Chapter 32
MAYA
The heat hits me while I'm nursing Ryaed in the palace gardens.
One moment I'm contentedly feeding our six-month-old daughter in the dappled shade of the rose arbor, the next my body floods with liquid fire that has nothing to do with the summer sun.
Slick gushes between my thighs as desperate need crashes through my system with an intensity that steals my breath.
My first heat since giving birth. Since sacrificing my divinity to save Thorian's people.
"Oh," I gasp, clutching Ryaed closer as waves of arousal roll through me. The baby makes a soft sound of protest at being jostled, then settles back to nursing with the oblivious contentment of someone whose world consists entirely of milk and warmth.
But for me, the world has narrowed to the desperate craving that makes my enhanced senses flare to life. I can smell Thorian's scent on the wind—cedar and earth and wild growing things—and my body responds with a hunger so fierce it borders on pain.
Through our mate bond, I feel his instant awareness of my condition. His presence in the throne room where he's hearing petitions from local farmers goes tense with barely contained need, and I know he's fighting every instinct that demands he come to me immediately.
The pull between us intensifies, that invisible thread that connects alpha to omega growing taut with mutual desire. I can feel his struggle to maintain royal composure while his body recognizes what mine needs.
Lady Elvinia appears at my side with the silent efficiency that comes from centuries of managing royal emergencies. "My lady," she says quietly, "perhaps we should move you to your chambers. The heat scent is beginning to affect the gardening staff."
I glance around to find several Fae courtiers working nearby have stopped their tasks entirely, their nostrils flaring as they catch the unmistakable perfume of omega in heat. None would dare approach—I'm clearly mated and protected—but the distraction is becoming noticeable.
"Good idea." I rise carefully, Ryaed still latched and feeding with single-minded determination. "Is she going to be alright during...?"
"Enhanced children sleep deeply during their parents' heat cycles," Elvinia assures me as we walk toward the palace. "It's a biological protection mechanism. She'll likely nap for the next few hours, giving you privacy for your reunion with his lordship."
By the time we reach the royal chambers, I'm dying.
Heat burns through my veins like molten honey, and every heartbeat sends fresh waves of slick down my thighs.
My undergarments are soaked through, clinging to sensitive flesh in ways that make me want to tear them off with my bare hands.
My breasts ache—heavy with milk but also throbbing with need that has nothing to do with nursing.
"Here," Lady Elvinia says, taking Ryaed from my arms. Thank god. I love our daughter desperately, but right now I can barely think past the fire consuming me from within.
The moment the door closes behind Elvinia, I'm clawing at my dress like it's trying to strangle me. The fabric feels like sandpaper against skin that's screaming for my alpha's touch. I need to be naked. Need to be ready. Need—
Oh god, I need Thorian's cock inside me before I lose my mind completely.
Six months. Six fucking months since I've felt him stretch me open, since I've been properly claimed during heat. The memory alone makes fresh slick gush between my legs, and I have to grip the bedpost to stay upright as another wave crashes through me.
In the mirror, I barely recognize myself.
My skin is flushed pink everywhere, nipples dark and tight, pussy lips swollen and glistening.
I look like I'm burning alive—and maybe I am.
This heat feels different than before. Stronger.
Like my body is celebrating everything we've survived by demanding to be fucked senseless.
Boots in the corridor. Heavy, familiar steps that make my cunt clench around nothing.
He's coming.
The door opens and there he is—my massive, beautiful alpha filling the doorway like he owns the world. His eyes find mine across the room and I watch his pupils blow wide as my heat scent hits him.
"Maya." My name comes out like a growl, and I can see the exact moment his rut starts responding to my desperation. The air between us turns electric, charged with need so thick I can taste it.
"Thorian," I breathe, and god, even saying his name makes me wetter. "I need you to fuck me. Please. I'm so empty I can't stand it."
He crosses the room in three strides, hands already tearing at his clothes. Every second he's not inside me feels like torture. My pussy throbs in time with my heartbeat, and I can feel more slick running down my thighs just from watching him undress.
When his shirt hits the floor, I nearly whimper at the sight. Eight feet of pure masculine power, all carved muscle and ancient grace. But when his cock emerges from its sheath—thick and ridged and already glistening—I actually do whimper.
"God, yes," I breathe, reaching for him with shaking hands. "I need that inside me right now."
His restraint finally snaps.
His mouth crashes into mine and I taste desperation, hunger, six months of wanting me so badly he's barely holding himself together. His hands tangle in my hair and I arch into him, pressing every inch of overheated skin against his powerful frame.
"I've missed this," he growls against my lips, his voice so rough it sends shivers down my spine. "Missed the way you smell in heat, the way your cunt gets so wet for me."
"Then stop talking and fuck me," I gasp, my hands clawing at his shoulders. Every second without his cock inside me feels like agony.
He lifts me like I weigh nothing, and suddenly I'm on the bed with him looming over me like some ancient god of sex. When he looks at me—really looks at me—I feel beautiful and wanted and so fucking desperate I might die from it.
"You're perfect," he murmurs, his hands mapping my body like he's trying to memorize every curve. "More beautiful than I remembered."
When he reaches my breasts, I nearly sob with relief. They're so full, so tender, aching for his touch. When his mouth closes over my nipple, I scream.
The sensation is lightning and honey and pure bliss all at once. He sucks gently and milk flows, easing the pressure while sending bolts of pleasure straight to my pussy. I can feel myself getting wetter, slick pooling beneath me as he worships my breasts with single-minded devotion.
"Fuck, yes," I gasp, my back arching off the bed. "Suck my tits. They're so fucking sensitive."
He groans against my skin, the vibration making me writhe beneath him. When he switches to my other breast, I think I might actually come just from this. The combination of relief and pleasure is overwhelming, and I can feel my first orgasm building just from having my nipples sucked.
But then he's moving lower, kissing his way down my stomach with torturous slowness. I know where he's going and I need it so badly I'm shaking.
"Please," I beg when he reaches my thighs. "Please put your mouth on my pussy."
He spreads my legs wide and just breathes me in for a moment, and the look on his face is pure starvation.
"You smell incredible," he says, his voice thick with lust. "Like home."
When his tongue finally touches my clit, I scream so loud the windows rattle.
It's too much and not enough and perfect and I need more. His tongue works me with devastating skill, licking and sucking until I'm thrashing beneath him, my hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer because I need more pressure, more contact, more everything.
"That's it," he murmurs against my pussy. "Come on my tongue, sweetheart. Let me taste how much you missed me."
The words push me over the edge. My orgasm crashes through me like a tidal wave, my pussy clenching around nothing while pleasure burns through every nerve ending. Flowers bloom throughout the chamber in response to my climax, but I barely notice because I'm still flying apart in his hands.
But even as the aftershocks fade, I know it's not enough. My heat is stronger than ever, demanding the one thing that will truly satisfy it.
"Inside me," I beg as he kisses his way back up my body. "I need your cock inside my pussy. Now."
His massive prehensile cock nudges against my entrance, and we both freeze at the sensation. Even slick and desperate, the size difference between us requires careful preparation. He's going to stretch my cunt to its limits, fill me so completely that I'll feel him for days afterward.
"Ready?" he asks, positioning the thick head of his cock at my entrance with infinite care.
"So ready." I wrap my legs around his narrow waist, trying to pull him deeper. "Please don't make me wait anymore."
The first inch steals my breath. The ridged head of his cock stretches my pussy wider than anything human anatomy could manage, but my enhanced omega biology opens for him eagerly. The burn of the stretch mingles with relief so intense it brings tears to my eyes.
"That's it," he encourages, holding perfectly still while my cunt adjusts. "Take your time. Let your pussy open for me."
Another inch, then another, the prehensile tip beginning to curve and explore my inner walls with intelligent precision.
The flexible length moves inside me like it's alive, seeking out sensitive spots and stroking them with deliberate care.
The sensation is overwhelming—not just the physical stretch, but the way his cock seems to know exactly where to touch me.
"Your cock feels perfect," I gasp as he slowly fills me completely, the prehensile tip curving to stroke my cervix while the ridged shaft massages every inch of my inner walls. "Like it was made for my pussy."
"It was," he replies, his voice rough with emotion as he bottoms out inside me. "Every inch designed to claim you, to pleasure you, to fill you exactly the way you need."