Chapter Eight #2
Salem toasted me with his coffee. “To dangerous mornings and even more dangerous omegas.”
I laughed as I took my first bite, completely and shamelessly adored.
And maybe just a little bit smug.
Ravik
September 15th
7:34 P.M
I turned the corner into the living room, and there she was, curled up in the far corner of the couch, knees tucked beneath her, a sketchpad balanced delicately on her lap.
The late afternoon sun poured through the tall windows, gilding everything it touched, but it was her the light seemed to worship.
She wore one of her favorite pencil skirts, the slate-gray fabric hugging the curves of her hips like it had been made just for her.
A soft, silky green blouse shimmered faintly in the light, glowing like fresh spring leaves against her sun-kissed skin.
Her hair spilled in gentle waves around her shoulders, catching flecks of gold as she tilted her head toward the sun.
She wasn’t sketching. Not in that moment.
Instead, she stared out the window, her eyes slightly unfocused, like she was caught in a dream only she could see.
Then she closed them, slowly, almost reverently, and the sun kissed her face.
The light wrapped around her like a halo, and for a second, she didn’t seem real.
She looked like something celestial, an angel who had stumbled into my world and forgotten to leave.
My heart stuttered. Gods, she was mine. Mine to touch. Mine to hold. And maybe, at some point, mine to love. The thought filled me with quiet awe and something close to fear. The good kind. The kind that whispered: this matters.
I shifted the small box behind my back, the simple courting gift I’d picked up for her earlier, my fingers tightening around it. What if she didn’t like it? What if it wasn’t enough?
“Hey, O,” I said, my voice rougher than I meant it to be. Even soft, it came out with that gravelly rasp.
She turned, her eyes locking on mine, and just like that, the rest of the world faded. Her whole face lit up, and her smile bloomed wide and bright. Something inside my chest cracked wide open.
“Hey, Rav,” she said, patting the cushion beside her.
Like I could ever say no to my omega.
I crossed the room, pulling the small box from behind my back as I sat down beside her. “I got you something,” I murmured. “A gift.”
Her eyes widened with delight as she immediately held out her hands, fingers wiggling. “I love gifts. And I already love this one because it’s from you!”
Her words hit me dead center, like she’d just knocked the air out of my lungs in the best way. I let out a laugh, rough and real. She looked at me like I hung the damn stars.
“You look so handsome when you laugh,” she said, soft and sincere.
I blushed. Actually blushed. What the hell was happening to me?
“Open it,” I muttered, suddenly awkward.
But she just grinned and, with careful hands, lifted the lid. Inside, nestled in a bed of soft black velvet, was a small carved brick of white marble, smooth and cool to the touch. Three runes were etched into the surface in clean, deliberate lines.
Her fingers brushed over them reverently. “These are… strength, inspiration, and protection,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
I blinked. “You… you know the runes?”
She nodded slowly and looked up at me with shining eyes. “Of course I do.”
Before I could say anything else, she set the box aside and climbed into my lap, pressing herself to me in a sudden, fierce hug.
My arms wrapped around her instinctively, anchoring myself to her scent, her warmth, her everything.
Her scent deepened blueberry pancakes laced with something sweeter, and I was already addicted.
She pulled back just slightly, enough to look into my eyes. Her lips hovered inches from mine, her breath brushing my skin, her gaze searching.
I didn’t know who moved first. Maybe it was her. Maybe it was me. Or maybe the moment had its own gravity. But then her lips met mine, soft at first, tentative, testing. She tasted like honeyed tea and something warm and secret.
When her tongue flicked against my lower lip, something inside me snapped.
I groaned and deepened the kiss, cradling the back of her neck as I tilted my head, starving for more.
She shifted in my lap, tugging her skirt up so she could straddle me properly, her knees bracketing my thighs.
The sketchpad slid to the floor, forgotten.
So did the rune. There was only her now, her scent thickening around us as desire bloomed hot and fast.
Her hands slipped under my shirt, fingers dragging up my stomach and chest. I lifted my arms, and she peeled the shirt off with a pleased little sound that made my heart twist. Her fingers moved over me like she was learning something sacred.
When her nails grazed my nipple, I flinched, breath hitching.
“Holy fuck,” I rasped, my voice raw.
She was breathing just as hard, her lips kiss-bitten and parted, eyes dark with want. For a moment, we just stared at each other, hearts pounding in sync.
Then I reached for the hem of her blouse, moving slowly. I paused, asking without words.
She nodded, gaze steady, unafraid.
I pulled the soft green fabric from her frame, revealing smooth skin, gentle curves, and the elegant black lace of her bra. The sight of her stole my breath all over again.
She was everything. Beautiful. Strong. Mine.
And for once, I wasn’t afraid of what that meant.
My fingers traced the swell of her breasts, reverent and unhurried. Her skin was warm beneath my calloused hands, and she watched me with parted lips and flushed cheeks, wide-eyed but full of trust.
“I’ve dreamed of this,” I whispered, brushing my thumb beneath her bra strap. “Of you. Of us.”
A shiver rippled through her as she leaned in to kiss me again, slow and sure, savoring it. Her lips pressed into mine with quiet hunger, tasting like summer and promise. Like home.
I held her close, one hand around her waist, the other cradling her face. She melted into me, fingers threading behind my neck like she never wanted to let go.
“You’re shaking,” I murmured.
“Not scared,” she whispered. “Just… overwhelmed.”
“Overwhelmed?” I asked gently.
She smiled, soft and devastating. “With the thought that you’re mine.”
That was it. That was the moment. I rested my forehead to hers, breathing her in like she was oxygen. “Gods, Omega… you don’t know what you do to me.”
She laughed softly, and it turned into a sigh as my hands trailed down her back. The lace of her bra rubbed against my bare chest—a maddening contrast. I shifted beneath her, adjusting so she settled more firmly in my lap. She gasped at the pressure, heat blooming where our bodies pressed together.
Her hands glided down my chest again, slow and curious, tracing old scars with careful fingers. I flinched, instinctive and unthinking, but she didn’t pull away. Her gaze held mine—steady, sure.
And in that moment, I knew.
I could give her everything—every part of me.
Even the broken ones.
Ravik
September 15th
8:02 P.M
“I won't ask. This is your story to tell when or if you want to tell it.” She murmured
My throat tightened, and for a moment, I couldn’t speak. She didn’t fill the silence with empty words. She just looked at me, really looked at me, like she saw everything I was and still chose to stay.
My hands slid down to her hips, fingers curling into the fabric of her skirt. “Tell me if I go too far,” I murmured, my voice a low rumble.
“You won’t,” she replied without hesitation.
With slow, deliberate movements, I unhooked her bra, letting it fall away between us.
Her breath hitched, but she didn’t shy away.
I didn’t look at her like a man seeing something to take, I looked at her like she was art.
Her body, heart, and mind… are part of the same masterpiece.
And somehow, impossibly, she was letting me touch it.
I leaned in, pressing a kiss to her collarbone, then lower, mapping a trail of soft kisses down the curve of her chest. Her fingers sank into my hair, anchoring herself to the moment. She gasped softly when my mouth found her breast, teasing and gentle, her thighs tightening around my hips.
The air between us grew heavier, thick with the kind of heat that buzzed beneath the skin. She rolled her hips slowly, testing, and my hands tightened on her waist, holding her in place.
“Careful,” I grit out. “I’m hanging on by a thread here.”
Her eyes gleamed with mischief. “Then let go.”
She kissed me again, harder this time, full of need, aching and desperate. I matched her, kiss for kiss, touch for touch. Our bodies moved like they’d known each other forever, like they’d just been waiting for this moment to remember how to fit.
Clothes became obstacles. Her skirt joined my shirt on the floor. I lifted her, turning to lower her gently onto the couch. Her legs wrapped around me instinctively, pulling me closer. Our bare chests pressed together, skin on skin, heart to heart.
Her hands moved with purpose, unfastening the button on my jeans, then slowly dragging the zipper down. Anticipation coiled in the pit of my stomach as she pushed the denim down my hips. I kicked them off completely, baring myself to her gaze.
My cock sprang free, already painfully hard, the tip glistening with need. It throbbed in time with my heartbeat, straining toward her. She let out a soft, shaky breath, her eyes locked on me with something close to reverence.
But I needed her more.
I leaned down and kissed the soft skin just below her navel. She gasped, her fingers threading into my hair as I trailed lower. Her body arched slightly, offering herself to me without fear. Her trust wrecked me.
I nudged her thighs apart, gentle but firm. The lace of her panties clung to her, soaked and glistening with desire. My breath caught as I took her in, flushed, trembling, and utterly stunning. Every inch of her called to something feral inside me.
I lowered myself between her legs and breathed her in. Then I pressed my mouth to her through the damp fabric, dragging my tongue slowly up the length of her. She cried out, her hips jolting up toward my mouth. I smiled against her, drunk on her taste, her scent, the feel of her.
“Gods,” I whispered, easing the lace aside. “Odette…”
I spread her open with my thumbs, revealing all of her, slick, swollen, and pulsing with need. Her slick spilled down her thighs, and I couldn’t wait another second.
I dipped my head and slid my tongue through her folds, slow and deliberate, savoring the way she tasted. Sweet. Addictive. Familiar in a way that made me ache.
A groan rumbled from my chest as I devoured her.
“I knew you’d taste like this,” I murmured against her.
She moaned, breathless. “Like what?”
I glanced up from between her thighs, locking eyes with her. My voice dropped, rough and true.
“Like mine.”