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“You hate it,” I said.

“Obviously, I hate it,” Vincent muttered. “Obviously, it makes me want to shake him. Punch him, even.”

“You’re not attracted to me now,” I said. “Or it makes you feel like I’m his, like I can only ever be his—”

“Omega,” Vincent cut in, his tone deep and black like the river in darkness. It took me over, that dark, rushing-river tone. “You never have to worry about how much I want you. Nothing could stop me from wanting you.”

I gasped. I turned to look at him, and our faces were close, and our bodies were connected, and… “Kiss me.”

“I want to,” he said.

“You’re not going to kiss me?” I said.

“This is not our first kiss, Leo,” he said.

“You’re knotted into me!” I protested. “You just fucked me.”

“Yeah, but under duress,” he said. “If this is going to happen with us, it’s not happening like this. This is what you had with Damian, something that came and washed over you, taking you over, settled before you even knew what had happened. I want you to choose me.”

Maybe that was nice, actually.

“Just…” He ran his hands over my hips. “Relax. And after my knot goes down, you can go back home and get some rest, and we’ll, uh, we’ll deal with the fallout of this in the morning.”

I sagged into him. I wanted to relax. Everything about Vincent seemed to make it easier to relax.

“Damian’s never going to fucking forgive me,” he muttered. “Nailing you? In wolf form? He’s, um, he’s never going to speak to me again. Of course, maybe I don’t care, because I’m so angry with him about the way he fucking mutilated you.”

“Mutilated?” I repeated.

Vincent kissed my temple. “You’re beautiful, Leo. Shh. I’m sorry I said that.”

I sighed, turning my head to bury it against his neck. “Maybe we just don’t tell Damian.””

“Yeah.” He stroked my hair, soothing me. “Maybe we don’t. This can just be something that happened in the dark of the night, during the madness of your prolonged heat, and it doesn’t have to mean anything. You can forget about it. We can go on like it didn’t happen.”

Was that what I wanted? “I thought you wanted me to choose you.” I yawned.

“I do,” he whispered. “And if you don’t choose me, Leo, I will not keep coming after you. If you want to be free, I will fight with my last breath to give you freedom.”

“Vincent, oh, Vincent.” Was I feeling so besotted with him because his knot felt so nice in me? Or because of how it had felt when he told me he loved me? Or because of how he was shaped? Or because of how he’d never quit a board game if I wanted to keep playing? Or because of the way his rough wolf tongue had felt as it drove me to a fevered climax? I rubbed my forehead against his neck. “I choose you.” I yawned again.

He let out a long, low sigh. “You get some rest and we’ll talk, okay? I’m not holding you to a damned thing you say right now.”

I burrowed into him. “I’m sleepy,” I said.

“Are you going to fall asleep on my knot, Leo?” He sounded turned on by that.

“No,” I said, yawning again. “No, just resting, that’s all. Relaxing, like you said.” I snuggled in against his warmth. “Your knot feels nice.”

“Yeah, well, your pussy feels nice,” he said.

I giggled sleepily, yawning again.

I felt wrapped up in warmth and sweetness and everything good in the world.

I fell asleep on his knot.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR