Chapter 35 Mona
I wake in the morning sandwiched between two men. Orion must have snuck in sometime before dawn, and that just warms my fucking heart. Without thinking, I curl myself around him, arms and legs clinging like a koala, and squeeze him tight.
Guilt pricks at me for what I'd done with Grayson last night, without him, but I push the feeling away.
So I do what seems rational and straddle Orion, clutch his ears and kiss him senseless.
The rumble of laughter in his chest melts my anxiety, and when his hands trail down my waist and grip my ass cheeks, I realize he probably isn't all that bothered that I slept with Grayson.
I break the kiss just enough to whisper, "Are we okay?"
"Not quite," he murmurs against my lips.
"Open a little wider." His hands slide to my thighs, gently urging them apart as he guides my hips down, pressing his hard length against my core.
I respond instantly, grinding against him, but before I can take things further, he ends our kiss with a playful nip and pulls away.
His expression turns contemplative as his thumbs trace the outline of my jaw and lips. "Firefly, we're more than okay. I'm not in any rush."
I raise an eyebrow, my gaze dropping pointedly to where our bodies press together, and to the painfully obvious tent in his shorts. He chuckles, then amends, "Most of me isn't in a rush."
"I can't believe you guys didn't tell me about knots. A little warning would have been nice."
Grayson, now awake beside us, leans over and kisses my bare shoulder. "Where's the fun in that?"
I shoot him a glare. "Is there anything else sex-related I should know about?"
The guys exchange glances, making me nervous. I let out a frustrated groan. "Seriously? There is?"
"We'll need to talk about your heat soon," Orion says, pulling me down for another kiss.
"What's a heat?"
"It's like a fever for omegas. Makes you... need things. Nature's way of ensuring rare bloodlines continue. It happens—I'm not sure exactly—" Orion turns to Grayson who, unhelpfully, shrugs. "I think every few months or maybe once a year. We'll have to ask Doc."
"Why is everything about procreation with you people?" I gave them both a disgruntled huff and cross my arms against my chest. "And what exactly does need things mean?" I ask with quotations.
"I think, umm… I think you may have had one before. When you jumped off that cliff and knocked yourself out?"
The memory of that day in the diner comes flooding in.
The way I sat there, confused and scared and irrationally fucking horny, the way Beep kept saying heat.
Before those wolves found me, who were undoubtedly far more aggressive than all the others.
After I jumped off the cliff, I woke up on a muddy bank, but wasn't sure how much time had passed.
Days, maybe. I still felt off, but not nearly as bad as when it started.
"That was a heat? So, what happens? Why—"
Grayson leans over to bite my shoulder, sending a shiver down my spine. "As soon as we get back, we'll explain the finer details, though I'm sure you can use your imagination till then," Grayson teases.
I shove him away and scramble off Orion's lap and out of the bed. "What happened to transparency?" I grit, yanking on my pants.
Grayson, unconcerned with offending me, saunters over and snatches my bra from my hands. He perches at the edge of the mattress and tugs me backward until I'm settled on his lap.
He casually toys with my nipple, fingertips gently brushing the sensitive bud before squeezing and flicking.
Then his full palm kneads my breast, and a current runs through me at his touch, like he's stuck an electric prod inside me.
My pussy clenches as he tweaks my nipple, making it impossible to focus while heat pools low in my belly.
"Stop using sex against my anger," I say weakly.
Of course, he carries on the conversation like I'm not trembling in his lap, and says, "I'm answering your question. So, heat… Deliriously horny. Fever high enough to kill a human. Constant begging for a knot, for our cum—needing to get fucked in every hole for hours, for days."
"Wh-what?" His words echo through me, and while I catch every word, they take a moment to register. Grayson continues to pinch my hardened nipples and I clench involuntarily each time, while hot, wet slick floods from my core. My omega whimpers, my honeyed perfume filling the air.
Orion appears beside us with that infuriatingly playful grin as he pulls me out of Grayson's lap and into his arms.
"God, you smell good," he groans into the space between my neck and ear, taking a deep inhale.
"Maybe do something about it," I pant.
"I plan to. Soon. For now—" He plucks my bra from Grayson's hands and guides it over my head. I raise my arms obediently because all my blood has concentrated south of my brain.
Orion continues, "An omega's heat is messy, intense, and hot as fuck.
Yes, it's tied to procreation, but so is regular sex—which means it's something we all can enjoy together.
Don't listen to Grayson. Neither of us has been through one, so it might be best to consult Doc on this, and we can do that together when we get home in a few days. "
"I'm not seriously supposed to ask Doc about—that?" I hiss, shuddering, thinking about everything Grayson just listed, then about asking the sweet old man with white hair and grandfather-energy to explain wild omega sex.
I'm only slightly mollified by the fact that the guys are ignorant on the subject as well.
I relent, agreeing to discuss it when they get back after the full moon in a few days.
And while a million other questions pile up in my mind, the guys have a mission to prepare for, bags to pack, plans to finalize before tomorrow's departure.
My chest tightens. I'm not ready for them to go. I feel like I've barely settled in. Everything feels rushed. I've only just got here and they're leaving again. Two or three days, they promised, but that seems like an eternity.
I make one last desperate attempt to convince them to bring me along, but am shot down pretty quickly. They leave me for the day with a quick kiss and a promise they won't be home late tonight.
My bodyguards for the day are Kellen and Cynthia. And after wallowing around the empty house for an hour, I decide I'm feeling brave enough to venture out. This is my home now. I need to find my place in it—not as Grayson and Orion's mate, but as me, Mona. Or, okay fine—Mona, the omega.
"The woods are off-limits until Gray lifts the red-threat, but we can take you to the heart if we stay on the roads," Cynthia tells me as we step outside the cabin.
It's humid, a surprising feat this high in the mountains.
The sun is bright, the air feels good. I leave my cardigan behind, surrendering to the inevitability of more freckles the sun will paint across my face, shoulders and arms.
The heart is what they call the small downtown area—the cluster of weathered buildings where most of the clan's social life takes place. We walk along the dirt road, occasionally spotting wolves patrolling through the trees. It doesn't take long before the buildings come into view.
Shifters greet me with friendly waves as we pass, though few approach. In a community this small, Kellen and Cynthia seem to know everyone by name. They must be giving off their enforcer alpha energy, though—most people keep a respectful distance away after saying hi.
I find myself in the kitchen; the doors to the bustling dining room are swung wide open.
Shifters pack every corner—more than I've ever seen at once, which makes sense considering Grayson called everyone into the heart until the witch situation is resolved.
But I knew that would be the case before we got here, so I stop and hug strangers, slowly making my way through the busy crowd.
Elder Cora traps me in conversation for almost an hour. When I try to pull away, she demands my presence at Grayson's next monthly gathering with all the elders in the meeting hall, so she can begin my apparent Luna training and educate me on the clan's history.
Kellen saves me, and I suspect he'd have done it sooner if he weren't a little afraid of the old lady with blue hair. I try to ask what the hell Luna Training entails, and he responds with, "Don't ask."
When we move on, I have to pause for hugs and awkward questions about fertility, forcing a smile as strangers invite me to dinner, like I'm some divine emissary.
You are Moon Goddess blessed. It is not a gift to you—it is a gift to them. Be kind and be gracious.
Internally, I sigh. Beep's right. It's still uncomfortable, but I'm learning to accept it.
Eventually, with Cynthia clearing a path—she's significantly better at pushing people away than Kellen, I suspect she outranks him—we make our way through the doors to the back of the kitchen.
It's even busier here—there's a vibrant thrum in the air, yelling and clanking and steaming, the wonderful aromas of food rising above it all.
Hilde spots me from across the room and gives me a quick wave, but she's clearly juggling a million things, so I skirt to the edge, trying to stay out of everyone's way. A girl a bit taller than me, with the same copper-colored hair as mine, struggles with a pot of water nearly half her size.
"Can I help?" I ask, but to my surprise, she hefts the full pot up and onto the industrial stove without spilling a drop.
I stand there uselessly until the girl takes pity on me and nods toward a mountain of turnips waiting to be peeled and chopped.
Knife in hand, together we tackle the monotonous task of prepping, first turnips, then carrots and potatoes.
Her name is Ivy, she's nineteen, and she worships Hilde, wants to take over the kitchens someday. I ask her about her life and am grateful when she fills the silence with chatter. She tells me about her neighbors and gossips about her co-workers.