June’s mouth parts. For a second, she just stares at me like she can’t believe how calm I am about saying it out loud, how easily it exists between us. Then she shrugs, but it’s not casual. It’s an attempt at casual that doesn’t quite land.
She leans in, kissing the side of my neck again, soft and messy, still riding whatever high is moving through her. Her lips linger there, and the tenderness of it makes my vision go sharp around the edges.
“I keep thinking a mark would make me being an Omega real,” she whispers against my skin. “Secure it permanently.”
My throat tightens. I force myself to slow down, to make space for the one thing that matters more than how badly I want it.
“Yes,” she says again, clearer this time. “I want it.”
“June.” I cup her jaw, making her look at me. “Are you sure? Right now you’re flooded with me. Your hormones are zapping. Everything feels bigger. I need you to be certain this is what you want, not just what your body is demanding.”
Her eyes hold mine, steady and bright. She isn’t timid or wavering.
“I’m sure,” she states. “Do it. I want it so badly.”
A tremor runs through me. Want and awe and something fierce and protective. I inhale, and her scent fills my lungs, wraps around my ribs, makes my head feel light. The bond between usis already there, humming. The thought of making it permanent, of knowing she will carry my mark, makes something in me go quiet and absolute.
I move slowly, giving her every chance to stop me.
June tips her head, offering her throat with a deliberate tilt that makes my control strain. My mouth grazes her skin first, a kiss that’s almost reverent. Then another, lower, where she has presented herself. My hands settle at her waist, holding her close while I breathe her in, while I try to be steady enough to do this the right way.
She shifts against me, impatient, and it sends a shock of want through my body.
“Carter,” she whispers, and there’s need in it, but there’s also choice. “Do it.”
I hesitate for one heartbeat, the last thin line of restraint.
June’s fingers thread into my hair, and she nudges me closer, a small push that’s all permission.
“Please,” she repeats, voice rough with wanting. “I want to finally feel real.”
That does it.
I press my mouth to her neck and sink my teeth into her flesh, drawing blood.
She gasps, and her whole body goes taut beneath me, a sharp sound caught in her throat, then a low, shaky exhale that turns into a groan. She doesn’t pull away but clutches at me instead, holding tighter, as if the sensation roots her deeper into the moment, into me.
And I feel something locking into place. The connection between us surges, thickens, settles like it has finally found its home. My chest goes tight, then expands, as if I’ve been living with a missing piece and only now realized how much air I was denying myself.
Foreveris a terrifying word.
Right now it feels like the only one that fits.
I lift my head just enough to look at her, licking the blood from my lips. June is gasping for air, mouth parted like she’s trying to understand what she feels.
Her fingers trace my shoulder, then my neck, almost dazed.
“There,” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I manage, voice rough. “There.”
She smiles, slow and stunned, like she can feel the change too. And like I’m her world, which melts me.
I kiss her forehead, then her mouth, gentle and possessive all at once.
“It was real before,” I tell her. “But yeah. Now it’s permanent.”
15
