Chapter 21 | Cole
Cole
A ngus’s mark was still fresh on her neck when I moved closer.
The sharp scent filled the room, curling around me, intoxicating me.
I climbed onto the bed, hovering over her.
Fuck, she looked like a queen lying there covered in our juices.
I licked my lips as I watched her writhing, kicking around the sheets, wanting. .. no, needing more.
Her body was still trembling, twitching beneath me, but I wasn’t finished with her.
Not yet. The others were spent, their marks already carved into her, their satisfaction dripping across her skin was irrefutable proof of what we’d done.
But me? I liked to drag it out. Needed to make her feel every second.
I didn’t touch her right away. I wanted her to feel the weight of waiting. The silence stretched, heavy, until she shifted beneath me, restless. That was when I caught her wrist, pressing it into the mattress, my grip unshakable. Her wide eyes snapped to mine, vulnerable and defiant, all at once.
Heather’s glazed eyes blinked up at me, pupils wide, lips parted as though even her breath belonged to me. I loosened my hold on her wrist just enough for her to believe she might be able to move. She tried—of course she did—and I caught her again, pressing her back into the sheets.
“Not so fast,” I whispered in her ear. My breath made her shiver. “You don’t get to run from me. Not yet.”
Her whimper slid between her teeth, soft and helpless. She squirmed beneath me, and I laughed low in my chest. I loved this part—loved knowing she was too wrecked to fight me but still too proud to beg outright.
I kissed a line down her jaw, deliberately slow, letting my tongue drag over her sweat-slick skin. Each pause, each brush of my lips, made her shift beneath me, restless, impatient. She bucked her hips, seeking more friction, but I moved to pin her even harder.
“Ah, ah,” I taunted, pulling back just enough to meet her wild eyes. “Patience, Omega. You’ll get what you want when I decide you’ve earned it.”
The frustrated noise that ripped from her throat made me grin. She arched against me, teeth clenched, hands twisting in the sheets. Every ounce of her was straining toward me, and I relished it. Drawing out her need was better than any quick release.
I traced circles around her marks with my tongue, ignoring the places she wanted me most. She gasped, then tried to turn her head away, but I caught her chin between my fingers and forced her gaze back to mine.
“You let them claim you so easily,” I said, my voice low, smooth, deliberately dark. I let my thumb stroke across her skin, a parody of gentleness. “But you should know, I don’t rush.”
Her pulse thudded against my fingers, frantic. She wanted me. Wanted this. “Look at me,” I ordered, soft but commanding. “Every sound, every shiver—it’s mine. Do you understand?”
She nodded, weak, desperate, and the small surrender pulled heat straight through my blood.
I leaned in, close enough for my lips to brush her ear. “I want to hear you scream my name.”
The sound she made then, half frustration, half need... went straight to the darker part of me. She writhed, testing my hold, as if she could slip free. I pressed her harder into the mattress, savoring the way her body arched, caught between resistance and surrender.
Every shiver, every whimper, I dragged out of her piece by piece, until her pride frayed at the edges. That was when I finally gave her what she was straining for. The moment I sank into her, she broke with a gasp so raw it clawed at my chest.
My control stretched thin. Her heat, her scent, the way she clenched under me. It shredded my careful logic, leaving me strung between desire and hunger. I tightened my grip on her wrist, pinning her, anchoring myself through restraint as I drove into her with brutal precision.
I drove deeper, setting a rhythm that bordered on cruel.
Just enough to keep her on the edge, never enough to tip her over.
I loved the way she writhed, her body begging in ways her mouth refused to.
Each thrust drew higher cries, each withdrawal broke her down further, until she was nothing but sound and movement beneath me.
And then, when her nails clawed at my shoulders, when her voice was hoarse from my name, I gave her what she craved. Brutal, relentless rhythm, hard enough to make her arch off the bed and scream.
Her orgasm tore through her, raw and violent, her body tightening around me until I lost control myself.
Holding her down, she shattered, and I watched her come undone as her cries rose higher, cracked into something desperate, and the sound undid me.
I snapped, teeth finding the soft curve of her neck opposite Angus’s mark. I bit deep.
She screamed... but not in fear. Her voice cracked on my name, the sound torn from her chest. That was what I wanted. That surrender, that need only I could wring out of her.
Then, her body arched into mine as I tore into her flesh, sealing what I already knew. The bond seared through me like a fire in my blood, a leash that pulled tight, unbreakable.
I licked over the wound, slow, savoring the taste of her, of my Omega. My voice was rough when I spoke against her skin.
“Now you’re mine too.”
Her body was still shuddering when I pulled back, my lips wet with her blood and taste. The scent of my claim tangled with my pack’s, thick in the air, wrapping around her like a second skin. She was ours now. Mine.
She sagged beneath me, utterly spent, her scent heavy with satisfaction and surrender.
I brushed the damp hair from her forehead, studying the four marks that bound her to us, and something inside me coiled.
Possession. Hunger. Then I looked down at her.
She wasn’t trembling with fear. She wasn’t shrinking back.
Instead, she looked wrecked and undone. But her eyes were half-lidded, glazed over, consumed by her heat. Wanting, no needing more.
I pressed my forehead to hers, breathing hard. Then, trailed my tongue over her mark one last time, sealing it, claiming it. My voice came out rough, more of a growl than words.
“You’re ours now, Heather. Always and forever. Ours.” She smiled as I pulled out, both of us exhausted.
Heather sagged against the sheets, breath catching as her body came down from the high of my claim.
Blood still slicked my tongue, metallic and sweet, her scent woven tighter with mine.
My mark stood bold against her skin, opposite Angus’s.
For a moment, I just stared—four wounds, side by side, binding her to us all.
Instead of jealousy, pride curled hot in my chest.
She bore us now. Angus’s fire, my control, Bennett’s steadiness, and Dante’s empathy. She wasn’t split between us. She was whole because of us.
Bennett moved in quietly, his presence as grounding as always. He brushed her hair back, pressing his lips to her temple, and Heather melted into him with a soft sigh. Once, I might have bristled. Now I only watched, something deep inside me settling at the sight.
This was what it meant to be a pack.
“How are you feeling, Heather?” Dante asked.
“Mmm...” she moaned, pulling the sheet up. I covered her over and kissed her good night. She looked worn out. I smiled. For all her writhing and defiance, Heather had given me exactly what I craved, her surrender, stretched out, fought for, wrung from her until nothing was left but truth.
And I’d do it again, as many times as it took to remind her who I was.
Her Alpha.
Her Pack.
Her Home.