55. Lachlan
Chapter Fifty-Five
Lachlan
Her scent is everywhere. Sweet. Warm. Wild. Intoxicating. Heat. Her first heat. And she's chosen us. Chosen me. I can feel the way her body responds, the way she shifts against me, the way her breathing changes. Shallow. Needy.
My purr deepens. Steady. Grounding. She needs that right now.
Needs something to anchor her while her body takes over—not because surrender is dangerous, but because it's new.
Because she's spent her whole life holding everything together alone.
Here, with us, she doesn't have to. I slide my hand down her side.
Slow. Deliberate. Her skin is so soft. Warm.
Flushed. I can feel the heat radiating off her, the way her body is calling for relief.
For connection. For us. And she can let go because we're here.
Because we see her. Because we'll catch her when she falls and help her find her way back to herself.
"Lachlan," she breathes. She says my name like it’s sacred, something holy.
"I'm right here, sweet girl," I murmur, my lips brushing against her temple. "I've got you."
Jonas is beside her, his hand in her hair. He meets my eyes, a silent question. I nod. He leans down, presses a kiss to her shoulder, then another to her neck. She sighs, melting between us.
On the other side of the nest, I hear Adrian and Finn.
Quiet sounds. Soft murmurs. The rustle of fabric.
They're giving her what she needs, presence without pressure, intimacy without demand.
All of us here. All of us are a part of this.
My hand slides lower, over her hip, back down her thigh. She whimpers. Soft. Needy.
"Tell me what you need.”
She shakes her head. "I don't…I don't know."
"Yes, you do," I murmur, my hand sliding back up, brushing across her stomach. "Your body knows. Let it tell you."
She exhales shakily. "I need…" Her voice breaks.
"Say it," I encourage softly.
"You," she whispers. "I need you."
Something settles deep in my bones—not from desire, but from something deeper. Trust. Complete. Absolute. "You have me," I say, my hand sliding between her thighs. "You've always had me."
She gasps, her hips lifting slightly. I can feel how ready she is, how much her body needs this.
But I move slowly. Carefully. Because this isn't just about heat.
This is about her. About showing her what safe feels like.
My fingers move gently, exploring, learning.
She's so responsive—every touch makes her gasp, every movement makes her arch.
Jonas's hand tightens in her hair, keeping her still. "That's it," he murmurs. "Let him take care of you."
I press deeper. Slow circles. Steady pressure. Her breathing quickens, her hands clutching at the blankets. "Lachlan…"
"I know," I murmur. "I know, sweet girl."
My purr intensifies, vibrating through my chest. Through her.
She whimpers, her body trembling. "Please…"
"What do you need?" I ask softly.
"More," she breathes. "I need…I need more."
I move down, positioning myself between her thighs. Jonas shifts alongside us, releasing her hair and moving his mouth from her shoulder to her neck, his lips finding the sensitive skin there. He stays close, his presence steady and supportive as I settle into place.
"Look at me," I say quietly.
Her eyes flutter open. Hazy. Desperate. But trusting.
"I'm going to take care of you," I murmur. "But you tell me if it's too much. Okay?"
She nods. "Okay." I lean down, press a kiss to her forehead, then her lips. Slow. Careful. When I pull back, I inch myself forward, pressing forward—slow, so slow. Careful. Deliberate.
Even with the extra caution, she gasps, her hands flying to my shoulders.
I stop. "You okay?"
"Yes," she breathes. "Don't stop."
I press deeper, inch by inch, watching her face, reading every change in expression. Her eyes widen. Her breath catches.
"Breathe," I murmur. "Just breathe, sweet girl."
She does. It’s shaky and uneven, but she does.
I keep moving. Slow. Steady. Until I'm fully seated. Until she's taken all of me. Her eyes are wide. Overwhelmed. But not afraid.
"You're doing so good," I murmur, my hand cupping her face. "So perfect."
Jonas presses a kiss to her temple. "You're safe," he whispers.
I start to move. Slow. Controlled. Every thrust deliberate, every movement measured. Because this isn't about me. This is about her. About showing her what her body can feel. What pleasure can be when it's safe. When it's chosen.
She whimpers, her hips lifting to meet mine. "That's it," I murmur. "Take what you need." Her hands slide up my back, clutching, grounding herself. Behind us, I can hear Adrian and Finn—their presence steady, their voices soft.
"You're perfect," Adrian murmurs, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. "We've got you."
"You're so brave," Finn whispers, his fingers brushing her hair back from her face. "We're right here. All of us."
My purr deepens, vibrating through the both of us.
She gasps, her body tightening around me. "Lachlan…"
"I know," I murmur. "Let go. I've got you." I move, changing the angle and she cries out, her back arching. Jonas's hand tightens in her hair, steadying her. I keep moving, relentless, watching her face, reading every response. Her breathing quickens. Her body trembles.
"That's it," I murmur. "You're so close.
" My hand slides between us, finding the spot that makes her gasp.
And she falls apart, her body tightening, her cry sharp and unguarded.
I keep moving through her pleasure, drawing it out, making it last, until she's shaking, gasping, completely undone.
And then I feel it, the shift. My body responding to hers. To her heat. To her need.
My knot begins to swell.
She gasps, her eyes widening. "Lachlan…what…"
"Shh," I murmur, my hand cupping her face. "It's okay. It's natural. Your body needs this."
"It feels…" She can't finish, her breath catching as the pressure builds.
"I know," I say softly. "Just breathe. Let your body adjust." The knot swells larger, stretching her, filling her completely.
She whimpers, her hips lifting higher, her hands gripping tighter at my shoulders.
Her face flushes, her breathing ragged, but her eyes stay locked on mine—not with fear, but with intensity.
Her body continues to move into me, seeking, responding, drawing me deeper.
The overwhelming fullness, the pressure, the way it locks us together—it's written across every line of her face, every tremor of her frame.
"Too much?" I ask, watching her face carefully.
She shakes her head. "No. It's intense. But not bad."
"Good girl," I murmur. "Just a little more.
" My knot swells to its full size, locking into place, binding us together completely.
She cries out again and throws her head back into Jonas.
Her body clenches around me, around the knot.
The sensation is overwhelming for both of us.
I can feel everything, every flutter, every clench, every response.
And she can feel me, locked inside her, unable to pull away.
Completely vulnerable. Completely connected.
"Lachlan," she breathes, her hands clutching at my shoulders. "I can't."
"I know," I murmur. "We're locked together. It's okay. It's what your body needs during heat."
"How long?" she asks, her voice shaky.
"However long it takes," I say softly. "Could be minutes. Could be longer. But I'm not going anywhere."
She exhales shakily, then nods. Trusting. Always trusting.
I shift slightly, just enough to ease some of the pressure. She gasps as the knot presses against something inside her that makes her entire body shudder. "Oh," she breathes. "Oh…"
"Does that feel good?" I ask.
"Yes," she gasps. "Yes. Don't move." But I do. Just slightly. Rocking against her, the knot pressing, stimulating her sweet spot. She cries out, her body clenching around me, around the knot. The sensation is almost too much. "Again," she begs. "Please. Again."
I rock against her—slow, deliberate, the knot pressing deep, hitting that spot inside her that I know makes her see stars. She's shaking. Gasping. Completely overwhelmed.
"That's it," I murmur. "Let it happen. I've got you."
She breaks again, harder this time, her body clenching so tight around the knot it's almost painful. But perfect. So perfect.
And then I know. This is the moment. The choice. She's mine, completely, permanently. And I want her to wear my mark. Want everyone to know she's chosen. Protected. Loved. My teeth graze her skin, just above her pulse. She gasps softly. Not afraid. Anticipating.
"Mine," I breathe against her neck.
"Yours," she whispers back.
Then I bite down. Not too hard, but hard enough to break the skin, enough to claim her, enough to tie us together in a way that goes beyond the physical. She cries out, sharp, breathless, her body arching into mine, her hands clutching at my shoulders.
And then the bond. It doesn't just snap into place.
It floods through us, through our DNA, like a dam breaking.
I feel her. Everything. Her trust. Her safety.
Her love. Her relief. Her joy. Her fear.
Her hope. All of it pours into me, through me, becoming part of me.
And she feels me, my steadiness, my protection, my devotion, my love.
So much love. All of it flows into her, wraps around her, anchors her.
The bond is tangible. Physical, like a thread of light connecting us, tying us together. I can feel it in my chest, warm, solid, and real. Her emotions are mine now. And mine are hers. We're not separate anymore. We're connected. Bound. Pack.
I release the bite slowly. Carefully. Blood wells at the mark, small, perfect. I press my lips to the wound—gentle, cherishing, tasting her. Salt and copper and sweetness.
She bites into the other side of my neck, the one not already claimed by Finn, her teeth breaking skin, marking me, claiming me back.
The bond intensifies. Deepens. Becomes something more.
Something permanent. I can feel her through it, her presence in my mind, in my heart, in my soul.
She's there. Always there. And I'm in hers.
"Lachlan," she breathes against my neck, her voice shaking. Overwhelmed.
"I know," I murmur. "I feel it too."
"It's…it's so much."
"I know, baby girl. But you're okay. We're okay."
She pulls back a bit, just enough to look at me. Her eyes are wide. Wet. Overwhelmed. But not afraid.
"I can feel you," she whispers. "Inside me. Not just…not just physically. I can feel you. Your emotions. Your…everything."
"And I can feel you," I say softly, my hand cupping her face. "All of you. And you're perfect."
She shivers, a tear sliding down her cheek. I brush it away with my thumb.
"Don't cry," I murmur.
"I'm not sad," she says quickly. "I'm just…overwhelmed. In a good way."
"You're mine now," I murmur against her skin. "Completely."
She shivers, her fingers tightening at my shoulders. "Yours," she whispers back.
I kiss the mark again, then her jaw, then her lips. Soft. Claiming. We're still locked together, the knot still swollen, still binding us. We can't separate, even if we wanted to. Completely connected. And it's perfect.
Jonas's hand is still in her hair, his lips still on her shoulder. He's watching us, watching the mark, the bond. There's something in his expression. Pride. Satisfaction. Joy. "She's pack now," he murmurs. "Truly."
"Yeah," I say softly, my hand sliding down to rest on her hip. "She is."
Kaia turns her head slightly, looking at Jonas, then back at me. Her eyes are still hazy. Still overwhelmed. But certain. "I'm yours," she whispers. "All of yours."
"And we're yours," I say. "Always." The knot begins to soften, slowly, gradually, the pressure easing. But I don't pull away. Not yet. I stay close—connected. Because she needs this. The closeness. The safety. The proof that I'm not going anywhere.
When the knot finally releases, I shift carefully. Gently. She winces when I pull out. Sensitive. Overwhelmed.
I press a kiss to her forehead. "You did so good, sweet girl. So perfect."
She smiles, tired, sated, happy. And through the bond, I can feel it. Her complete contentment. Her peace. Her love.
She's mine. Completely. Permanently.