Deep in my core, something brittle unravels. It loosens and untangles, flapping free for a moment before crossing over itself. It softens as it moves, becoming supple and malleable. It happens over and under. A cord, a rope, looped and tied, and pulled tight. My knot forms the same way our kiss happened. Gradually. Naturally. Like something that was always meant to happen.
Jensen’s body stills as I swell inside him. His eyes stretch wide and his mouth drops open from the intensity of the sensation. His pupils are black and blown out completely, but his focus is fixed and true, aimed straight at me. We move like water over river rocks. A slow dance to music only we can hear.
The sounds Jensen makes are beautiful. Hungry and mournful and euphoric at the same time. He thrashes in my arms, movements becoming jerky as my knot fuses us together.
His hands travel up his own body, his fingers clawing at his arms and chest and finally coming to rest at the base of his throat. He places one hand on the back of my neck, pulling me close to him as his other hand clutches the choker.
His teeth grit, lips pulling back in a smile that’s half snarl as he bucks and writhes in my arms. He struggles with the necklace, his head arching back deeply as the muscle in his forearm dents from exertion. His hips rock, his body grinding against mine as a surge of power rips through him. There’s a quickchinkof metal as platinum links come apart. Diamonds break free of their bindings and scatter, crystalized carbon rolling down his chest.
His throat is exposed, his head thrown back and tilted to the side. A submissive pose. An omega offering their alpha everything they’ve ever wanted.
I’ve never seen anything I like more.
I’ve never seen anything I want more.
My gums itch and my heart slams in my chest as instinct sinks its claws in me.
“Alpha,” he says, voice eerily calm, “I want you to bite me.”
I’d love to savor the moment, to take stock of my surroundings and memorize every detail about them, but my omega has spoken, and I’m powerless to resist him.
I trail my nose from the shell of his ear down to his clavicle, inhaling loudly and reveling in the heady scent of my mate. His scent gland pulses from my proximity, and I kiss it lightly. A dusting of lips and a gentle roll of my tongue. Jensen moans loudly and clenches hotly around my knot. The pleasure it delivers is indescribable, and it’s also more. More than this place. More than this time. Certainty travels up my legs and chest, straight to my heart.
This is it.
This is my moment.
I hold on to Jensen tightly and bare my teeth as I arch back before my head slams forward without warning. My teeth sink in, canines piercing soft, smooth skin. There’s a blinding light. An extraordinary burst of otherworldly taste. And then an explosion detonates inside me. Every color under the sun roars into being.
My chest is cleaved open. It’s agony and ecstasy. The bond tunnels into my chest and buries itself deep in my soul. Tendrils and vines of connection sink into me, weaving themselves into everything that’s ever mattered and making all of it better. A light golden arch forms, spilling out of me in a thick gush as it barrels toward my mate.
The moment isn’t mine anymore, and it isn’t Jensen’s either. It’s the most beautiful thing that’s ever happened, and it’s ours.
34
Jensen
Alfiekissesmegoodmorning and the bond between us glimmers warmly in response. A bright rosy red radiates from my chest to his. He smiles, leaning down as he drops feather-light kisses all over my face.
“Good morning, my mate.”
“Good morning, alpha.” I giggle, squirming in pleasure.
Alfie looks good all the time. That’s a fact that’s been established pretty much since I arrived in England. He’s a very, very good-looking man. There’s no getting away from that. But the way he looks in the morning, unshaved, with messy hair and skin that’s warm from sleep, is something else altogether.
He strokes a lock of hair out of my face and inhales deeply. His eyes flutter closed as our combined scent hits his olfactory region. I know from personal experience that it’s a scent so intoxicating and delectable that even a slight sniff can render one completely lightheaded.
He takes a moment to recover, and then says, “Did you sleep well?”
“Hmm.” I wriggle my shoulders and hips to shift myself under him, “I can’t say I remember all that much sleeping.”
My body still bears the odd ache from my heat—some parts more than others—though I’m mostly recovered now. The delirium and frenzy that followed our mating have lifted. We’ve been clear-minded, or something like it, for a few days.
To say that Alfie is a doting mate is quite the understatement. He’s yet to let me out of bed and hasn’t allowed me to do anything remotely taxing for myself. And by taxing, I mean things like feeding myself or turning a page of the book I’m reading. He’s waited on me hand and foot, and while I’d like to dissuade him from his excessive concern about my well-being, every time I try to tell him that I like doing things for myself, the bond between us sparks vivid white.
White for a white lie. Or “White for a porky pie,” as my lord likes to say.
Left with no better option, I’ve accepted my fate and have started relishing the attention instead of fighting it. It’s just as well because I find it impossible to resist him. I’m so ridiculously in love with him that I can hardly bring myself to blink because I can’t stand the thought of not seeing him, even for a split second. If I heard of anyone else being this whipped, I’d be absolutely disgusted.
