My fingers find the hem of his shirt, hesitating at the boundary. This is another line we haven't crossed, another threshold we haven't stepped over. I glance up at him again, seeking permission.
His eyes are nearly black now, the blue reduced to a thin ring around dilated pupils. He watches me with an intensity that would be terrifying if he were any other alpha.
Slowly, carefully, I slip my hand beneath his shirt, my palm coming to rest on the bare skin of his stomach. He's burning hot, his skin like satin over steel. A shuddering breath escapes him, his chest rising sharply beneath my cheek. His arm around me tightens fractionally, drawing me impossibly closer.
I let my hand wander, exploring the terrain of his body with gentle curiosity. Each scar I encounter is a question I don't ask, a story he'll tell me when he's ready—if he's ever ready. For now, I simply accept them as part of him, as integral to who he is as his blue eyes or his strong, gentle hands.
My fingers trace upward, following the line of his sternum, feeling the powerful thump of his heart beneath the webbing of scars. He flinches and tenses up again at first, his gaze flicking away from me, but he takes in a shuddering breath and holds it, stilling himself.
I spread my fingers wide, absorbing the heat and strength of him through this simple touch. His pulse picks up and a low growl rumbles through his chest, vibrating against my cheek.
Not a warning, but something else entirely. Something that makes my own pulse quicken in response.
The suppressant shot is still working—I can feel it in the artificial coolness of my blood, the dampened response of my body—but it's fighting a losing battle against the growing heat between my thighs, the tightening of my nipples, the flush spreading across my skin.
My hand drifts lower again, tracing the hard planes of his abdomen to the waistband of his sweatpants. His muscles tense again beneath my touch, his breathing growing more ragged.
A sudden, unwanted memory hits me hard enough to make my hands freeze. Wade's hands gripping my wrists too tight, his voice in my ear.“You belong to me, bitch.”
Wraith notices immediately, his body going still beneath my touch. His eyes find mine, questioning, concern etched in their blue depths. His rough hand comes up to touch my cheek, tucking my hair behind my ear. Gently.
Always so gentle.
Only for me.
His touch makes my inner omega purr in response.
The telltale warmth inside me is building, the gathering ache between my thighs that signals my heat approaching despite the medication. Usually, that realization would terrify me.
But here, with Wraith… the fear is there, but it's different. Smaller. Manageable. More a buzzing nervousness that's waking me up than anything serious. I feel vulnerable, but in a way I find myself actually enjoying.
I've spent months running, hiding, suppressing every natural instinct. Denying my omega nature to stay safe. Burning away Wade's mark had been excruciating, but necessary. Even now, it's prickling, a constant reminder that I belong to no one but myself.
Now, lying here with Wraith's massive frame carefully cradled around mine, I realize something. This is about far more than physical need. This is about reclaiming something that was stolen from me.
With Wraith, every touch is a question. Never a demand. Every moment of intimacy offered, not taken.
I'm not running from something this time.
I'mchoosingsomething.
Someone.
"Wraith," I whisper.
He shifts slightly, gazing down at me with a question in his eyes.
"I..." I swallow hard, gathering my courage. "I need to ask you something."
He nods, waiting.
"The second suppressant shot... I don't want to take it. It was too hard on my system. Because of my burned mating mark, I think," I admit. "My heat is still coming, just slower."
A soft, distressed rumble vibrates through his chest, so low I feel rather than hear it. His throat works beneath his mask, a convulsive swallow. When his hand finally moves again, the signs come slow, halting.
W-H-A-T... D-O... Y-O-U... N-E-E-D?
I hesitate, not sure how to answer him.
