"The odds of surviving with those numbers? Less than twelve percent. One in eight." He shook his head, his jaw tight. "I've spent years studying this stuff. I know exactly what happenswhen bonds break, when Omegas separate from their Alphas. I've written papers about it, given lectures. And when it was you, when it was the woman I love dying right in front of me, none of that mattered. I was completely helpless."
He moved closer, his hands gripping the edge of his desk so hard his knuckles went white.
"I felt it through the bond," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I felt your heart stuttering. I felt your body giving up. And there was nothing I could do except stand there and watch the numbers get worse and pray we weren't too late." He came around the desk, stopping directly in front me and crouched down so we were eye level.
"The only reason you're sitting here right now is because Mason made a choice that's going to haunt him forever," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do you understand that? Do you understand what you almost cost us?"
Tears streamed down my face as the weight of his words sank in. "I'm sorry," I whispered, reaching out to cup his face. "Ethan, I'm so sorry. I didn't understand?—"
"No, you didn't." But his voice was softer now, some of the sharp edge bleeding away. He leaned into my touch, his eyes closing briefly. "That's what kills me. You didn't think about what it would do to us. You only thought about yourself, about your fear, about needing to run." He stood, pulling me up with him, his hands gripping my shoulders.
"I need you to really understand what you put us through," he said. "So that the next time you feel scared, the next time you want to run, you'll remember those numbers. You'll remember that you had a twelve percent chance of living through that night. You'll choose differently."
"I will," I promised, fresh tears spilling down my cheeks. "I swear, Ethan. I'll never make that choice again."
"I know you mean that right now." His thumb brushed away my tears, surprisingly gentle. "But I need more than words. I need you to show me."
"Anything," I whispered. "Whatever you need, Ethan. I'll do whatever it takes." Something shifted in his expression, the pain giving way to something darker, something hungrier.
"You ran from us," he said, his voice dropping lower. "You chose to leave. You decided that whatever was out there was better than being here, with me." His hand came up to cup my chin, tilting my face toward his. His green eyes burned into mine. "So now I need to know that you want to stay. I need to hear it. I need you to beg for me, Avalon. Beg for us. Show me that you choose this, that you choose me."
My breath caught in my throat. "Ethan?—"
"You're going to cry for me," he continued, his voice intense and raw. "You're going to beg for me. You're not going to come until I'm absolutely certain that you understand what you almost threw away." Heat flooded through me, pooling low in my belly. My Omega keened at the dominance in his voice, at the raw need barely contained beneath his controlled exterior.
"Yes," I whispered, the word coming out without conscious thought. "Yes, Ethan. Whatever you need. I'm yours."
His eyes darkened, something primal flickering in their depths. "Then show me." He took me to his bedroom, a space I'd never seen before, warmer than his study, the bed covered in soft blankets that smelled like him.
"On the bed," he instructed, his voice calm but with an edge of steel. "On your back."
I obeyed, lying back against the pillows, my heart pounding as he slowly removed his glasses and set them aside. Without them, he looked different, less controlled, more dangerous. His green eyes raked over my clothed body with an intensity that made me squirm.
"Take off your clothes," he growled softly, eyes on me the whole time. "Slowly. I want to see you." My fingers trembled as I reached for the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head. Then my pants, pushed down over my hips. I lay back in just my underwear, vulnerable under his unwavering gaze.
"All of it," he said softly. "Nothing between us." I unhooked my bra, slid off my panties, until I was completely bare before him. The cool air raised goosebumps on my skin, my nipples pebbling into hard peaks, but I resisted the urge to cover myself. Ethan didn't move. Just stood at the foot of the bed, drinking me in with those intense green eyes, his gaze tracing every curve and hollow of my body.
"Beautiful," he murmured. "Do you know how terrified I was that I'd never see you like this again? That the last time I touched you was when I was rying to warm your frozen body?"
His words hit me like a physical blow. "Ethan?—"
"Don't speak," he said, his voice sharp. "Not unless I ask you a question. The only words I want from you right now are begging."
He stripped off his own clothes with efficient movements, revealing lean muscle and pale skin. My eyes traced hungrily down his body, the definition of his chest, the trail of dark hair leading down his stomach, the hard length of his cock already straining with need, thick and flushed and leaking at the tip. Then he climbed onto the bed, positioning himself over me, his body hovering just above mine without quite making contact. I could feel the heat radiating off him, his scent pouring off him, clean and masculine with that sharp edge of Alpha arousal that made my Omega whimper with desperate need.
"You ran from this," he said, his breath warm against my lips. "From me. From us. Tell me why."
"I was scared," I whispered, tears pricking at my eyes. "I needed to know if my choice was real?—"
"Was it worth it?" His hand traced down my side, featherlight, making me shiver. Goosebumps erupted in the wake of his touch, my skin hypersensitive, desperate for more contact. "Was that fear worth almost dying? Worth putting us through hell?"
"No," I sobbed, arching toward his touch. "No, it wasn't. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Ethan."
"Show me you're sorry." His fingers found my breast, circling my nipple without quite touching the hardened peak. The almost-contact was maddening, my nipple aching, straining toward his touch. "Beg me to touch you."
"Please," I gasped, my body straining toward him, my back arching off the bed. "Please touch me, Ethan. I need to feel you. I need your hands on me. Please."
"Why?" His finger finally brushed across my nipple, and I cried out at the sensation, electricity shooting straight to my core. "Why do you need me?"
