Not the tentative, uncertain thing I admitted to in the barn. Something bigger. Something that’s been growing through every moment of this heat—every time he held me through an orgasm, every time he murmured praise against my skin, every time he gave me exactly what I needed without me having to ask.
I don’t say it yet. The words feel too big for this moment, too important to blur into the haze of heat and pleasure.
But I tuck them away for later. For when I can say them clearly.
By the fourth day, I’m barely conscious.
The heat has become a constant presence—not the desperate, burning need of the first day, but a low, insistent pulse that demands satisfaction every few hours. My body has adjusted to his size, stretched and molded to accommodate him, and each taking feels less like invasion and more like completion.
He’s gentler now, sensing my exhaustion through the bond.
We’re in the bathing chamber, warm water swirling around us, and he’s holding me in his lap with my back against his chest. His cock is inside me—has been for what feels like hours—buthe’s not moving. Just holding me, filling me, letting me float in the warm water while his hands stroke lazily across my skin.
“I could stay like this forever,” I murmur.
“We could.” His lips brush my temple. “I could keep you here in our chambers, stuffed full of my cock, never letting you go empty for a single moment.”
The image should feel like a threat. Instead, it feels like a promise.
“Would you like that?” His hand slides down my stomach to where we’re joined, his fingers finding my clit. “Being my perfect little omega? Kept and bred and fucked whenever I want you?”
“Yes.” The word slips out before I can stop it, and I feel him smile against my hair.
“I know.” He starts to move—slow, shallow thrusts that barely shift me in the water. “I know exactly what you want. What you need. I’ve been watching you for sixteen years, remember? I know every secret desire you’ve never admitted to anyone.”
“Tell me.” I don’t know why I’m asking. Maybe the heat has made me brave. Maybe I just need to hear him say it.
“You want to be owned.” His fingers circle my clit as he thrusts deeper. “Not controlled—you’re too strong for that, too fierce. But owned. Possessed. You want to belong to someone so completely that you never have to wonder if you’re enough.”
Tears are sliding down my cheeks, mixing with the bathwater.
“You want someone strong enough to hold you.” Another thrust, deeper still. “Someone who won’t crumble when you lean on them. Someone who can take everything you are and not flinch.”
“Karax—”
“You want to stop fighting.” He buries himself to the hilt and holds there, his knot already starting to swell. “Just for a little while. Just long enough to remember what peace feels like.”
I’m sobbing now—ugly, wrenching sobs that shake my whole body. Because he’s right. He’s right about all of it. And hearing it said out loud, after years of denying it even to myself…
“I’ve got you.” His arms wrap around me, holding me together as his knot locks us in place. “I’ve got you, Hannah. You can stop fighting now. You can rest. I’m strong enough to hold you both.”
I cry until I’m empty.
And then I let him fill me again.
On the morning of the fifth day, I wake clear-headed for the first time in nearly a week.
The heat has finally broken. My body is sore in the best possible way—used, satisfied,claimed. His seed is still dripping out of me, and I can feel bruises on my hips where his hands gripped too hard. My inner thighs ache from being spread around him for four days straight. My pussy feels swollen, tender, reshaped by the constant presence of his cock.
I’ve never felt more alive.
“Welcome back.” Karax’s voice is soft. He’s propped up on one elbow, watching me with those golden eyes. In the morning light, I can see the marks I left on him—scratches on his chest, bite marks on his shoulder, though they’re already healing.
“How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve been fucked by an eight-foot Fae lord for four days straight.” I stretch, feeling every ache and twinge. My voice is hoarse from screaming. My lips are swollen from kissing. My whole body feels like one giant, satisfied nerve ending. “So… good. I feel good.”
He laughs—that warm, genuine sound that I’ve come to crave—and pulls me against his chest. I fit perfectly in the curve of his arm, my head tucked under his chin, my body surrounded by his warmth. Even soft, I can feel his cock against my thigh, and some part of me wonders how long until I need him again.
