Pulling back, I stare down at her flushed face, the dim light from the bare bulb above catching the sheen of sweat on her skin. It’s too late to hesitate now. The bite mark is already swelling, bright and angry against her pale neck, so everyone will know she’s mine too.
There’s a rough satisfaction burning low inside me, but beneath it lies something else. A bitter knot of guilt twisting tight in my gut. Claiming her like this isn’t just instinct, but a promise, a weight I’m not sure I’m ready to carry.
But she’s here, in my arms, and this chaos outside feels distant and meaningless. For now, this moment is all that matters.
Her eyes are half-closed, pupils blown wide with heat and satisfaction, but I can see the fire still burning there. Her heat isn't close to being done. Hell, we're probably looking at another day, maybe two, before it burns itself out. And that's fine with me. More than fine.
I've waited months for this. Don't get me wrong, I'm not jealous of Logan. But waiting has been its own special kind of torture.
Especially when she looks at me the way she's looking at me right now.
"Griff," she whispers, voice rough and raw from crying out. Her fingers trace the line of my jaw, and I lean into the touch despite myself. I'm not usually the cuddling type, but something about the way she touches me makes me want to purr like a house cat.
Which is fucking embarrassing for an alpha who's supposed to be intimidating.
"What?" I ask, though it comes out more growl than question. I can't help it. My voice has been shot to hell since puberty, and it only gets worse when I'm worked up.
She smiles, soft and satisfied. "Nothing. Just... thank you."
Thank you. Like I did her some kind of favor instead of claiming what was mine to begin with. Sometimes I don't understand how her brain works.
Logan is sitting in the chair by the window, fully dressed again, watching us with those patient eyes of his. He's got that calm, steady expression he always wears, but I can smell the satisfaction rolling off him in waves. He's content. Proud, even. Like he's watching his pack fall into place exactly the way he planned.
Which, knowing Logan, he probably is.
Xavier is leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, but there's nothing relaxed about his posture. He's coiled tight, ready to spring into action at the first sign of trouble. His dark eyes keep flicking toward the door, then back to Savannah, then to the windows. He's on guard duty, essentially, and taking it seriously.
Even down here in this concrete bunker, I can smell other alphas. Faint, but they're not close enough to be a real threat yet. They’re probably drawn by the scent, and worried. If they catch even a whiff of Savannah's heat scent and realize what's happening, they might try to help which would be a disaster for her privacy.
"How long until your heat peaks again?" I ask Savannah, brushing a strand of damp hair away from her face. Her skin is still burning hot to the touch, but the desperate edge has backed off for now.
She considers this, eyes unfocused as she takes inventory of her own body. "An hour? Maybe less?" She shifts against me, and I can feel the slick heat of her arousal still coating her thighs. "It's hard to tell. This one's been... intense."
Intense. That's one word for it.
"Good," I say, settling back against the chair and pulling her with me. She curls into my side like she belongs there, all soft curves and warm skin. "That gives us time."
"Time for what?" she asks, tilting her head up to look at me.
Before I can answer, there's a sound from upstairs. Not loud, but distinct. Footsteps. Heavy ones. Moving across the floor above us.
Logan is on his feet before the sound even finishes echoing. Xavier pushes off from the wall, every muscle in his body tense and ready. And me? I'm gathering Savannah closer, one armwrapping around her waist while the other reaches for the knife I keep strapped to my thigh.
"How many?" Logan asks, voice barely above a whisper.
Xavier tilts his head, listening. His hearing has always been better than the rest of ours. "Three. Maybe four. They're trying to be quiet, but..." He shrugs. Whoever they are, they're not as sneaky as they think.
"Shit," Logan mutters, running a hand through his hair. "They must have tracked the scent."
Of course they did. Even with the storm, even with us being underground, Savannah's heat is potent enough to draw every unattached alpha within a fifty-mile radius. It's like sending up a fucking flare.
Savannah has gone very still in my arms. I can feel her heartbeat picking up, and can smell the fear starting to mix with her arousal. "What do we do?" she asks.
"We handle it," I say, and my voice comes out rougher than I intended. The idea of other alphas coming anywhere near her while she's in heat makes my alpha snarl and snap at the inside of my chest. "They're not getting near you."
Logan is already moving, checking the locks on the door, testing the hinges. "This door will hold," he says, "but not indefinitely. Not if they really want in."
The footsteps above us have stopped. Whoever they are, they're either listening or planning their next move. Neither option makes me feel particularly warm and fuzzy.
