Because he’s right. I was made for this—or maybe I was madeintothis, shaped by sixteen years of exhaustion and isolation until surrendering to someone stronger felt like coming home. And in this moment, pinned against a wall with his cock splitting me open and his hand holding me helpless, I don’t care about the difference.
I just want more.
“Please.” The word comes out broken. “Please, Alpha, don’t stop—”
“Never.” He buries himself to the hilt and holds there, his cock pulsing inside me. “I’m never going to stop. I’m going to fuck you until you forget your own name. Until the only thing you can say ismine.”
“Yours.” I’m sobbing now, pleasure and exhaustion and something that feels terrifyingly like peace all tangled together. “I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m—”
His knot swells, locking us together, and I scream until my voice breaks.
The fourth round happens on the balcony.
It’s the middle of the night—or maybe early morning, I can’t tell anymore—and the heat is burning so hot I can’t breathe in the enclosed chamber. I stumble outside, naked and desperate for cool air, and he follows.
“Someone might see,” I whisper, but my body is already arching toward him.
“Let them.” He spins me around and bends me over the stone railing. The entire court spreads out below us—towers and training grounds and the distant glow of phosphorescent crystals. Anyone looking up would see exactly what their Guardian is doing to his omega.
I should care. Should feel shame or embarrassment or something other than desperate, aching need.
But the heat has burned all of that away.
“Please.” I push back against him, feeling his cock slide between my thighs. “I need—”
“I know what you need.” He notches himself at my entrance and pushes in, and the sound I make echoes across the silent court.
He fucks me slow this time—long, deep strokes that make me feel every ridge, every inch, every impossible bit of his size. His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise, holding me in place while he uses me. And the word doesn’t feel wrong anymore. Doesn’t feel like a violation.
It feels like exactly what I am.
His. Used. Owned.Home.
“You’re so quiet,” he murmurs against my ear. “Usually you’re screaming by now.”
“Tired.” The word comes out slurred. I’ve come so many times I’ve lost count. My body feels wrung out, emptied of everything except this endless, burning need. “So tired, Alpha.”
“I know.” His pace slows even further, becoming almost gentle. “But you’re doing so well. Taking me so perfectly. Such a good omega.”
The praise washes over me like warm water, and I feel tears prick my eyes. I spent sixteen years being the strong one. First carrying my parents’ expectations, their cold distance, their legacy. Then carrying the whole village on my shoulders while no one thought to ask if I needed holding.
And now here I am, bent over a balcony railing, being fucked by the monster who destroyed my life, and all I can feel isrelief.
Because I don’t have to be strong here. Don’t have to protect anyone. Don’t have to do anything except take what he gives me and let the pleasure drown everything else.
“That’s it.” He feels the shift in me through the bond—the moment I stop fighting and justsurrender. “That’s my good girl. Just let go. I’ve got you.”
I let go.
The orgasm builds slowly this time, rising like a tide instead of crashing like a wave. I feel it in every nerve ending, every muscle, every cell of my body as he works me toward a peak that seems to go on forever.
When I finally break, it’s not a scream. It’s a sob—deep and wrenching and full of something I don’t have words for. Release.Relief. The bone-deep satisfaction of finally, finally being able to stop fighting.
He comes with me, flooding me with heat, and I feel his knot swell to lock us together.
We stay there for a long time, tied together on the balcony overlooking his court, his massive body curved protectively around mine.
And I realize, with a clarity that cuts through the heat-haze, that what I’m feeling might actually be love.
