Clearing "Kai" of any association with such crimes was barely an afterthought.
Just a newly bonded Alpha protecting his Omega from unknown threats.
Case closed.
Move along.
Nothing to see here.
The best getaway any of us could have asked for.
"We'll get the car ready," Jett says, pulling me back to the present moment. His hand squeezes my hip once—gentle, grounding—before he releases me and moves toward the door. "So we're not late dropping off our sweet dancer."
"But don't take all day and night," Blaze adds, following Jett with a knowing grin thrown over his shoulder.
Kai huffs.
The sound is pure irritation.
"I'll take my time if I want."
A giggle escapes me—that high, bright sound that means my brain is fully back online and processing the absurdity of my Alphas bickering about sexual scheduling.
I move toward Kai.
My legs are steadier now—not by much, but enough to cross the space between us without falling. My arms wrap around his waist, pressing my body against his, feeling the tension radiating through his muscles.
"Don't cause a fuss," I murmur against his chest, tilting my head back to look up at him.
His dark gold eyes meet mine—burning with want and frustration and the particular brand of intensity that is uniquely Kai.
Then he's kissing me.
Deep.
Claiming.
The kind of kiss that says mine and finally and I've been waiting and I'm done waiting.
His hands find my waist, lifting me effortlessly—I'm small enough that all of them can do this, but Kai makes it look particularly easy. My legs wrap around him automatically as he carries me toward the bed, our mouths never separating.
The mattress is soft beneath my back as he lays me down.
Gentle.
Reverent.
Treating me like something precious despite the fact that I'm thoroughly used and covered in the evidence of three previous rounds.
He pulls back just enough to look at me—really look, his gaze traveling over my flushed face, my disheveled hair, my body spread out before him like an offering.
His hands move to his belt.
Unbuckling.
The leather slides free with a whisper of sound that makes my breath catch. Then he's opening his pants, freeing his cock—already hard, already leaking, evidence that he's been suffering through business calls while knowing exactly what was happening upstairs.
"Fuck," he breathes, and the word is half curse, half prayer. "Being patient was driving me fucking mad today."
