Page 35 of A Murderous Omega

Oh, baby. “Lark,” I murmured. Her eyes traced over the water that dripped down my chest, catching on the towel wrapped around my waist. Lilac and vanilla filled the room as she perfumed.

“I don’t know what to—” she wailed, yanking on her hair with frustration. “My body is— I want⁠—”

“You need a knot,” I said firmly. “And we’re going to give you ours. We can do it out here if you want, if you’re willing to leave your nest.”

“No,” she snapped. “You come here. Both of you.”

I walked up to the edge of the bed where she knelt, and I cupped her face in my hands. “It’s our honor to knot you, our mate, our pleasure to give you what you crave. Let us worship you.”

Her eyes flicked between Emile and I, and not for the first time, my heart broke for this omega and everything she’d survived, everything that had made her distrust alphas, distrust men. I shoved down my guilt about adding to her trauma by drugging and kidnapping her. It had been the only way then, but now we had a chance to fix it.

Our perfect, violent omega was going into heat, and she’d invited us to help.

“We won’t abuse this gift you’re giving us, sweet girl,” Emile said, covering my hands with his own and turning her gaze toward his.

Lark took one shuddering breath after another, clearly terrified.

“Promise?” she whispered, her eyes wide and childlike, as if our words were worth something to her.

“Promise.”

Lark nodded, her eyes watery, and she scooted backwards, tugging us toward her.

“Can we come in?” I asked her.

Lark bit her full bottom lip and nodded.

“Use your words, little one,” Emile told her.

She inhaled sharply, her eyes darting over my naked form, then Emile’s.

“Baby?”

“Please, alphas, come into my nest.”

Fucking finally. When I accidentally dislodged one of Emile’s old sweatshirts as I climbed in, she gasped, and I swore. “Sorry, baby. Do you want to fix it, or do you want me to?”

She darted around me, tucking the garment back into its place. Emile was more careful, and after a moment, the three of us knelt in the bed together.

“I can’t think,” she quietly confessed. “I hate that I have to trust you, that you’re going to claim me, and I can’t⁠—”

Emile dragged her against him in a hug. “You don’t. We can leave you with toys, sweet girl, and walk out of this room, and stand guard until your heat is over.”

She shook her head vehemently. “I don’t want that either.”

Lark doubled over in pain, clutching her abdomen, and we both surged toward her, as if holding her could protect her from an unsatisfied heat.

“Knots,” she growled. “I need your knots.”

My lips curved up in a slow smile. “Then we’ll give them to you, omega. First, we need to get you ready for us.”

I laid her back on the bed, lifting her hands above her head as Emile spread her legs. We lay on either side of her, stroking her soft skin, marveling at the gift she was giving us.

Emile bent his head to take her nipple in his mouth, pumping it with his hand as he sucked. I did the same, until our gorgeous little omega writhed on the bed between us.

“Mon Dieu, these pretty tits were made to be marked,” Emile murmured against her skin. “I’m going to cover them in bruises, so you never forget who you belong to.”

“Please,” she begged. “Don’t make me wait.”