Malcolm’s expression softens. “No. I won’t claim you. You’re not ready to make that decision, and I’m not going to pressure you. There’s no obligation. This is just help for your heat. That’s it, Vee. After this, if you never want to bond with us, we’ll respect it. But you need care. You know you do.”
I press my forehead to my knees. I can barely keep my thoughts straight, but they keep coming anyway.
The registry. That cold, endless white hallway. The beta nurse who wouldn’t meet my eyes. How the walls smelled like nothing and no one.
Ragon’s house. Hearing Eli in that room with Marie. Drake promising, “We’ll focus on you after, I swear,” while I stood stoic. Ragon’s order for me to watch while he ruined my nest. The sound of my crying.
I used to think it was normal. I used to think it was fine, that omega life meant waiting in the dark for someone to decide you mattered.
But right now… Malcolm’s scent is everywhere, steady and grounding. His purr is low and rumbling, even when he isn’t speaking. It vibrates through my bones, softer than the pain, but everywhere. I realize I’m leaning toward him without even thinking about it, like my body already knows what it needs. There’s a pull in my chest, a connection so sharp and deep it’s almost frightening. I remember in flashes when I realized whohe was to me… whotheywere. I remember the feeling that bloomed inside me when I imprinted on them. Not a full bond, just my omega recognizing her mates. I wonder if this is what Ragon and the others felt, back when they first saw Marie. That instant belonging. Longing. Lust and desire dancing inside their chests. A sense of peace.
It doesn’t make anything okay. Not what Ragon’s pack did, or Alex’s. Or what I’m feeling right now. What Iwantto do. But for now, Malcolm is better than the registry. And anything is better than Ragon.
I swallow hard. “I want you and Finn.” The sound is barely a whisper.
Another cramp hits and the whine that escapes me is pure omega distress. My thighs are slick. The ache between my legs is so intense it borders on pain.
Malcolm doesn't move closer. He's waiting for permission.
I should tell him to leave. I should demand answers. I should do anything except what I'm about to do.
But the heat doesn't care about pride.
"Please." The word tastes like surrender.
Malcolm moves. He shifts fully onto the bed and reaches for me. His hands are warm and sure. When he pulls me into his lap my whole body sags with relief.
His scent wraps around me. His purr moves deep in his chest. It caresses my spine and makes every muscle loosen. The cramps don't disappear but they ease enough that I can breathe.
He keeps going, the rumble warm and deep, and I don’t realize I’m moving until I’m crawling into his lap, my thighs straddling his. His fingers splay across my waist, calloused thumbs grazing the hollow of my hipbones. The sound I make when his scent hits me full force is embarrassing, but I don’t stop.
He strokes my back, up under the thin nightgown, and I shiver. My skin is on fire. I want more. I want everything.
“You need it, don’t you?” His voice is rough, not mocking. He sounds almost pained.
I nod, gasping when his hands slide lower, squeezing my ass. “Malcolm, I want you to…” Words are hard. My brain is a haze of want.
He doesn’t make me finish. He flips me easily, so I’m on my back, and then he’s covering me, mouth hot and wet on my throat. He bites, not breaking skin, just enough to make my hips jerk against his.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, and I whimper, arching up. His cock is hard against my leg. I want it inside me so bad I almost cry.
He slides a hand between my legs and groans when he feels how slick I am. “You’re dripping for it.” His fingers push inside, two at once, and I can hear the wet noises. I don’t care. I want him deeper.
I rake my nails down his chest, over the muscles, digging in. He shudders. When I do it again, harder, he growls, grabbing my wrists and pinning them above my head.
“You want my knot?” he asks. It’s not really a question.
“Yes, Malcolm.”
His cock pushes against me, thick and hot. He slides in slowly, stretching me, and I moan so loud I barely recognize my own voice. It hurts and it doesn’t. It’s perfect.
He fucks me slow at first, hips rocking. I claw at his back, desperate, and he nips at my throat, just on the edge of pain.
His knot pops inside and I scream. My body clenches. He grinds against me until we’re locked together, pulsing inside me, filling me with thick, hot liquid. I come so hard my breath stutters, my vision going white at the edges.
He rolls us, so I’m on top, still locked, and his hands are everywhere. Palming my breasts, squeezing my hips, guiding me to grind on him as it starts to ease. I do, helpless to stop, sobbing his name.
He never lets up, not even when his arms start to shake with exhaustion. He fucks me through every wave, every aftershock, filling me over and over. His knot stretches me wide every time and I love it. I beg for it.
