72. Jack
Jack
"Jack." Clara's voice comes to me in a dream. "Jack."
My eyes blink open to find her beautiful green ones staring down at me. She’s smiling. Talking. Her eyes are green again. The heat haze has broken. Not fully receded, but enough.
Our first heat is almost over. The thought aches, but the joy of having my Apple back is stronger. I’ve missed breakfast with her in the morning. Cozy movies at night. Her laughter at the Café. The sight of her scribbling over notepads on the beach.
I sit up, wrapping my arms around her. "Apple." I kiss her forehead, cheek, throat. She giggles, and it hits me like lightning striking a rod. "How are you feeling?"
She takes a deep breath in and out, and I brace myself. We’d been careful not to hurt her, but if we’d missed something I’d die and become a ghost like Finian. We could haunt the place together.
"I want to bond," she breathes.
My. Fucking. Heart. Stops.
"You’re ready, Ghost?" Bram cuts in. I look to him, but he only has eyes for our omega.
But Clara, she only has eyes for me as she nods.
"Looks like she’s chosen her first," Bram says. I glance between them. Traditionally, the dominant alpha bonds first—but Bram just looks… proud.
"Ap ple, are you sure?" I ask.
"Jack, you always take such good care of everyone. Such good care of us. Let us give this to you. I want to be part of you, and I need you to be part of me," she insists.
My chest tightens, and heat coils low in my gut.
She pushes on my shoulders until I’m flat on my back. Then she’s lowering herself onto my cock, slow and steady, drowning me in the hot grip of her. A groan rips out of me. God, I’ll never get over the feel of her.
"Jack, please," she gasps, "bite me."
My teeth ache with the need, and I surge forward, sinking them into her collarbone as I thrust into her in short hot thrusts.
She cries out, her pussy clamping hard around me.
I’m seconds from breaking when she leans in, bites into my neck just under my ear, hard enough to tear me open in the best way.
It’s like a locked door in my soul slams wide. She’s pouring in, her belief, her love, her devotion, flooding me until I can barely breathe.
Clara is a missing piece finally slotting into place.
I’m home.