And for the first time in my life, I trust that someone will be there to help me put the pieces back together.
When the sobs finally quiet, when my breathing steadies, when I can form words again, I look up.
At my pack.
My Alphas.
Mine.
"Thank you," I whisper.
One-two-three-four.
One-two-three-four.
The counting is gentler now.
Less desperate.
More... rhythmic.
Like a heartbeat.
Like the pulse of something new.
"Thank you for coming back for me."
Epilogue: Coming Back For Me…Always
~SERAPHINE~
The world spins in a way that has nothing to do with the aerial ring and everything to do with the orgasm tearing through me like lightning, like fire, like every nerve ending in my body has been lit from the inside.
My fingers dig into Blaze's shoulders—too hard, probably bruising, definitely desperate—as my body convulses around him, suspended thirty feet above the plush nest floor in a position that should be impossible but somehow works when you've got circus-trained Alphas and a dancer's flexibility.
"Fuck," I gasp, the word barely audible over the sound of our combined breathing.
Blaze groans beneath me—or above me, depending on perspective when you're twisted around an aerial ring like some kind of erotic pretzel. His cock pulses inside me as he reaches his own peak, fingers gripping my hips with bruising intensity, and the heat of his release sends another shudder through my already over sensitized system.
We hang there.
Literally.
Bodies intertwined in silk and steel, sweat making our skin slide together, both of us completely breathless and thoroughly satisfied.
The ring sways gently with our combined weight, creating a rocking motion that prolongs the aftershocks rippling through my core. My thighs are shaking—actually trembling with the effort of maintaining this position—and there's a particular burn in my muscles that suggests tomorrow is going to be absolutely brutal.
Worth it, though.
Completely worth it.
"Well," Blaze says, voice rough and satisfied, "that's one way to stretch out sore muscles."
I huff.
The sound is half-laugh, half-complaint, emerging between gasps as I try to remember how breathing works.
"I'm going to be more sore," I manage, my head dropping forward to rest against his shoulder. "Not less. You realize that, right?"
