Chapter 12
Sylvan
Five days.
I haven’t eaten for two of them.
I’m sick. I’ve made her food and water and I’ve pushed them inside her room, but she hasn’t moved. The food has piled up.
I’m scared she’s dead, but I still hear her heart beating. Her heartbeat is the only thing keeping me alive.
It’s been five days since the full moon. I don’t remember my rut. I’m not even sure if I shifted, because every waking thought has been consumed by her.
Her pain, her suffering, her heat.
I’m the worst bodyguard in the world. Even more, I’m the worst alpha too.
My back is against her bedroom door. Her scent is still potent, refusing to fade. I’ve texted Catriona, but she and her mates have all said the same thing.
Go to her.
But Morgan told me to leave.
She hasn’t spoken to me again. I feel every ounce of her suffering in my bones, and the only reason I haven’t broken down her door again is because I know what kind of wolf that would make me. I asked for her consent. I asked if she wanted help, and she told me to leave.
It’s wrong. I’m supposed to be there with her.
What kind of wolf am I?
A bad one.
Morgan deserves someone better than me. She deserves someone that will be able to not only protect her, but care for her too.
I’ve never let myself get close to someone, and my wolf has always been uninterested in sex.
The couple people I’ve brought to orgasm, I pleasured them and then left.
I’ve never let someone touch me or please me, and I’ve certainly never knotted someone before.
She’s awoken a deep hunger in me. A hunger for touch. For kissing, for licking, for knotting. I’ve never been with an omega, especially during their heat, but I want it to be Morgan. I need it to be with her. No one else will satiate me or my wolf.
Fuck. Part of me regrets being so reserved for so long. If I had some experience, I’d know how to handle this situation better. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so desperate.
But I know what she needs. I just can’t give it all to her. I can give her sex and relieve this heat, but I can’t give her love. I can’t be her mate.
I’m not supposed to have a mate. I still refuse to believe that she is the one.
My chest burns. I close my eyes for a moment, knowing that once I cross this line, there’s no going back.
But there’s something broken here, and for five days, I’ve suffered with her.
I’ve felt her fever and her pain and the aching in her body.
She’s already been through enough, I can’t stand the thought of not going to her any longer.
I may not be able to truly take her as my mate, but I can at least help ease this burden.
With a grunt, I stand and close my hand around the doorknob.
“I’m coming in.”
My voice is deep and hoarse. It sounds monstrous and hungry, because I am monstrous and hungry.
I open the door and step inside. A sharp inhale of her scent, and I feel more sick. I’ve failed her. I’ve hurt her.
At the center of the room is a pile of blankets that have been arranged in a very specific way.
It’s how she likes it, and I take a moment to note the way she has things piled together.
Morgan is curled up in the middle of her nest, and I can see the sweat on her forehead.
Her cheeks are flushed and she’s panting.
She’s in pain.
I drop to my knees and crawl to her. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m sorry, Morgan. I’m so sorry.”
She doesn’t stir as I tear my clothes off, hating myself. Loathing what I am and that I could have done this days ago. My body feels empty until I reach her nest, something stirring in my chest the moment my palm brushes her ankle.
Morgan’s eyes fly open. She lifts her head, and I expect her to yell at me. I expect her to tell me I’m awful and she hates me and that everything is my fault, because goddess, it is.
But she whimpers.
“Please,” I beg. I’ve never begged before, but I can’t stop myself. “Please let me help you.”
“I want you,” she whispers. “But you don’t want me. I will never make you do something you don’t want.”
“I do want you,” I rasp. I haven’t moved a muscle, but my hand is still clasped around her ankle. “You think I don’t want you?”
“You hate me. And you should hate me.”
“And you hate me.”
Morgan swallows slowly, her eyes drifting shut. “I feel like I’m dying.”
“Then let me help you.”
“Okay. This means nothing, though. You’re not my mate.”
My wolf snorts. I pay that part of me no mind, focusing entirely on her. “Can I touch you?”
“Yes.”
“Can . . . can I take you?”
“Take me?” she snorts halfheartedly. “Do you mean fuck me?”
“Yes,” I say.
“Then yes. You can. Please.”
Her chest rises and falls with shallow breaths as I crawl further into the nest. I slide my palm up her calf and thigh and hip. Her skin is sticky and soft, slicked with sweat. She needs me. I run my hand all the way up her body until I reach her face, kneeling my forehead to hers.
“I want you even when we’re not like this,” I whisper.
“When we aren’t monsters.”
I smile. “I’m always a monster.”
Morgan’s body is hot. Too hot. Her temperature isn’t right. She hasn’t had enough food or water. As much as I want to break this heat now, I’m worried she’s too weak.
Admittedly, I’m also nervous to touch her.
“Sylvan,” she murmurs. Her hand slides against my chest, her palm settling over my heart. “I’m stronger than I look.”
“If I hurt you, it hurts me.”
“Sorry.” Her eyes open and close sleepily. “If I die, I’ll make sure to use my last words to change that.”
A growl rumbles in my chest. “You’re not going to die. But you are going to drink water and eat something before I knot you.”
“Knot me.” The corner of her mouth tugs. “Don’t make it sound like a chore.”
“It’s no chore.” It’s the furthest thing from that. How do I even explain to her what this means to me? That to touch her is to break the pact I’ve had with myself for years?
She assumes I think so little of her, and I’m starting to hate that. I’ve hurt her feelings so many times, and yet . . . It’s inevitable. I may be finally giving into our needs, but I cannot ever take a mate.
“Have you been with a werewolf before?” I start to leave the nest, but her hand clamps down on my wrist with an amount of force that shocks me.
“Don’t leave me.” Her voice is small. Panicked.
“I’m not leaving you,” I murmur. I smooth my hand over her blue hair and attempt to gently pry my wrist free. Her grip is like iron.
No, I’ve never been with an omega in heat.
But now, things are different.
I’m about to change everything I’ve known for years because of Morgan.
I can do this.
I lean over and grab a glass of water and a granola bar I’m pretty sure I tossed in the room three days ago.
After this, I’ll take better care of her. This sort of panic can’t happen again, for both of our sakes. If that means we have to be together on the full moon every month, then so be it. I’ll accept that fate.
I’ll never take a mate. I can’t risk losing someone I love again. But this is Morgan. Everything is so complicated with our arrangement and the curse and . . .
None of that matters right now.
“Drink,” I demand. “Eat.”
I watch her every movement, ensuring she does both. Some of the panic in my chest eases, just enough for me to notice the way my cock is already responding to her. Her berry and violet scent is on everything but me in this room, and I need that to change the moment she’s fueled herself.
Everything I know about omega heats comes from what I’ve read or heard from other people. There is a bit of truth to our situation that I refuse to consider right now, which is that she would not have been in heat this long if . . .
I cannot take a mate, I remind myself.
“Last chance,” she says as she finishes her water. Her eyes are glassy, and I think she might be a little angry with me. “You can leave. You can call a doctor and they can hospitalize me. It’ll take time, but eventually the heat will go away.”
“No.” That’s not happening. “I’m sorry, but you cannot send me away this time. I need you as bad as you need me. For every moment you’ve suffered, I’ve suffered with you. I feel your pain, Morgan.”
Her eyes widen, but then she looks away. “Fine. Fuck me.”
A growl rolls from my chest and suddenly I’m on top of her. She yelps as I cup her face, forcing her to look at me again. “Don’t say it like it’s a chore,” I bite out, mimicking her earlier snide remark.
When she smiles, it eases some of my worry. “Just don’t give me a mating bite, wolf.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Pain echoes in my chest, and I know my words hurt her. Fuck. When will I stop causing her pain?
I draw in a deep breath and hold her gaze as I lower my mouth to hers. I nip her pouty bottom lip, and smile when she gasps.
“Fuck you,” she snarls. “What are you going to—”
I crush her mouth against mine, swallowing every curse, every hateful word. I like it when she tells me to fuck off. It turns me on. There’s something about the bite in them that makes my cock so fucking hard.
For months, I’ve been denying myself this.
My tongue swipes against hers and she moans into my mouth, her fingers knotting into my hair.
She’s desperate and needy, and I’m ready to do anything to please her.
My cock is so hard, my hips start to rock, humping in desperation. I need to get control over myself.
Morgan gasps as I trail kisses down her chest, tasting the salt on her skin. With a growl, I rip the pajama top she’s wearing in half, revealing her breasts.
I’ve never seen breasts as beautiful as hers. I drink in the fullness of them and how her nipples are stiff peaks and the blush across her chest. Mine. All mine.
“Sylvan,” she snaps. “Damn it—oh, fuck.”