The command in his voice cut through the haze, that particular alpha tone that reached past the chaos in her mind and demanded obedience.She stilled, though her body shook like a leaf in a storm.Another whimper escaped—she couldn't help it, couldn't stop the pleading noise that rose from her chest.
"I can help you."His voice had gone rough, each word seeming to cost him.His thumbs brushed over her pulse points where he held her wrists, and even that small touch sent sparks through her."I can ease this.But you must trust me.Can you do that?"
Elizabeth nodded frantically, words beyond her.Yes.Anything.Whatever would make this terrible need stop, whatever would bring back that perfect rightness she'd felt in his arms.She'd argue later, think later, be mortified later.Now there was only the burning and the certainty that he could fix it.
His hands released her wrists only to frame her face again, tilting it up to study her with an intensity that should have frightened her.Dark chocolate and autumn filled her lungs with each shallow breath.His pupils had blown wide, leaving only a rim of dark brown, and she could see him fighting for control with every heartbeat.
"This isn't—" He stopped, jaw working.Started again."Elizabeth, you don't understand what's happening to your body.You're presenting as an omega.Late, which is why it's so severe.Your body is preparing for—" Another stop.She watched him struggle with words, this man who always knew what to say."You're in heat.Your first heat."
The words should have meant something.Should have sparked proper horror, denial, something beyond the singular focus on getting closer to him.But her mind couldn't hold the thought, not when he was so close and yet not close enough.
"I'm going to help you," he said, and his voice had gone so gentle it made her chest ache with something beyond the physical torment."But Elizabeth— what I'm about to do—you must know I would never, if there were any other way—"
She pulled against his hold, seeking his mouth again, and he made a sound that might have been her name or might have been a prayer.
"You need to tell me if you want me to stop.Do you understand?"
Elizabeth tried to form the word—yes—but it emerged as a desperate whimper that made him flinch.She trusted him.Had trusted him since reading his letter at Hunsford, since learning what he'd done for Lydia, tracking Wickham through London's underbelly and paying four thousand pounds to save her family.The man who'd done that would never harm her.But words had abandoned her entirely, leaving only the frantic nod of her head.
Darcy's hands guided her toward the bed, each touch careful despite the tension radiating from him in waves.The mattress met the backs of her knees and she sat, obedient to his gentle pressure.Then he did something unexpected—he knelt before her, bringing himself to her eye level.The position sparked anxiety, creating distance when every cell in her body screamed for closeness.
He must have seen her distress because he offered his wrist, bringing it near her face.Elizabeth didn't think—she pressed her cheek against the pulse point, rubbing like a cat seeking comfort.His scent flooded her senses from this proximity, that dark chocolate and autumn combination making her dizzy with need.
"You smell so good."The words escaped without permission, raw and honest.
Darcy's eyes closed briefly, his features twisting with something that looked like pain.When he spoke, his voice had gone carefully clinical, as if reciting from a medical text.
"That's the heat.Your omega instincts responding to an alpha's scent."
His hands moved to her wrapper, but Elizabeth didn't wait.She tore at the fabric herself, fingers clumsy with urgency.Everything felt too hot, too tight, too much.She needed it off, needed his hands on her burning skin, needed something she couldn't name but knew only he could provide.
Darcy helped despite his obvious struggle for control, his breathing gone ragged as he eased the wrapper from her shoulders.The thin nightgown beneath offered little coverage—practically translucent in the firelight from the grate.She watched his throat work as he swallowed hard.
"You should rethink this.We shouldn't—"The words came out rough, torn from somewhere deep.
But Elizabeth was already grabbing his shirt, fisting the fine linen to pull him closer.The distance between them felt like agony.
"Don't stop."Pride had burned away completely, leaving only desperate need."Please don't stop."
She'd beg if she must.She didn't care anymore.
"Lie back."
CHAPTERTHREE
The commandin his voice struck something deep in Elizabeth's core, a part of her she hadn't known existed until this moment.Her body obeyed before her mind could form thought, reclining against the mattress that smelled so thoroughly of him—dark chocolate and autumn leaves in every fiber.She trembled, watching him through eyes that couldn't quite focus.
Kneeling, Darcy's hands went to her ankles, fingers circling the delicate bones, and even that simple touch ripped a gasp from her throat.The contact sang through her nerves, fire and relief tangled together until she couldn't separate them.
"I'm going to help you."His voice had gone rough as gravel, each word seeming dragged from him."Trust me."
Elizabeth nodded frantically, words scattered beyond reach.She did trust him—had trusted him since learning the truth of his character, since understanding the man beneath the proud exterior.That trust felt like the only solid thing in a world turned liquid and burning.
His hands slid up her calves with agonizing slowness, thumbs pressing into the muscles, fingers splayed to cover as much skin as possible.Each inch he traveled sent sparks racing ahead, her body anticipating, craving, demanding more.Over her knees now, that sensitive hollow behind them that she'd never known could feel like this.
Her nightgown rode up with his progress, the fine cotton bunching around her thighs.Shame should have flooded her—Elizabeth Bennet, sprawled wanton on Fitzwilliam Darcy's bed with her legs bare to his gaze.But mortification required thought, and thought had drowned in sensation.She needed more.Needed everything.Needed whatever would fill this hollow ache that threatened to tear her apart.
"Please, please—"
