The plea slips out before I can stop it, my Heat-addled brain unable to filter my deepest desires. Rowan’s rhythm falters for a heartbeat, and he groans.
“The guard,” he reminds me, tight with restraint. “You still have it on.”
My fingers fly to my neck, finding the leather collar of the nape guard still in place. The contradiction of wanting his Mark while still protecting myself from it tears at me, frustration and need warring in my chest.
“Want you to.” The words come out nearly incoherent through my pants and moans. “Want your teeth. Want everyone to see your Mark.”
A growl rumbles through Rowan’s chest and into mine. His hips snap forward with renewed vigor, eachthrust driving deeper than the last. His teeth find my throat again, biting down above the collar of the guard, hard enough to leave an imprint of each tooth.
“When I claim you,” he pants against my skin, “It’ll be when you’re sure it’s what you want.”
“Please,” I beg, unsure what I’m asking for anymore. “Please, Alpha.”
Rowan’s hand slides between us to wrap around my neglected dick, stroking in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation of being filled and his hand working my dick is too much. The coil of tension in my core snaps, release tearing through me with such force it rips a scream from my raw throat.
My body convulses around him, inner walls clamping down as ropes of cum paint both our chests. The intensity of it whites out my vision, leaves me gasping and trembling in Rowan’s arms.
His rhythm grows erratic, his thrusts harder and deeper as he chases his own release. With a final, powerful thrust, his cock pulses as he fills me with his seed. His forehead drops to my shoulder, teeth grazing the skin there as he shudders through his climax.
For long moments, we stay locked together, bodies joined, breath mingling in the quiet kitchen. My limbs feel leaden, muscles trembling withexhaustion. Three days of Heat have taken their toll, each wave leaving me more drained than the last.
Rowan recovers first, easing from my body. His arms slide beneath my knees and back, lifting me from the island with surprising gentleness. I curl into his chest, face tucking into the crook of his neck as he carries me back to the bedroom.
The sheets welcome us, cooling our overheated skin. Rowan lays me down with care, climbing in beside me. His arm wraps around my waist, pulling me back against his chest in a position that’s become familiar over the past three days.
“Rest,” he murmurs, brushing aside the sweat-dampened hair at my temple. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
My eyelids grow heavy, the brief respite between Heat waves pulling me toward sleep. The last thing I register before succumbing is the steady beat of Rowan’s heart.
When the fever passes for good, it leaves me with an aching body, bone-deep exhaustion, and a clarity that’s almost painful after days of Heat-fueled madness.
Turning my head requires effort, the muscles in my neck protesting the movement. Rowan lies beside me, his chest rising and falling in the deep, steady rhythm of sleep.
I lift a hand to my collarbone, fingers tracing the constellation of bruises Rowan left there. Each mark throbs under my touch, a reminder of his mouth, his teeth, and his possession. Similar marks dot my shoulders, my chest, and my inner thighs, a map written in purple and red across my skin.
The nape guard remains in place, though the leather is worn at the edges from Rowan’s teeth testing the boundaries. He never removed it, even when I begged him in the throes of Heat-madness.
My hips bear the imprints of his fingers, five points of pressure on each side where he gripped me, held me, positioned me. The bruises there are almost black on my pale skin, badges that make my stomach flip with a strange pride.
I shift, and a twinge between my legs reminds me how thoroughly I’ve been claimed, used, filled. Dried slick and cum cling to my inner thighs, evidence of countless rounds over the past three days. The sheets beneath me will need to be burned rather than washed.
For most of my life, control has been survival.Walls built, vulnerabilities hidden behind discipline and distance. Heat stripped it all away, leaving nothing but instinct and need, exposing every raw, unfiltered piece of me to Rowan. The desperation. The hunger that drove me to beg, to submit, to offer my throat to his teeth when higher thought gave way to biology.
I should be ashamed of my loss of control.
Instead, I feel lighter.
For three days, I surrendered myself to Rowan. Let him feed me, clean me, and hold me through the worst of it, and not once did he cross the boundaries we set when I was clear-headed. Even when I begged him to remove the guard and Mark me, he refused, choosing my autonomy over my Heat-driven pleas.
This wasn’t the subjugation I’ve feared since presenting as Omega. This was a partnership in its most elemental form.
As I turn onto my side, the movement sends sharp reminders through overworked muscles as Rowan stirs in his sleep, his arm tightening around my waist to draw me closer. Months ago, the possessive gesture would have had me bristling and shoving him away.
Now, I’m safe enough to lean into it.
Over the last several months, Rowan has always waited for my consent.
Always let me decide when to step forward.
