She went still. The expression that crossed her face hovered between apprehension and something darker, something she had not yet learned to name. Rowan didn't fully understand those sexual urges yet. She would. I would make sure of it, when it was safe.
“All right,” she whispered. “Do what you need to do .”
I passed her to Ryker, who settled her across his lap, straddling his thighs. His mouth brushed her neck as he murmured reassurance, his grip firm enough to hold her, gentle enough not to restrain her.
I leaned out of the nest and retrieved Ryker’s belt from the floor, pulling it free from the loops of his fatigues and folding it neatly in my palm.
“Breathe,” I told her. “This isn’t punishment. We’ll take care of you and make it up to you. I promise.”
“You both owe meagain,” she murmured weakly.
Ryker huffed a quiet laugh. “I think I already know what you’ll want.”
Rowan glanced over her shoulder, and I met her gaze. “Ready, Pet?”
“Yes,” she replied with a soft nod.
The first strike snapped through the room. She cried out and jolted forward. Ryker tightened his hold to keep her steady. I checked his expression, my eyebrow raised in question. He nodded once. She was okay, but still in heat. I had to keep going.
Each strike came only after I confirmed with Ryker that Rowan was still in heat. I watched her closely, listening to every sound she made. Her noises shifted, pleasure fading, pain taking its place, exactly as intended. Her body obeyed even when her mind faltered.
Soon, the edge dulled. Her scent softened.
Ryker shook his head.
I stopped immediately.
He loosened his hold at once, easing Rowan forward untilshe could rest against his chest. Her breathing was uneven but slowing, her body spent and pliant now that the frenzy of heat had passed. I set the belt aside and knelt in front of her, turning and cupping her face so she had no choice but to look at me.
“You did well,” I told her firmly.
"I think that was actually a compliment. The murder wolf just praised you." Ryker said with a chuckle.
Rowan smiled weakly, looking up at me with tears in her eyes.
We gave her time to recover. No one rushed her. Ryker kept her warm, murmuring quiet praise while he stroked her hair and monitored her scent, which finally settled back to normal. When her hands finally unclenched and her shoulders relaxed, I knew her heat had receded entirely.
Then Killian entered. He took in the scene with a single glance, Rowan curled small and exhausted against Ryker. He crossed the room and knelt beside her, large hands gentle as he brushed his thumb under her chin.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Look at me, Little Bird.”
She turned toward him, eyes glassy and trusting.
“My Crane,” he murmured. “Perfect.”
He kissed her forehead, then her temple, careful with her like she was fragile. Rowan sagged toward him, and Killian wrapped his enormous arms around her, purring.
He helped Rowan sit up without speaking, his care expressed entirely through action. For someone so massive and feral looking, his touch was remarkably gentle as he clothed and comforted her, cautious of every tender spot. Once she redressed, he lifted her without effort, cradling her against his chest. Rowan tucked her face into the hollow of his shoulder, already drifting as he carried her out of the room.
Cade was waiting outside, gun ready, on the lookout.
“Crane needs rest. I’ll carry her,” Killian said, gripping her tightly.
"We can take turns. It's a long way," Cade agreed."Let's move. She can sleep on the way."
Ryker un-barricaded doors. I followed, clearing the furniture piece by piece. When the final obstruction came away, Cade cracked the door and scanned the corridor.
“Clear.”
