Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
DANE
I wake up with a hard-on, my mind on Kayla—her scent, her inner strength, her rare smiles.
Fuck! I shouldn’t be thinking about her like this, not when she’s still learning to trust us. She needs patience and protection, not the primal urges of an Alpha, but it’s so damn difficult when my instinct is to claim her, to show her I can make her climax.
I slip a hand beneath the waistband of my boxer briefs, fingers wrapping around my length. The tension coils tighter with each stroke, a desperate attempt to quell the fire she unknowingly fuels within me. It’s a temporary fix, but it’s something.
Kayla’s face swims behind my closed eyelids—dark blue eyes and full pink lips. My breath comes out in harsh pants as I chase the release, chasing the image of her delicate form and the dark blonde hair that cascades over her shoulders, half-hiding her face.
“Fuck,” I hiss through clenched teeth, the pressure building. With a final, shuddering groan, I come, the waves of pleasure laced with a pang of guilt. I should be stronger than this, disciplined. Jerking off only provides fleeting relief, leaving me with a hollow emptiness that nothing can fill except having her wrapped around me.
It’s only her who can make this right, can soothe this savage need, but she’s not ready… not yet. Until she is, I’ll shoulder this torment, bear the weight of this desire alone. For Kayla, for that hint of something more in her wary gaze, I’ll wait. I’ll fight the very instincts that define me… for her.
Not wanting to waste another day obsessing over her, I drag myself out of the tangled sheets. The shower’s cold spray hits my overheated skin, but it does jack shit to wash away Kayla’s sweet, floral scent that’s burned into my mind and every inch of me. With brisk, mechanical motions, I scrub my skin, trying not to think about touching her, tasting her.
The cool air greets me as I step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist with a tug. Quickly, I dry, eager to see her.
I button up my shirt and thread the belt through the loops of my jeans. Dressing is automatic, a ritual to regain the control that slips when it comes to her. Kayla. Even her name threatens my restraint.
In the kitchen, I slap together a basic breakfast—scrambled eggs with cheese, toast slathered in honey, and sausage patties sizzling in the skillet. I need something to distract me from the all-consuming thoughts of her.
Making coffee, I’m surprised not to see her shuffle up to the table. So I grab a tray and arrange the items meticulously, adding a cup of coffee, a small glass of orange juice, and a bottle of water. With the tray balanced in my hands, I head to her bedroom, knocking lightly on the door.
“Breakfast,” I call out.
After a few seconds, Kayla opens the door. She rubs the sleep from her eyes, the dark blonde tendrils of her hair framing her face in a disheveled halo. When she sees the tray in my hands, her lips curve into a smile so radiant, it nearly floors me.
“Breakfast?” she asks in a sleepy voice that’s the sultriest thing I’ve ever heard.
“Thought you might be hungry.” I shrug.
“Thanks,” she murmurs.
“Of course.” My reply is gruff, and there’s a sudden tightness in my chest.
Her fingers brush mine as she takes the tray, and a spark jumps between us, hot and electric, but I keep my posture and face natural. Since she leaves the door open like a silent invitation, I follow her into her room, keeping a careful distance. She settles against the headboard with the tray, and I perch on the edge of the bed, acutely aware of the space between us.
She’s healing, both inside and out, but I’m here to play the long game.
“Is it alright?” I ask, nodding toward the humble meal. It’s nothing compared to what I want to give her—a world free from fear, a life unchained, a life of pleasure.
“It’s perfect.” She digs into the eggs.
“I’m glad.” My eyes rake over her, taking inventory of every healed cut, every fading bruise.
“You don’t have to do all this, you know,” she mumbles around a mouthful of fluffy eggs.
“Do all what?”
“Take care of me. Cooking breakfast. Being here.” She gestures around the room with her fork. “It’s not your job.”
“The hell it is, Kayla. And more than that, I want to.” On the edge of the bed, I lean forward with my elbows digging into my knees as the mattress sags under my weight. “You mean everything to me,” I rasp out, my intense emotions a fist squeezing my throat.
Kayla’s eyes dart away as a blush creeps up her neck while she nibbles on a piece of toast. “I just... I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You’re not,” I say firmly. “You’re our Omega.”
She chews slowly, as if considering my words.
“I’ve never really had anyone look out for me like this before. My mom tries, but she’s always busy working double shifts and stuff.”
I hold my tongue, wanting to ask her about her stepfather and what the fuck he did to her, but I know if I do, she’ll either clam up, or I’ll want to rip his face off. Neither would be beneficial at the moment.
“You deserve nice things, Kayla,” I manage to say.
“It’s... nice, but I don’t know how to handle it.”
“Just enjoy.”
Her eyes meet mine, and there’s a glimmer of vulnerability there that makes my chest tighten.
“Why do you care so much?” she whispers, a slight tremble in her words.
“Because I see you, Kayla. I recognize the strength it takes to keep going, even when everything is falling apart. I want you to know I’m here,” I whisper, leaning in slightly. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
“You, Liam, and now even Ryker think I’m your Omega.” She pushes her eggs around on her plate. “But what if you’re all wrong? What if—” She hiccups. “What if because of my past, I never go into heat, never get over this?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I say, and she glances up sharply. “I’ll prove myself to you day by day. We’ll go at whatever pace you need, Kayla. You’re the one in charge. I’ll wait forever if you need me to, and I know Liam and Ryker would tell you the same.”
Her eyes hold mine for a long moment before she gives a small nod, pressing her lips together tightly. She blinks back tears.
“Hey,” I say. “What is it?” I’d flay open the world for her if it meant seeing her smile again.
“Could I... I mean, would it be possible to send a message to my mom?” Her question slices through the air, as delicate and dangerous as glass shards. “Let her know I’m okay.”
My throat tightens around the lie that must be told. “Not yet, Kayla. Nexus is watching your family to see if you or anyone else tries to make contact.”
Her shoulders slump, the weight of disappointment settling over her.
“Once everything is settled...” I trail off, my words hollow even to my own ears.
“Okay.” She nods, though her eyes shimmer with unshed tears.
Damn it. I hate being the one to make her sad.
With her hand trembling slightly, she eats a bit more, but not enough to my liking, then sets the tray of half-eaten food to the side. Her legs tuck beneath her, drawing my focus to the delicate curve of her calf, and my damn cock stirs.
She places the coffee on the nightstand along with the water beside the bed. “Thanks again for bringing me breakfast in bed.”
“Of course,” I say, my voice nearly a growl. I need to leave before I lose control of myself. Standing, I reach across the bed to retrieve the tray, my hand inadvertently brushing against the warmth of her leg. My muscles lock, and my breath catches in my throat. I yank my hand back, but it’s not the heat of her skin that burns me—it’s the realization of how much she affects me, how much I crave that simple touch.
The air between us is charged, so thick I could carve it with a knife. My discipline splinters for a moment under the weight of that touch.
Her delicate fingers wrap around my hand as she stares up at me.
My throat tightens as she shifts on the bed, coming up onto her knees. A teasing beam of morning light cuts through her sheer nightgown, revealing the soft curves of her breasts. I swallow hard, fighting against the primal urge to take her, claim her.
Then she leans forward and kisses my cheek. “Thank you for the breakfast.”
“Kayla,” I whisper, my voice strained.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean…” She pulls away, biting her lip, her dark blue eyes wide as they meet mine, and a blush creeps across her cheeks.
“Nothing to apologize for,” I say, but my words are ragged. I wonder if she realizes how much she unravels me.
Her scent flares under the intensity, and it’s all I can do to keep my composure. To be the Alpha she needs, not the one my instincts demand. And how I want to rip the bastard apart who hurt her.
She leans forward, and time seems to stutter.
“Here...” Hands shaky, she thrusts the tray at me and lifts her chin in defiance.
I can’t help adoring the little rebel fighter inside her. For a moment, I linger before turning to leave.
“I’ll be around if you need anything else.” I exit her bedroom and pull the door shut behind me. Alone in the hallway, I slump against the wall, chest heaving as I try to steady my ragged breathing and get my pounding heart under control. Breathe, soldier. Just fucking breathe. But every inhale tastes of her, pulling me back to the edge of something dangerous, something sweet.
My heart is a goddamn traitor, pounding in my chest like I’ve run through boot camp on my first day. I stand at the closed door, the scent of Kayla’s perfume—a haunting blend of vanilla and jasmine—clinging to me like a second skin. It’s intoxicating and calls to every primal instinct I possess as an Alpha.
I press my forehead against the cool wood of her door, trying to center myself to regain the discipline that’s as much a part of me as my own flesh.
How the hell am I gonna be able to wait for her to come into her heat fully? Just the trace of it has me wanting to show her what it truly means to be an Omega with an Alpha. To trust me enough to let me show her passion.
Before I break down her door, I move into the kitchen, setting the tray down with more force than necessary, the clatter echoing around. My hands find the edge of the countertop, gripping it tight, knuckles whitening.
“Shit,” I hiss under my breath. Waiting for Kayla is a test of endurance, every bit as demanding as the grueling hours I spent training in the army. Only now, it’s not my body that’s being pushed to the limits but my soul.
“Control,” I mutter, the word a command I’ve barked a thousand times before, but never has it been so fucking difficult to obey.
I could go back, check on her one last time, and make some excuse about forgetting something, but that would be a lie. A betrayal of the trust she’s only beginning to show. So, I turn away from the temptation and retreat to the sanctuary of the gym.
My fists clenched, my body is tense with unsated longing. Getting out my frustration, I pound at the punching bag, pretending it’s the asshole who hurt her.
The ghost of her touch burns me from the inside out, the echo of her voice in my ears, her scent. I know this waiting game is one I have to win. For her. For us.
But fuck, it’s the worst torture.