of her cunt.
Once. Twice.
Each pass earns a little moan. A little shake. A little give.
She tries to rock back, desperate for relief, and I lean in closer, my chest brushing her back.
“If you want it,” I murmur at her ear, my voice rough, full of the weeks - no, months of hunger I’ve held back, “say it.”
She hisses through her teeth, all stubborn and proud, still pissed at me.
“I’m not begging you.”
A slow, feral grin spreads across my mouth.
God, I love her fight.
I drag the head of my cock through her slick again, smearing it over both of us, making her whimper.
“You let them fuck you,” I huff against her ear. “Fill you. Bond you.”
Her breath catches. Her whole body stiffens in defiance.
“But it still didn’t take it away, did it?” I grind my cock against her clit, making her jolt, making her feel every swollen inch of me. “Still didn’t get rid of me. ”
Her hands fist against the wall. She shakes her head - angry, aching.
“No,” she snaps. “It didn’t.”
My fingers tighten on her hips. My teeth bare.
“Say it.”
She throws her head back, panting, furious, and beyond needy.
“I want it,” she growls. “Lucian - I, fuck, I want your knot.”
My vision whites out for a second.
Finally.
“Of course you do,” I rasp. My fist wraps around the base of my cock as I line up against her soaking entrance. “Because your body?” I rock against her again, teasing, threatening. “Your body was waiting for me.”
I bury myself inside her in one brutal, final thrust.
Her knees buckle instantly. Her hands slam against the wall, scrabbling for purchase as her whole body seizes around me. I hold still - sunk to the hilt, cock pulsing - letting her feel the stretch , the claim , the fucking inevitability of it.
I don’t move.
“You feel that?” I growl, voice raw. “That’s me . Not one of your soft little alphas. Not one of the ones who let you set the pace and moan their names.”
I pull back slow. Almost all the way out.
Then slam forward so hard the impact makes her cry out.
Her head snaps around. She meets my eyes over her shoulder - amber wild, pupils blown wide - and that perfect mouth of hers curls.
“Took you long enough.”
Fucking hell .
“You’ll be regretting that tone in three seconds,” I mutter.
“ Try me, ” she hisses, digging her nails into the wall.
Challenge. Pride. Fire.
God, she was made for me.
I yank my hips back and slam into her again; harder, deeper, even more brutal. She sobs, her cunt clenching down so viciously I almost see stars. My whole body locks to keep from coming right then and there.
“Fucking finally, ” she sobs, pushing back into me, desperate for more. “Harder, Lucian - fuck, don’t you dare hold back -”
I slam into her again, bottoming out, drowning in the feel of her heat, her slick, her body accepting me after all this time.
I brace one hand against the small of her back, the other tangled in her hair, and when she tries to wiggle her hips, to taunt me, I snap.
“Stay still, ” I order, grinding my cock deep, locking her against the wall.
“Or what?” she whispers, ragged and wicked.
I lean in, my mouth hot at her ear. “I’ll knot you so deep you’ll feel it in your fucking teeth. You want harder?” I growl. “You think you can take more?”
She bucks back again, those amber eyes still locked on mine from over her shoulder.
“I know I can.”
And fuck me - I actually believe her.
I start to fuck her in earnest - hard, savage strokes, punishing and perfect. The sound of skin slapping roughly against skin fills the room as her body jerks with every thrust. Slick gushes down her thighs, between us, onto the floor, and I hold her hips tight, slamming forward with bone-rattling force.
Because this isn’t just sex - this is everything we’ve held back. Every look, every snap, every breathless almost .
“You want it that bad, Alpha?” she gasps, breathless but defiant. “Then take it.”
My thrusts grow savage - hips snapping forward with violent, punishing rhythm. Each one an answer, a brand.
“You think I won’t?” I growl against her ear. “You think I haven’t dreamed of this? Pictured you spread out like this, moaning like a perfect little bitch in heat?”
She jolts with every movement. Her legs tremble, body slamming into the wall with each brutal thrust, but she stays upright - head high, eyes sharp.
“I knew you were mean,” she bites out, “but I didn’t know you’d be this fucking good.”
“You don’t even know what good is yet.” I slam into her again. “You’ll know when you can’t walk tomorrow.”
“Don’t make promises you can't keep, Vale,” she gasps out.
I almost laugh.
“You think I won’t wreck you?”
“ Prove it .”
I rut into her once - twice - then grab her by the back of the neck. She gasps as I yank her upright, her back flush to my chest, her cunt still squeezing around my cock, her whole body trembling.
“Off the wall,” I rasp against her ear. “Now.”
I march her forward with short, jerking steps, still buried inside her, our bodies moving as one.
She stumbles, gasping, letting me guide her, push her, drag her toward the bed.
The same fucking bed she let them touch her on.
The thought sends something vicious ripping through me.
Her knees hit the mattress, and I shove her down, my cock throbbing as she falls forward onto her hands, sprawling, ass high, thighs spread.
Still open for me. Still dripping for me.
Only me.
I grip her hips hard enough to leave bruises and thrust back in from behind. She cries out as I pick right back up into a brutal, punishing rhythm, pounding into her cunt with every ounce of rage and hunger and need I’ve been burying since the second I met her.
“Look at you,” I growl, snapping my hips against her ass. “You were right here, weren’t you? Letting them fuck you. Letting them fill you.”
A sharp, filthy slap of our bodies meeting echoes through the room.
“But none of it mattered, did it?”
I fuck into her harder. Deeper.
“No,” she gasps, voice breaking.
I slam into her again, making the bedframe creak, making her sob my name.
“That’s right,” I nod, dragging her hips back to meet every brutal thrust. “You were just getting ready for me. Getting broken open. Getting ruined. ”
Her slick gushes around me, soaking my cock, soaking the sheets.
I slow the pace just slightly - grinding in, rocking my cock against every nerve inside her, making sure she feels every vein, every swollen inch.
“You think they fucked you?” I rasp against her skin. “You think they claimed you?”
I pull almost all the way out and then drive back in to the hilt, my balls slapping wetly against her soaked thighs.
“They didn’t.”
Another thrust.
“They couldn’t.”
Harder.
“They’re not me. ”
She screams my name, and I tighten my grip on her hips as I drive my cock into her like I’ve got something to prove.
“I want my scent all over you,” I tell her. “Want every fucking part of you dripping alpha by the time I’m done.”
“You’ll have it,” she promises. “Just don’t stop.”
I don’t .
I don’t let her rest. I don’t give her time. I fuck her like she was built for it.
“You feel that?” I grunt. “Your sweet little Omega cunt’s milking my cock like it knows who I am.”
She gasps, pushing back against me like she can’t stand even an inch of space between us.
“You want more?”
“Yes - fuck, Lucian, I want everything - ”
“Then you’ll take it,” I growl against her ear, voice dark and cracked with feral hunger. “You begged for this the second you opened your thighs, so you don't get to whimper now, Omega. You fucking take it. "
One hand slides up her body - finding her throat, pinning her in place with nothing but the weight of my palm and the promise of it - while the other roams lower, cupping the firm swell of her ass, squeezing possessively.
“My messy little Omega." I trace my thumb down the cleft, feeling the slick already running everywhere, soaking her skin, dripping down her thighs. “Look what I’m doing to you.”
Her hips rock back against me, desperate, her body begging for more.
I scoop some of her slick with my fingers - all sticky and hot - and smear it over her tight little rim, thumbing it in slow, deliberate circles as I fuck her harder, deeper, rougher.
She jerks at the first brush, a high, gasping sound punching out of her.
“Yeah, you feel that?” I murmur, breath hot against her ear. “You’re not just going to take me here -”
I thrust deep, punctuating the words.
“- you’re gonna take me everywhere. ”
I press my thumb more firmly against her ass, feeling her whole body flutter around it, so fucking ready without even knowing.
"One day, Omega," I rasp, my voice splintering as I keep working her open, fucking her, holding her, wrecking her, "I’m going to be buried in both your holes. Knot your cunt while I stretch your ass around my fingers. Fill you so full you can’t tell where one bond ends and the next one begins."
“Oh my god, ” she groans, her voice filled with pure desire.
"But tonight," I pant, hips slamming against her, cock grinding even deeper, "tonight you get my knot in the only place that matters."
I rub my thumb over her ass again, teasing the tight muscle even as my cock pistons harder, dragging wrecked cries from her throat with every punishing thrust.
"You let them have you first," I rasp, grinding deeper, rougher, the bed rocking under us, "and yet here you are. Bent for me. Crying for me. Dripping for me. "
I snap my hips forward, hard enough to make the bed frame creak dangerously.
“Say it,” I demand, wrapping my hand around her throat. “Tell me who you fucking belong to.”
My hips keep on snapping forward with intent, each slam of my cock an invasion, a punishment, a fucking signature . Her legs are struggling to hold her, her body jerking under the force of each harsh thrust.
And though her breath hitches, her voice doesn’t waver.
“Lucian -” she gasps. “I’m yours .”
I slam into her. Once. Twice.
A deep, ruthless rhythm that pounds her into the wall.
“Louder.”
I move my hands to grip her hips like handles, fingers biting into soft flesh, anchoring her in place as I ruin her with my cock.
“ Yours! I’m yours!”
Gasps. Moans. Wordless little sobs.
That’s all she has left.
Her cunt milks me like it’s desperate to keep me - fluttering, clenching, slick gushing with every punishing thrust.
I lean over her, hips pistoning as one of my hands snakes around her front and pinches at her swollen clit. She cries out as I do it again and again and again; switching between drawing tight circles over the sensitive flesh and squeezing at it with two fingers until she’s sobbing with the pleasure.
“You like that?” I murmur. “You like being used like this?”
“I like your hands,” she pants. “I like your cock. I like this - all of it.”
I grab her by the waist, yank her back hard against me, and pound into her like there’s no tomorrow - because for this moment, for her, for us, there isn’t.
“Fucking perfect Omega.”
Nothing else exists.
Just my cock. Her cunt. The bond like fire in my blood.
And her voice, thick with heat and defiance, still pushing, still claiming.
“Harder, Lucian,” she gasps. “Come on. Don’t hold back. Not with me.”
I lose it.
“That’s right,” I growl. “You’ll take it.”
Her thighs tremble. Her cunt tightens.
She’s close, and so am I.
“Ruin me,” she gasps. “Fucking do it. Give me everything, Alpha.”
I fuck up into her with every ounce of strength I have.
“You’re mine ,” I growl, voice rough, breaking, cracking like the instinct has finally split me in two. “You’re going to feel me for days. You’ll be leaking my come when you sleep, when you walk, when you try to pretend you’re still your own.”
I slam forward. Again. Again. Until the bond inside me burns bright and unbearable.
“I don’t want to pretend.”
I fuck her faster. Harder. Deeper.
No space between us now. No air.
Just slick skin and punishing rhythm and the heat of her body wringing my cock like it was made for me.
“ Please , Lucian,” she sobs. “Please, I want it - give it - ah . Give me your knot.”
My hips slap against her ass, rhythm unrelenting, driving her into the wall over and over as her cries rise into something near feral.
“Beg for it.”
“I want it,” she gasps. “Lucian, I want your knot. Please, Alpha. I want to feel it lock. Please. ”
Her body arches, opens, offering -
But it’s not just physical anymore.
I feel her. Not just her body, but her soul. Reaching. Calling. Begging.
It’s not a thought, it’s a pull. Old as time. Deep as blood. Instinct crawling to the surface like fire through dry grass.
Her pleasure burns through me - I feel it like a brand against my chest, her cries reverberating in my ribcage, in my bones. She’s reaching for me - not with her hands, but with everything else.
And I reach back, right as my last thread of resistance snaps.
My knot slams forward, thick and swollen, catching at her entrance with a force that makes her whole body shake.
She wails ; h igh, broken and perfect.
Her cunt spasms around me - hard, violent , like it’s trying to lock me inside her forever. Slick pours down my cock, splattering our thighs, the sheets, everywhere; marking the room with proof that her body knew who she belonged to all along.
“Fuck - Omega - Rhea -”
The bond slams into place like it’s been waiting all along.
Not a soft click, not a whisper; but a rupture. A seismic crack in my chest, splitting me down the center, opening me up to something ancient, brutal, and undeniable.
It doesn’t creep in slowly - it consumes. It explodes. It devours.
And my release hits with it.
A roar tears from my throat, and I call out her name like it’s the only word I’ve ever known - like it’s the only sound that’s ever mattered.
“Rhea - fuck - Rhea .”
My cock jerks in deep, devastating pulses as I come inside her, flooding her full, knot locking in a brutal swell that seals us, fuses us, leaves no space between what we are and what we’ve just become.
She moans - head back, body shaking - and through the flood of instinct, of slick, of white-hot Alpha ecstasy, I feel her.
All of her.
Not just her cunt fluttering around my cock, not just the slick soaking down my thighs. Not just the twitching, writhing need that rolls through her every time my knot throbs inside her.
But the bond.
Her .
Blazing bright and open.
The need to finish it rises so hard and sharp and sudden in my throat that it almost breaks me.
I want to bite her.
I want to sink my teeth into the space between her neck and shoulder, deep and final. I want to mark her so that no one - not Ash, not Theo, not Kai - can ever pretend this isn’t what it is.
And the message is clear. Through the bond, it rings out loud as thunder.
Yesyesyesyesyes.
I could do it. Right now.
She’d take it. She’d welcome it. She’s pouring that yes into me with every breath, every beat, every trembling sob of satisfaction and joy and surrender.
But I don’t.
I press my mouth to the curve of her neck instead - kiss her there, just above the place I’m meant to mark - and I breathe her in.
Because I can’t. Not yet.
Not when everything about this has been bigger than just the two of us from the start.
And fuck , it kills me.
My arms lock around her tighter. My knot pulses deep inside her - and I don’t move. Not even an inch.
She sags forward, boneless, utterly spent, held upright only by my grip and the sheer size of me still locked inside her. Her breathing comes in shallow gasps. Her skin glistens. Her body trembles with the aftershocks.
I lower my forehead between her shoulder blades and close my eyes.
The bond hums, louder now. Familiar. Ancient. Fated.
It sings in my blood. In hers.
Because I’m inside her now. Because I’m in her now.
We’re tied. Bound. And for the first time in what feels like forever… I don’t feel rage. I don’t feel fury.
I feel calm. I feel her .
“You’re mine now,” I murmur, voice frayed and low, reverent even as it burns. “Finally.”
And she nods.
Just once. Small. Sure.
But I feel it through the bond.
Yes .
I hold her for minutes - maybe longer - still buried, still knotted, still full. Her slick coats my thighs. My come seeps from where we’re locked together.
Eventually, I’ll carry her to the bed. Eventually, my knot will release. Eventually, I’ll clean her, kiss her wrists, her hips, her collarbone. Worship the ruin we made.
But right now, we stay.
Not because we’re stuck, but because this is where we’re meant to be.
Burning. Together .