Chapter 35
Ariana
Sympathy is one thing. Kinship is another.
Scent matches are considered so special. I doubt there are many people outside of this apartment that can relate to what I’ve experienced. When I take my seat at the table, I sit alongside four others who understand.
I never realized how uncomfortable I was at my scent matches’ home until I came here. The heavy weight in my stomach I used to wake up with has disappeared. I don’t feel expected to constantly have my hair or makeup done to appease the Coates pack. They appreciate me as I am.
Neither do they insist I wear a skirt or dress whether for appearance’s sake or easy access, as Liam would have called it. I’m free to do and eat what I want. I’m not in perpetual fear of angering someone.
The bond is no longer constantly in the back of my mind.
Rather than feeling it steadily hum, it’s like the buzzing of a bee, a matter of standing and waiting shortly for it to go away.
It bothers me still, knowing I’m tied to those men.
When I sit with the four of the Coates pack, though, I feel safe enough to not fret.
What used to be my Sunday fantasy is now a normal day. I don’t have to wait six days out of the week for something as simple as eating a meal together. We just do it, without making a big deal out of it.
“What’s got you smiling?” Sebastian asks next to me, loading food onto my plate.
I didn’t realize I was doing so. “I’m just happy,” I answer honestly. For a concept so simple, it’s been elusive from me for years.
The alpha looks at me fondly. “I’m glad,” he presses a kiss against my cheek.
“Has anyone seen my green shirt?” Jason asks, frowning. Nico catches my eye across the table and winks, making me have to bite down on my lip to prevent a laugh.
I wouldn’t change a thing. Except for one.
“Why’s the heat cranked so high?” I flutter the collar of my shirt, pulling it away from my skin. The fabric suddenly seems constricting and uncomfortable against my chest.
Evan frowns. “What do you mean? The AC’s on.”
That can’t be right. I rise to my feet, assuming someone’s turned it off by mistake. The moment I turn, I feel a trickle between my legs, stopping me in place. The trickle surges, turning into a gush of wetness.
And then my heat swells throughout my body. The ache in my entrance travels, turning my skin sensitive. I press my thighs together, squeezing, impatient for relief. Instead of settling the throbbing at my core, another burst of wetness floods my panties.
“Ariana?” I bite my lip hearing my name, closing my eyes. I can’t tell which alpha it was, but their voice was low and rasping. My hand finds its way to the back of my chair, bracing myself against it.
The material of the shirt I’m wearing scratches against my nipples, stiffened and desperate for attention. Clit pulsing with need, my center clenches around nothing, agonizingly empty. A whine tears through my throat as my scent bursts out of me, thick and concentrated with the smell of chamomile.
The whine turns into a groan as the heat intensifies, slick soaking through my panties and shorts. My thighs turn wet, trembling and struggling to stand.
A pair of strong hands wrap themselves around my waist, keeping me up. I push myself back until I’m pressed close to the sandalwood scented body, breathing in his scent desperately.
“I’ve got you.” Sebastian’s strangled voice makes me moan.
“I need you,” I whimper, turning in his arms so I’m flush against his frame.
His eyes stare down at me hungrily, but he swallows thickly. He’s holding himself back. “We need your permission first. What can we do for you, pretty girl?”
“Touch me,” I whine, grabbing at his shirt collar to pull him down. “Knot me.”