54. Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Four
Shade
"That’s my good boy," I murmur.
Blaze makes a low, broken sound against my mouth and leans into me like praise is the only thing keeping him upright. His hands are everywhere, greedy and restless, trying to take more than I’m ready to give him.
I catch his wrists before he can lose himself completely.
He freezes.
That’s the first good sign. Blaze in this state does not stop easily.
I ran into him while leaving our Pack den to visit the comms office and get an update from the night shift on Viper’s refugee extraction mission.
Blaze is back from his three-day solo infiltration information-gathering mission, and I know something is wrong the instant I see him.
His pale eyes are glowing intensely, and violence is humming under his skin with nowhere safe to go.
In the bond, he is a storm of heat, adrenaline, and raw, reckless hunger.
We're in the narrow corridor between Knox’s office and our den, but some part of him is still out there in the dark, waiting for the enemy's next move.
So I tighten my grip on his wrists and lower my voice.
"Look at me, baby boy."
His breath catches.
I feel the command land. It's not an Alpha or an Omega Command, and I'm still just a Beta, but it doesn't matter because our connection to each other is more powerful. He responds because we’ve spent years trusting each other with our lives, even when everyone else kept their distance from Scorch Squad. Blaze chooses to follow my instructions because he knows I’ll stop him before he hurts himself or anyone else, and that I’ll never use his vulnerability against him.
His gaze locks on mine, wild and unfocused around the edges.
"There you are," I say softly.
I need to give him a task, something he wants to do more than he wants to maim or kill.
"Take my cock out of my trousers."
His pupils expand so fast I have to fight not to smile victoriously. Without fail, no matter what state he is in, Blaze cannot resist wanting to be my good little boy.
"Hold it firm. Yeah, just like that. Now take out your cock too."
His breathing changes, slowing unconsciously to match mine as he loses himself in the feel of my cock in his hand.
"Uh huh, there you go. Now, you know what to do, don't you? You know how to make Daddy feel good."
He knows exactly how I like it.
His hard cock throbs against mine as he tightens his grip around both our cocks, pressing them together in his big Alpha hand. The calluses on his palm are rough, but I like the added stimulation. His thumb catches on my sensitive head with every downstroke, exactly how I taught him.
"That's it, nice and steady. Keep it tight. You're making Daddy feel so good, baby boy," I murmur.
A shudder runs through him, and he drops his forehead to mine while the bond gives a hard pulse of relief.
This gives him hands on his body, rules to follow, and a voice he trusts more than the noise in his head. Someone has to take responsibility before his violent impulses begin making his decisions.
That someone is me.
It has to be me.
He would listen to Halley if I called her. He would kneel for her in a heartbeat, desperate and devoted, because our Omega could ask him to walk into fire and he’d only complain that the flames were making her cheeks flushed.
But Halley is finally asleep in the nest. She hasn't been sleeping well, and it took me a full hour of lightly brushing her hair to get her to fall asleep. I won’t drag her into this unless there is no other option, but that's fine, because I know my Blaze, and I still have a few tricks up my sleeve to bring him back to reality.
Option one would be sending him back into the field until he burned through the manic edge.
I dismissed that before the thought had even finished forming.
Blaze alone, unstable, and armed is how you create cautionary tales.
I love this Alpha too much to set him loose when he can't put the brakes on his own impulses. He might not come back to us alive.
Option two would be taking him to the training grounds, which is also a terrible idea. He doesn't spar when he's like this. He hunts, and Blackgate’s soldiers have earned a quiet night without being volunteered as chew toys.
Option three would be Everlyn and a sedative.
My stomach twists at the thought. He hates being drugged and then waking up with his body heavy and gaps in his memory. I would do it if I had to, because keeping him alive matters more than his pride, but I won’t make that choice until I’ve run out of better ones.
So I choose option four.
I give him structure, and I give him me.
His free hand twists in my shirt, buttons popping as he tries to drag me even closer.
"None of that. Put your hand on the wall," I tell him.
A slap echoes as Blaze quickly complies, his free palm impacting the stone by my head. He looms over me with all that big, dangerous Alpha strength. To anyone else, it would look like he has me trapped in a vulnerable position, but he doesn’t. I'm the one in control here.
He knows it.
I know it.
The bond hums with knowing, too.
"That’s it," I murmur, brushing my thumb along the underside of his jaw in time with his steady strokes over our cocks. "You’re going to hold yourself right there for Daddy. You’re going to breathe when I tell you to breathe, jack off my cock when I tell you to, answer when I ask you a question, and keep those hands exactly where I put them.
One on our cocks, and the other on the wall. "
His throat works.
I slide my hand to the back of his neck and squeeze with steady, firm pressure so it makes him feel held. "This okay for you, Blaze?"
"Yeah," he says immediately, then swallows.
I lift one brow.
"Yes, Daddy," he corrects.
I say the magic words again. "Good boy."
More pre-come dribbles out of his slit and over his knuckles.
His shoulders have dropped half an inch, and he refocuses on keeping the speed and pressure exactly as he knows I like, desperate to please.
I use my hold on the back of his neck to drag him down so I can brush my mouth against his, slow and controlled, giving him contact without letting him chase it.
He tries anyway, because Blaze has never met a limit he didn’t want to lick, bite, or blow up.
I squeeze his neck and pull him back before he can turn violent.
He makes a frustrated sound, his fist tightening momentarily, making my cock ache.
I squeeze my hand harder. I have to be firm with him both verbally and physically. Otherwise, he'll go for a weakness like a wild dog hunting prey. "You don’t take tonight. You receive what I give you. Do you understand me?"
His breath shakes.
"Yes, Daddy."
His fist relaxes, although the ache in my cock doesn't lessen. I force myself not to indulge in the pleasure of his touch, because tonight isn't about me. It's about him.
I smile against his mouth. "That’s better. See? Feral mutts are capable of learning."
He trembles again as the vein along his shaft pulses faster, but the tension on his side of the bond begins to ease. The wildness is still there, but now he's fixated on following my instructions, controlling his hands, and pleasing me.
"Mmm, feels good," I let myself utter. I don't hold back any words of encouragement when we're like this, because Blaze is a void; eternally hungry for validation.
Forming our Pack hasn’t fixed Blaze, because Blaze is not fixable.
Loving us, loving Halley, has given him more access to his softer side, the part of him that aches for touch, praise, and connection with a need that never seems to ease, but it hasn’t erased the rest.
That darkness will never go away because it’s part of him.
Blaze is fractured in ways our love cannot mend cleanly. His childhood broke pieces of him, then his adolescence as an assassin broke more, and his adulthood spent in war finished him off.
After missions, especially bloody ones, he comes home half-mad with it, craving pain, impact, affection, anything intense enough to match the chaos in his head.
It can take days for him to reorganize the maelstrom in his mind.
When he finally crawls into the nest, sometimes there are fresh white scars carved into his skin, and it hurts me to my soul to see them, but I understand. They help him come back to us.
The people of the fortress don't approach him. They're smart enough to keep their distance, but sometimes they get caught in the crosshairs. Just last week, he stabbed an Alpha through the shoulder for taking too long in the food line.
That is Blaze.
Loved, cherished, wanted, and still profoundly unhinged.
I press him back with a palm against his chest, and he lets me.
"Go to our Pack den," I say quietly.
Blaze hesitates for half a breath.
I keep my hand against his chest and hold his gaze. "That wasn’t a suggestion, baby boy."
His throat works. Then he nods.
"Yes, Daddy."
The words come out rough, but obedience follows them.
He releases his grip on our cocks, his hand glistening with our combined pre-come and my spit, turns, and walks the rest of the way down the corridor.
It’s a mercy our quarters are close, because neither of us is prepared to be seen by the general population of Blackgate right now.
Blaze's cock is still hard and aching, hanging out of his open trousers, and I'm not in a much better state.
When he reaches for the door handle, I catch his wrist before he can shove it open.
He freezes instantly.
I lift one finger to my lips. "Quiet. We don’t wake Halley."
At the mention of Halley, his eyes widen, and his hand pulls away from the door. Even like this, he remembers that protecting our Omega comes before everything else.
Always.
He nods, slower this time, then turns the knob with careful control. The old latch barely clicks, but the floorboards still creak under our weight as we slip into the living space, and Blaze scowls like he’s personally offended the wood is trying to wake up his precious Sparkles.
I toe off my boots, then point to his.