Chapter 15
KELLAN
Iwoke to the sound of her whimpering. Rowan was beside me in the chair we'd dragged into the room, passed out from exhaustion.
We'd been trading off for the past eighteen hours—one of us with her, one of us resting.
Trying to maintain enough stamina to get her through this.
Kira even came up to feed us and sat with Naomi while we showered.
Now we were just waiting for the next wave.
But the sound she was making now wasn't the desperate, pained whimpers from before. This was different. Softer. I moved to the edge of the nest and looked in. She was awake. Lucid. Her eyes clear despite the flush still staining her golden brown skin. Kira had helped her to shower so she smelled fresh though, our scent mingled with hers since we’d been inside her so many times.
And she was staring at me with an intensity that made my breath catch.
"How long have I been here in heat?" she asked, her voice rough from overuse.
"Almost two days."
She closed her eyes. "Feels like longer."
"I know." I climbed into the nest slowly, giving her time to object. She didn't. "How are you feeling?"
"Tender. Exhausted." She opened her eyes again, meeting mine. "Better. The pain isn't as sharp. The need isn't as desperate."
"That's good. It means the heat is starting to ease."
"How much longer do you think?"
"Another day, maybe two. It's hard to predict with breakthrough heats."
She nodded, processing that. Then her gaze traveled over me, taking in my bare chest, the tattoos that covered my torso and arms, the way I was deliberately keeping distance even though every instinct I had was screaming at me to get closer.
"Can I touch you?" She bit the side of her lip. The question came out hesitant. Vulnerable. "Not because the heat demands it. Because I want to."
My heart stuttered. "Yeah. Of course you can."
She shifted in the nest, moving closer until her hands could reach me. Then she did something I didn't expect. She explored.
Her fingers traced the lines of my tattoos, the wolf on my chest, the geometric patterns down my arms, the script along my ribs that she couldn't quite read from this angle.
"What does this one say?" she asked, her fingers following the words.
"'Everything I do, I do for her.'"
"Her who?"
You, I wanted to say. It's always been you. But I couldn't tell her yet. Not while she was still in heat. We’d have that conversation when she was able to focus.
"Someone important," I said instead. "Someone I've been looking for."
Her eyes met mine, searching. "You're looking for someone?"
"We both are. Have been for a long time."
"An Omega?"
"Yeah."
Something flickered across her face. Hurt, maybe, or disappointment, but it was gone too quickly to identify.
"Oh."
"It's not," I stopped myself. This wasn't the time. "It's complicated."
"Most things are. I hope you find her." Her hands continued their exploration, moving across my shoulders, down my biceps. "Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"That night. At the club. Why did you approach me? Really?"
I thought about lying. About giving her some surface answer that would satisfy without revealing too much. But she deserved better than that.
"Because you were different," I said honestly. "Every other woman in that club was performing. Trying to be what they thought we wanted. But you?" I caught her hand, pressing it against my chest where my heart was hammering. "You were just yourself. Uninterested. Unbothered. Real."
"I was terrified."
"But you didn't let that stop you. You walked in, set your boundaries, and demanded we respect them." I smiled. "Do you know how rare that is? How attractive that is?"
"To be difficult?"
"To know what you want and refuse to settle for less." I brought her hand to my mouth, pressing a kiss to her palm. "That's not difficult. That's powerful."
She stared at me for a long moment, her green eyes wide and searching. Then she leaned in and kissed me. Her mouth moved against mine slowly, exploring, learning the shape of me. Her hands slid up into my hair—much longer than Rowan's, pulled back in a ponytail that she carefully released.
"I've wanted to do that since I met you," she murmured against my lips.
"Do what?"
"Let your hair down. See what you look like."
I pulled back enough to let her look. My light brown hair fell past my shoulders, wild and unkempt.
"Better?" I asked.
"Different." Her fingers combed through it, untangling. "But yes. Better."
Another wave of heat was starting to build. I could smell it, could see the way her pupils were beginning to dilate again. But this one was slower. More manageable. The kind she could think through.
"I need you," she said quietly.
"I know."
"But I want to try something." She hesitated. "Can we do it differently this time?"
"How do you want it?"
"Slower. I want to explore you the way you explored me. I want to learn what you like. What makes you tick." She bit her lip. "I want to make you feel good too."
Fuck.
"Naomi. This heat is about you. About taking care of you. You don't need to worry about me."
"I know I don't need to. I want to." Her hand slid down my chest, over my abs, stopping just above the waistband of my pants. "Please. Let me."
How could I say no to that?
"Okay," I said. "But if it gets to be too much, if the heat takes over…"
"Then you take control. Do what you’re so good at. Making me come for you. Care for me. Own me."
Those two words undid me completely. I lay back in the nest, letting her have her way and set the pace. She straddled me slowly, her hands braced on my chest. Even through the thin cotton of my pants, I could feel the heat of her, the slick that was already dripping from her.
"Tell me what you like," she said.
"Everything you do to me, I like."
"That's not specific enough." Her nails scraped lightly down my chest and I hissed. "That?"
"Yeah. That's good."
She did it again, harder this time, leaving red lines in their wake.
"And that?"
"Fuck. Yes."
She smiled her first genuine smile I'd seen from her since this heat started. "Good to know."
Her hands continued their exploration, finding every sensitive spot, every place that made me groan or tense or grab the blankets beneath us. By the time she finally removed my pants, I was already hard enough to hurt. Dripping like she was.
"Can I, Sir?" she asked, her hand hovering.
"Please."
She wrapped her hand around my dick, tentative at first, then more confident as she watched my reaction. Her thumb swiped over the head, gathering the moisture there, and I nearly came apart.
"Sensitive," she observed.
"You have no idea."
She leaned down, her hair creating a curtain around us, and took me into her mouth.
"Thank the Gods, Naomi, you don't have to—"
But she wasn't listening. She was too focused on learning me, on figuring out what made me lose control. Her tongue swirled around the head, then she took me deeper, her throat relaxing to accommodate.
My hands fisted in the blankets. "If you keep doing that, I'm going to come."
"Good." She took me back into her mouth, working me with devastating precision.
I lasted about thirty seconds before I had to pull her off.
"What—" she started.
"Inside you," I managed. "I need to be inside you when I come."
Understanding dawned in her eyes. "Oh."
I flipped our positions, careful with her, and settled between her thighs.
"Ready?" I asked.
"Yes. Please."
I pushed inside slowly, giving her body time to adjust despite the slick that made everything easy. When I was fully seated, we both groaned.
"Move," she breathed. "Please move, Sir."
I did, slowly. This wasn't about racing to the finish. This was about savoring. Each thrust was measured. Controlled. Designed to draw out the pleasure rather than rush toward release.
"Harder," she gasped after a few minutes.
"No."
"What?"
"You wanted slow. You wanted to explore. That's what we're doing." I shifted my angle slightly, hitting that spot inside her that made her eyes roll back. "We're taking our time."
"But the heat—" she interjected.
"The heat can wait." I captured her mouth in a kiss. "Right now, we're doing this my way."
She whimpered but didn't argue. I continued that slow, devastating rhythm. Building pleasure gradually. Letting it spiral higher and higher without ever quite reaching the peak.
"Kellan," she gasped. "You feel so good, Sir. I need–"
"What do you need?"
"More. Faster. Something–"
"Tell me exactly what you need."
"I need—" She struggled to find words through the haze. "I need you to own me."
"You sure about that?"
"Yes. Please."
Permission granted.
I let go of the careful control I'd been maintaining. Let myself feel the full force of what she did to me. My thrusts became harder. Faster. Bordering on viscous. She cried out in relief like this was what she'd been craving all along.
"Yes," she sobbed. "Kellan, don't stop."
I didn't. My hand found her throat, not squeezing, just resting there. A reminder of who was in control now.
"Mine," I growled.
"Yes."
"Say it."
"I'm yours. God, I'm yours. Don't stop. Please don't ever stop."
I felt her starting to clench around me, felt the orgasm building. Trembling spasms that threatened to take us both over.
"Come for me," I commanded. "Now."
She shattered, her whole body going taut as the pleasure tore through her. And I followed her over, my knot swelling and locking us together as I emptied into her. We were breathing hard, trembling with aftershocks.
When I finally found my voice, all I could say was, "Fuck."
She laughed, weak and breathless but genuine. "Yeah. That."
"You okay?"
"Better than okay." She pressed her face into my neck. "That was amazing."
"It was." I stroked her hair.
"Really?"
"Really." I pressed a kiss to her temple. "You're different, Naomi. Everything about you is different."
"Different good or different bad?"
"Different perfect."
She was quiet for a moment. "I'm scared."
"Of what?"
"Of how much I want this. Want you. Both of you." Her voice cracked. "What if this is just the heat? What if when it's over, it’s not like this."
"Then we figure it out," I said firmly. "But Naomi? I don't think this is just the heat. I think the heat just gave you permission to feel what was already there."
"And if I can't handle it and leave?"
"Then we let you go. And we hope you come back."
"You'd really let me go?"
"Your choice matters, always."
She turned her face up to look at me, her eyes swimming with tears. "Thank you. For understanding."
I knew who she meant. The Alpha who'd killed her mother.
"Always, sweetheart." I said fiercely. "You don’t have to run, though. All you have to say is that this isn’t what you want."
She nodded, then settled against my chest as my knot slowly deflated.
And as I held her, I thought about the conversation we'd need to have when this heat was over.
The one where we told her everything. But not yet.
For now, I'd just hold her. And pray that when the truth finally came out, she wouldn't hate us.