3. Lily
Lily
I nearly trip over the rug as I stumble into my room.
The day’s weight crushes my shoulders, and my hands shake as I lock the door—once, twice, three times. Just to be sure.
I kick off my shoes and sink onto the bed. An ache throbs at the base of my skull, and the promise of hot water on my skin is the only thing keeping me from curling into a ball and letting exhaustion win.
***
Steam rises as my clothes hit the floor. I step into the shower, letting scalding water cascade over my shoulders. For a moment, I just stand there, eyes closed, trying to lose myself in the heat and pressure.
Focus, I tell myself. But my mind floods with this morning’s chaos: the screech of taxi brakes as I hurled my bag inside, my heart threatening to explode as I ran.
My ex.
The word makes bile rise in my throat. This morning, he was so sure of himself, so convinced I’d never leave. You’re overreacting. I’m just trying to protect you. You need me.
The memory hits like a gut punch—him blocking the doorway, arms spread wide, his eyes red with fury. Me, terror closing my throat as I realized how trapped I was.
He’d always been controlling, but these past months…
every conversation became a demand. Then he started talking about claiming me—making me his—and something inside me finally snapped.
The thought of being bound to him forever made my skin crawl.
When I said no, the mask slipped. The insults started flying. I told him I was done.
Maybe it’s my fault, a voice whispers. Did I lead him on? Why didn’t I see the signs sooner? Tears mix with shower spray, hot and bitter.
But I remember his fingers digging into my wrist, that surge of panic when I realized he wouldn’t let go. The slap that stunned him, buying those precious seconds to dart past him, clutching my bag like a shield.
“Fuck him,” I mutter, the words lost in the steam.
One day. Not even twenty-four hours since I fled. Fuck, I should have done it weeks ago.
I press my forehead against the shower wall, lost in thoughts: Raphael’s infuriating smirk. Alaric’s knowing eyes seeing straight through me. Leo’s gentleness and playful smile…
Heat pools low in my belly. My nipples tighten, and there’s a telltale slick on my thighs that has nothing to do with the shower.
Am I going into Heat already? I flatten my palms against the wall, willing my body to behave.
It doesn’t matter. I’m not letting anyone in. I can’t.
Water traces paths down my arms, and for a moment, the warmth almost drowns out the fear.
Then my eyes catch on his silver bracelet. You need me. You’re nothing without me. Rage surges through me, hot and clean. I rip it off, letting it clatter against the tiles.
“I’m here now,” I growl. “And there’s nothing he can do about it.” Tomorrow, I’ll sell that damn thing.
***
I collapse onto the mattress, hoping exhaustion will drag me under, but sleep refuses to come.
I squeeze my eyes shut, but my mind floods with unwanted images. Raphael’s raw dominance. Alaric’s controlled power. Leo’s gentle strength.
A shaky breath escapes as my body betrays me, heat building low in my belly, impossible to ignore.
I shift under the blankets, trying to push it away. Not the time. Not the place. But the thoughts keep intruding, and the ache between my thighs grows impossible to deny. My fingers drift lower almost of their own accord, and I catch my breath.
This is ridiculous, I scold myself, but my body’s already humming, desperate for release.
I imagine Raphael’s powerful hands spreading me open, Alaric’s deep voice compelling me to beg for his cock, Leo’s tongue dragging me to the edge until I shatter.
The need sharpens, a fire licking through my veins.
My fingers move faster, matching the desperate rhythm of my racing heart, the sound of it pounding so loud I’m worried someone can hear it from outside.
I bite my lip to stay quiet. I’m wet, dripping, my body burning up from the inside. A gasp escapes as I picture being pinned down.
My fingers stroke with desperate intent, pressure building. I shouldn’t want this—I just ran from an Alpha; I’m not ready—but my mind spins scenes of being filled and cherished in ways that make my inner Omega whimper.
My breath stutters, muscles tensing, and pleasure crashes through me like a tidal wave. I muffle my scream in the pillow, hips bucking. The orgasm rips through me, hot, wild and desperate.
Reality creeps back slowly, leaving me trembling in the dark, my hand sticky between my thighs and my sheets soaked. I roll onto my back, pulse still racing.
What the hell is wrong with me? One day here, and I’m already fantasizing about three Alphas I barely know.
At least exhaustion finally claims me, dragging me under in a haze of aftershocks and shame.