Page 224 of Knot Their Soldier: Part Three

"Mmm, feels good," I let myself utter. I don't hold back any words of encouragement when we're like this, because Blaze is a void; eternally hungry for validation.

Forming our Pack hasn’t fixed Blaze, because Blaze is not fixable.

Loving us, loving Halley, has given him more access to his softer side, the part of him that aches for touch, praise, and connection with a need that never seems to ease, but it hasn’t erased the rest.

That darkness will never go away because it’s part of him.

Blaze is fractured in ways our love cannot mend cleanly. His childhood broke pieces of him, then his adolescence as an assassin broke more, and his adulthood spent in war finished him off.

After missions, especially bloody ones, he comes home half-mad with it, craving pain, impact, affection, anything intense enough to match the chaos in his head. It can take days for him to reorganize the maelstrom in his mind. When he finally crawls into the nest, sometimes there are fresh white scars carved into his skin, and it hurts me to my soul to see them, but I understand. They help him come back to us.

The people of the fortress don't approach him. They're smart enough to keep their distance, but sometimes they get caught in the crosshairs. Just last week, he stabbed an Alpha through the shoulder for taking too long in the food line.

That is Blaze.

Loved, cherished, wanted, and still profoundly unhinged.

I press him back with a palm against his chest, and he lets me.

"Go to our Pack den," I say quietly.

Blaze hesitates for half a breath.

I keep my hand against his chest and hold his gaze. "That wasn’t a suggestion, baby boy."

His throat works. Then he nods.

"Yes, Daddy."

The words come out rough, but obedience follows them. He releases his grip on our cocks, his hand glistening with our combined pre-come and my spit, turns, and walks the rest of the way down the corridor. It’s a mercy our quarters are close, because neither of us is prepared to be seen by the general population of Blackgate right now. Blaze's cock is still hard and aching, hanging out of his open trousers, and I'm not in a much better state.

When he reaches for the door handle, I catch his wrist before he can shove it open.

He freezes instantly.

I lift one finger to my lips. "Quiet. We don’t wake Halley."

At the mention of Halley, his eyes widen, and his hand pulls away from the door. Even like this, he remembers that protecting our Omega comes before everything else.

Always.

He nods, slower this time, then turns the knob with careful control. The old latch barely clicks, but the floorboards still creak under our weight as we slip into the living space, and Blaze scowls like he’s personally offended the wood is trying to wake up his precious Sparkles.

I toe off my boots, then point to his.

'Off,' I tell him through the bond. It's a handy trick for moments like these when speaking aloud isn't possible.

I cross to the couch and sink onto the soft, worn cushions, spreading my thighs.

Blaze looks at the space between my knees, then back at my face.

I raise an eyebrow.

A second later, one of the most dangerous Alphas alive is kneeling at my feet with his hands resting on his thighs, waiting for permission.

I have to steady my breathing when I see him kneeling at my feet, holding all that strength under control and submitting to me.

I reach down and stroke my thumb over his cheek. Blaze leans into the touch with a low, needy sound that goes straight through my chest and settles there.