26. Gunnar
The elevator descents with a lull that’s almost comforting, but there’s no peace in Aisling’s eyes. They flicker with a feverish light that’s all too familiar, and I can almost feel the heat radiating off her skin.
“Easy, love,” I murmur, more to myself than to her, my arms wrapped tight around her waist. Luka’s got her by the shoulders, and she’s between us like some kind of live wire, twitching and squirming with an energy that’s damn near explosive.
“Can’t…need…” Her words are slurred, dragged out between ragged breaths. Aisling’s hands claw at my shirt, her fingers desperate and pulling. She fumbles with the buttons—hell if she’s not trying to rip them clean off.
“Stop it, Aisling,” I snap, less patient than I should be. It’s a damn struggle holding onto control when every cell in my body screams to take her right here, public decency be damned.
But we’re not animals.
Not completely.
“Get your hands on her,” I order Luka, voice rough as gravel. “Keep her busy.”
Luka doesn’t hesitate. He slips one hand beneath the hem of her dress, his fingers disappearing into the shadowed space between her thighs. The fabric bunches up, and I catch a glimpse of pale skin before Aisling lets out a guttural moan.
“Like that?” Luka’s voice is loaded with a smug kind of concern that makes my blood simmer. We’ve got history, the three of us, tangled and frayed, but right now he’s just another alpha helping me care for our omega.
We’re pack…and we’ll have to negotiate what that means when we’ve gotten her through her heat, the most intense heat I’ve seen from her.
“More,” Aisling gasps, her head lolling back against Luka’s arm. “Please.”
“Shh, Ais.” My voice is a low growl, barely recognizable to my own ears. “Just hang on a little longer.”
She bucks against Luka’s hand, her grey eyes clouded with lust and something wild. It’s hard to watch—to see her so undone—but it’s harder still to keep my own hands steady.
“Good?” I check with Luka, even though I know the answer. His eyes are dark with concentration, focused entirely on Aisling, on giving her what she needs to stay this side of sane.
“Very,” he replies, and the corner of his mouth quirks up in a way that would have me punching him if circumstances were different.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath as the elevator dings, signaling our arrival at the promised land of heat spas and dens.
The doors slide open and not a moment too soon. It feels like we’re transporting volatile cargo, ready to blow at the slightest misstep. And maybe we are. Aisling is a force unto herself, even more so when her heat hits like a tidal wave, dragging us all under.
The attendant at the front barely glances up from her holographic display, but her eyes widen a fraction when she sees Aisling in our arms, caught in the throes of her heat. “Mr. Finch,” she says, voice steady despite the obvious surprise, “Miss Toure made a reservation for you.”
It surprises me, but I don’t have time for questions. I can figure out how the hell Inari knew about this later. “Which suite?” I snap, more brusque than I intend, but there’s no time for niceties—not with Aisling writhing between us.
“End of the hall,” she answers quickly, pointing to the left without missing a beat.
“Thanks,” I grunt, already moving past her, Luka at my heels.
Aisling’s fingers claw at my neck, desperate and demanding, as I stride down the hallway, each step jarring another moan from her lips. Her perfume wraps around me, thick and intoxicating, making it damn hard to focus on anything else.
“Need you,” she whispers, hot breath against my throat, and then she bites down—hard.
“Shit!” I curse, stumbling slightly, the pain sharp and sudden. It’s a wake-up call, though, reminding me this isn’t just about lust—it’s about connection, about the raw need to claim and be claimed.
Luka’s hand is on the door handle now, turning it with a swift motion before kicking it closed behind us with a definitive slam that echoes in the spacious room.
“Put me down,” Aisling demands, squirming in my arms, her legs still locked tight around my waist. But I can’t—not yet. Not until I have a place to put her down, a nest, somewhere I can fuck her senseless until she’s done with her heat.
“Almost there, Ais,” I assure her, trying to keep my voice steady while my body reacts to every little move she makes.
“Please,” she begs, and it’s a punch straight to the gut, that single word wrapped in vulnerability and desire.
“Fuck,” I mutter again, because what else can I say? She’s everything—my omega, my torment, my salvation.
“Right here, Gunnar,” Luka says, nodding toward the massive bed that dominates the suite.
“Thanks,” I manage to say, carrying Aisling over to the bed, not bothering to take in the rest of the room. There’s only one thing that matters right now: getting Aisling through this heat with her—and our—sanity intact.
The moment we reach the bed, a nest of plush covers and cushions designed for an omega’s heat, I release her, and she lands with a soft bounce. Aisling doesn’t pause; she arches up from the mattress, her body a beacon calling me back in. In one fluid motion, I rip my shirt over my head, buttons popping off and scattering like shrapnel.
“Come here!” She’s frantic, her voice husky, fingers clawing at the air between us.
“Easy, Stargazer,” I growl, but it’s all for show. There’s nothing ‘easy’ about this, about us, especially not now. The rest of my clothes are a hindrance, and they’re gone—kicked aside, forgotten.
In the next heartbeat, I’m on her. Her legs wrap around me instinctively as I pin her down, my hands gripping her thighs hard enough to leave marks that’ll last for days. “Gunnar!” she cries out, and there’s no other sound in the world that could fuel me more.
I thrust into her, hard and unyielding, and she meets me with equal ferocity. It’s a primal dance between two forces bound by something deeper than reason or logic. We move together, the slick sound of our union filling the room, drowning out the hum of the city beyond these walls.
I don’t wait; I shove my knot inside her, the clench of her pussy almost making me come right away. “Mine,” I grunt, every muscle tensed as I drive deeper into her heat.
“Yours,” she gasps, her eyes wild, reflecting a storm of emotions—desire, pain, love. It’s a twisted kind of beauty, watching her unravel beneath me.
Aisling’s hand flails, reaching out for something more, a desperate plea without words. I catch her wrist and see it in her eyes—she’s not just lost in the heat; she’s searching for every piece of us, trying to pull us all into her orbit.
“Luka,” I snap, my voice hard as nails. He knows what I mean. He’s already stripping off his clothes, movements hurried but deliberate. I keep my eyes locked with Aisling’s, watching as he positions himself by the bed. “Get under her. She needs to be filled by her pack…by all of us.”
I lift her up like she weighs nothing, cradle her against me to give Luka room. The sight of him readying himself stokes the fire in my veins. It’s messed up, the way we’re bound together, but right now, none of that matters.
We’re here to quench her fire, to satisfy the need clawing at her insides.
“Look at me, Aisling,” I command, grasping her hair just shy of too rough, making her focus on my face. Her grey eyes, usually sharp like a storm about to break, are hazy but pin me down just the same. “I love you. You’re mine—all of you—and I’m yours.” It’s a vow, a claim, and a surrender all at once.
“Yours,” she breathes again, and it’s a benediction that sears through me. She’s more than heat and lust; she’s the gravity that keeps my world from spinning out of control.
I watch as Luka reaches for her, his touch tentative at first but growing bolder under my nod of approval. Aisling’s hips give an involuntary jerk, seeking the completion she craves, searching for him—her instinct overpowering her senses.
“Breathe,” I growl softly, keeping my voice steady despite the chaos she stirs within me. It reminds me of that first heat I spent with her—taking her through it, still green enough that I wasn’t sure what to do, and fully, madly in love. “Stay still, Aisling.”
She freezes, a small whimper escaping her lips as I guide her down onto him. The connection is made, his cock pressing slowly inside her ass, and her body relaxes into the sensation.
She’s caught between us, and I’ve never felt more possessive or more protective.
“Good girl,” I murmur against her skin, feeling every quiver that runs through her body. She’s lightning, and I’m grounding her…or at least, I’m trying.
Her compliance unravels something in me, something tight and frayed from our time apart. Every moment without her was a dull ache, a constant throb of something missing—a piece of myself I couldn’t reach. But now, with her here, pulsing and alive beneath me, it’s like I can finally breathe again.
“Missed you,” I admit, my voice rough with the emotion I don’t have a name for. “More than you know.”
“Gun—“ Her attempt to speak cuts off as another wave of her heat hits, and her back arches, pressing her closer to both of us.
“Shh, don’t talk. Just feel,” I instruct, my hands roaming over her, claiming every inch of skin as mine once more. My world narrows down to her—the scent of her need, the heat of her skin, the sounds she makes.
It’s all-consuming, this dance of flesh and desire, and I am utterly devoted to its rhythm. As much as this is about her heat, about the primal need to claim and be claimed, there’s an undercurrent of something deeper, something fiercely tender.
“Always been yours, Gunnar.” Her whisper is ragged, breaking through her delirium, and it punches straight through my chest.
“Damn right,” I affirm, the words a growl of possession and promise.
“Sorry… I’m so sorry,” she gasps out, her grey eyes shimmering with unshed tears as they lock with mine. It’s a look that slices through the haze of lust, grounding me with its intensity.
“Nothing to be sorry for, Aisling. Nothing at all.” The words tumble from me, fervent and insistent.
But she shakes her head, her body writhing between us, caught in the throes of overwhelming sensation and emotion. “I didn’t mean—“
“Shh, now’s not the time,” I cut her off, my tone softening despite the urgency clawing inside me. “Let’s just get you through this heat.”
She nods, surrendering to the moment, and I take that as my cue. I angle myself, pushing deeper, anchoring her to the present, to me. Then, with a measured movement, I guide Luka, easing him into position.
“Ready?” I ask him, and he gives a tight nod, like he’s barely holding back. It reminds me that this is his first real time fucking her—when he wasn’t out of his mind on eros.
We all needed this.
“Good. Now go slow,” I say, my voice low, almost a growl, as I focus on Aisling’s reactions.
Luka complies, and I can feel his cock entering her, the insane pressure making my whole body erupt in goosebumps. Aisling’s groan is a raw sound of pleasure laced with pain, her fingers digging into my back. Her eyes never leave mine, though, holding onto me like I’m the only thing keeping her tethered to sanity amidst the storm of her heat.
I search her face, looking for the love that I know we’ve both fought so damn hard for. It’s there, beneath the wild need, as real and as fierce as the day I first claimed her.
“See? You’re doing great,” I tell her, my voice soothing, though my own body is anything but calm. My instincts are screaming at me to move, to thrust, to claim, but I hold back, giving Luka the space he needs to join us fully.
“Gun…” she starts, choking on whatever apology or confession lies on the tip of her tongue.
“None of that,” I tell her firmly, silencing her with a kiss that’s all possession and homecoming. “We’re here now, together. That’s all that matters.”
Her response is a sob that she stifles against my shoulder, and I feel the wetness of her tears as she clings to me. My heart clenches, but I push aside the ache, focusing on her, on us, on the primal dance that’s as old as time itself.
“Love you, Aisling. Always have, always will,” I murmur against her ear, and I feel her shiver, a reaction that has nothing to do with the fever of her heat and everything to do with the bond that ties us together.
“Love you too,” she whispers back, her voice steadier now, and it’s all the confirmation I need.
And with that, I let the beast within take over.
The room is a whirl of sensations—the rustling of sheets, the heavy breathing, the relentless heat—but I only focus on Aisling. Her leg wraps around my hip, pulling me deeper, and I grip her thigh like I’m holding onto salvation itself. The movement rolls us onto our sides, and I wrap an arm around her waist to keep her close.
“God, I missed you,” I say as I press my forehead to hers. My voice comes out raw, like it’s been dragged over the coals of the hell I’ve been through without her. She starts to come undone between us, her inner walls clamping down in that way that always felt like she was trying to keep me inside her forever.
“Gun…Gunnar…” Her voice is breathless, a mix of pleasure and pain that cuts right through me.
“Hush, love. I got you.” And I do. I have her in every way a man can have a woman, and yet it still feels like I’m the one who’s been claimed.
Her eyes lock onto mine, grey storms of emotion, and something unspoken passes between us. It’s raw and real, the kind of connection that doesn’t need words.
Then the door creaks open, and I can smell him before I even turn my head—Oberon, with his quiet strength and unwavering loyalty. Without breaking the rhythm, I glance over my shoulder and jerk my chin, signaling for him to get closer.
“Get in here,” I growl, low and urgent. He doesn’t hesitate, taking a few measured steps toward the bed where Aisling writhes between us. His presence fills the room, another layer of heat in the already sweltering air.
Aisling’s fingers dig into my skin, and I welcome the sting. It’s nothing compared to the ache of needing her, of having her so close after everything that’s happened. Oberon might be here to help her through the heat, but right now, it feels like we’re the ones being healed.
“Oberon,” I say, my voice a command that brooks no argument, “She needs us. All of us.”
He nods, a silent acknowledgment as he sheds his clothes with efficient movements. There’s no shame or hesitation; we’re beyond that, driven by the primal need to tend to our omega.
I shift slightly, allowing space for Oberon as he approaches the bed, his gaze never leaving her. Her eyes flicker to him, and something like relief flashes across her face.
She has us all.
Finally.
“Can’t believe how strong it is this time,” I mutter, half to myself, half to him. My words are slurred with pleasure, barely able to form them given the way she clenches my cock. “Her heat’s never hit this hard before.”
“Because she has us,” Oberon replies, understanding without needing an explanation. “Her pack.”
Aisling moans softly, and I refocus on her, the rest of the world narrowing down to the woman in my arms. Her skin glistens with sweat, her body trembling with want and need.
“Shh, baby, we’ve got you,” I reassure her, kissing her forehead as I feel her clench around me. I can sense the tension coiling within her, the storm about to break.
“Let’s give her what she needs,” I say, looking into Oberon’s eyes. “Together.”
And as we fall into rhythm, a perfect, desperate harmony, I realize that this isn’t just a heat—it’s a homecoming.