One finger slides inside me, then a second, stretching me in a way that makes my inner walls clench around the intrusion. His thumb continues to circle my clit, the dual stimulation drawing a whimper from my throat.
“I can’t fuck you properly right now,” he admits, a note of genuine regret in his voice. “Not with this wound. Not the way you deserve.” His fingers curl inside me, finding a spot that makes stars explode behind my eyelids. “But Logan could.”
The mention of Logan’s name should douse the fire building within me. Should remind me of all the reasons this is a terrible idea. Instead, it only intensifies the heat, the image of Logan joining us sending a fresh wave of arousal through my body.
“Logan would take you so well,” Cillian whispers, his fingers working me with maddening precision. “Hard and deep, the way part of you craves. The way your body is made for.”
I shake my head in denial, but my body betrays me, clenching around his fingers at the thought.
“You don’t have to be ashamed of wanting that,” Cillian says, his voice soothing even as his fingers maintain their relentless pace. “It’s natural. It’s biology. And when that dark part of you wants to be put in her place, Logan will always be ready to fulfill that need.”
A moan escapes me, louder than before, as the pleasure builds to an almost unbearable intensity. I’m close, so close, hovering on the edge of release.
“But I’ll be there too,” Cillian promises, his lips brushing my temple. “Making sure he doesn’t take it too far. Making sure you’re safe. Making sure it’s good for all of us.”
His thumb presses harder against my clit, rubbing in tight circles that make my thighs tremble. “Remember when you tied Logan up?” he asks, his voice a seductive purr in my ear. “Next time, you won’t have to trick him into the ropes. I can be there.Ares and Poe too, if you want. We can hold him down and let you have your way with him.”
The image is so vivid, so unexpectedly arousing—Logan restrained, at my mercy, with Cillian and the others ensuring he stays that way—that it pushes me over the edge. The orgasm crashes through me with unexpected force, my body jerking so violently that Cillian has to grab me to keep me from falling off the bed.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, his fingers still moving inside me, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure. “Let go. Let yourself feel it.”
I press my forehead against his, gasping as the waves of sensation gradually subside. For a moment, we stay like that, breathing the same air, connected in a way that feels both intimate and dangerous.
Then Cillian withdraws his hand, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips before pulling back to meet my gaze. “We can talk more about all this in the morning,” he says, his voice soft but steady. “When you’ve had time to think. When I’m not quite so...” He gestures vaguely at himself, at the fever still burning beneath his skin. “We’ll discuss it more.”
I nod, not trusting my voice just yet. My body feels boneless, sated in a way I haven’t experienced in too long. But my mind is racing, trying to process what just happened, what it means for all of us.
“Go to sleep, Maya,” Cillian says, his eyes already starting to drift closed. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”
As I slip into slumber, I can’t help wondering if Cillian is right. If there’s a way for this strange, broken pack to find balance. If there’s a place for me within it that doesn’t feel like surrender.
And most disturbing of all—if I might actually want that.
Iwake before dawn, my body still curved against Cillian’s. His fever still rages, making him like a furnace against my skin. And even though he remains deeply asleep, every breath he takes rattles in his lungs.
What the fuck are we doing?
Cillian isn’t getting better, not anywhere near as quickly as he should. I’d like to think that there isn’t anything that can be done, but I have a sinking suspicion that I know exactly what will help him.
The same thing that helps all injured Omegas.
Their Alpha.
I carefully extract myself from his arms, trying not to wake him. He needs rest to recover, and I... I need space to think. To sort through the tangle of emotions and desires that last night has stirred up.
I slip out of the bed and pause at the door, looking back at Cillian’s sleeping form. Even in the dim pre-dawn light, I can see the improvement in his color, the peaceful set of his features. Whatever caused the fever seems to have passed, leaving him looking more like himself than he has in days.
The knowledge that he’s on the mend should be enough. I should return to my room, to the isolation that’s become my refuge in this strange limbo we’re all trapped in. But as I step into the hallway, my feet carry me in a different direction entirely.
Unsurprisingly, Ares is asleep in his chair outside the door but doesn’t stir as I pass him. I know Logan and Poe spend most of their nights roaming the deserted farmland surrounding thesafe house, standing guard. Poe typically goes to bed as soon as they return at dawn, but Logan usually stays up a little longer, drinking alone in the front room before seeking his own bed.
Sure enough, as I enter the main living area, I find him sitting in a worn armchair facing the windows. The curtains are drawn tight against the approaching dawn, but he stares at them as if he can see through the heavy fabric. A glass of amber liquid dangles from his fingers, half-empty and forgotten.
He doesn’t turn as I approach, though I know he’s aware of my presence.
“Drinking before bed will mess with your sleep,” I inform him pertly.
Logan doesn’t look at me, his gaze still fixed on the curtained windows. “I’ll keep that in mind for the next time I plan to actually get any sleep.”
