When I shift, every muscle protests. My thighs, my hips, the ache deep in my core—it’s all deliciously sore. There’s a slick, messy reminder of my heat between my legs, and when I move, I feel exactly how thoroughly they worked me.
“Hey.” It’s Jake’s voice, soft and close. “I can hear you thinking from here.”
I turn my head. The movement takes more effort than it should, like my muscles have forgotten how to work. His brown eyes are warm, and there’s a small smile playing at his lips that makes his dimple appear.
“How long?” My voice comes out in a croak.
“Three days.” His hand comes up, fingers gentle as they brush hair away from my face. The touch sends a small spark of pleasure through me even now, my Omega still hyperaware of Alpha contact. “You’ve been mostly out of it. Your heat was intense.”
Three days.
Memories flash through my mind—fragmented, hazy. The weight of bodies pinning me to the mattress. Teeth on my neck. Being stretched and filled and knotted until I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only feel. The wet sounds of skin on skin. My own voice begging—please, Alpha, more, harder, don’t stop?—
Heat floods my face. My scent spikes—embarrassment mixing with buttercups and honey—and Jake’s smile widens.
He leans in, presses a kiss to my forehead, “How do you feel?”
I take inventory. Sore. Definitely sore. There’s a deep ache in my pelvis, in muscles I didn’t know existed. My breasts are tender. When I shift again, I feel the pull of healing bite marks on my shoulders, my neck, the soft swell where thigh meets hip.
But underneath the soreness, there’s something else. Something settled deep in my bones. My Omega isn’t pacing anxiously like she usually does. Isn’t scanning for threats or calculating escape routes. She’s just… content. Sated. Safe.
Like a puzzle piece finally clicking into place.
“Good,” I say, surprised to find I mean it. “Really good. Just?—”
My stomach growls again, loud and insistent enough that Jake can probably feel it where his hand rests on my waist.
He laughs, that warm, familiar sound that makes my Omega want to curl into him and purr. “Starving?”
“Understatement.”
“Good timing, then. The boys went to get food.”
I push myself up to sitting, and the sheet falls to my waist. The cool air hits skin that’s been pressed against warm bodies for days.
My breath catches. I’m disgusting.
My throat is scratchy-dry, my hair matted to my neck and shoulders, everything saturated with the scent of heat and sex.
“I need a shower. And about a gallon of water,” I groan out.
“Want any help?” he says as he turns over to bury his face in a vacant pillow and closes his eyes. A surge of affection pulses in my chest.
“No, I think I can manage it,” I say, throwing a pillow at him. He just burrows in farther, and for the first time, I wonder if Alphas need nests like Omegas do.
The bathroom light is too bright. I squint, stumbling to the shower and turning it on as hot as I can stand. The pressure is perfect, so I stand beneath it for long minutes, letting the heat beat down on me, rinsing away the last three days clinging to my skin.
My body aches in ways I’ve never experienced. Good aches. Satisfied aches. I wash my hair three times before it finally feels clean. Soap away the dried sweat and slick. Watch the water circle the drain and take the last three days with it.
When I finally emerge, wrapped in a towel with my hair dripping down my back, the cool air hits my overheated skin, and I shiver.
I should put on clothes. But the only ones I have make my skin crawl when I think about putting them on, and I don’t seemy bag anywhere. So instead, I drop my towel and crawl back into bed next to Jake.
But not before he looks up at me and sees the state of my body. He raises his fingers and traces over the marks that are everywhere. Bite marks on my shoulders and breasts, some still angry red, others already purpling into bruises. Dark fingerprint-shaped bruises on my hips. A particularly vivid love bite on the inside of my thigh that makes my face heat just looking at it.
Evidence of being thoroughly worked over… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do another heat alone.
The possessive thrill that runs through me at the sight should probably concern me. Instead, my Omega practically purrs with satisfaction.
