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It’s not a gentle kiss, nor a routine one. It’s a kiss of possession, of claiming, and I want him to claim me. With Ashton, I don’t have to restrain myself. I don’t fear hurting him. With Ashton, I can utterly lose myself, so, in this moment, I surrender to him.
The cold air encircles us, but Ashton’s body is a furnace against mine. His tongue invades my mouth, spreading a wave of heat through me. When he grips the back of my neck, I melt into him, yielding to his touch.
Seizing control of the kiss, I press him against the side of the house. A moan escapes, blending our breaths—his, mine, it doesn’t matter. His teeth catch my lip, his canines sharp though lacking the venom to create a mating bond, but they draw blood.
I pull back with a hiss, meeting his gaze. His eyes blaze with that ethereal glow, and in that suspended moment, something shifts between us. A barrier we’ve long maintained crumbles, and I realize that if he asked me to leave Terra with him now, I wouldn’t refuse.
He won’t ask, not now. Not after my confession about having siblings I’ve never met and won’t dare to meet—not until my father is gone. Even then, the prospect of meeting them is daunting, filled with uncertainties.
Where does that leave us? Standing here, in the biting cold, with a passion that defies the complexities of our lives, I’m left pondering the future—our future, which seems more uncertain than ever.
CHAPTER 27
Seraphina
I’min a state of stasis that exists outside the boundaries of linear time and space, as if I’m floating somewhere else, bracing for my impending heat. This preheat stasis is probably the absolute worst. I’ve heard some omegas say the week after, with the inevitable cycle, is even worse, where our uterus throws a fit because it didn’t get to grow a baby. I’ve never been through it, but I’m now officially thankful heats only happen one to two times a year.
But I digress.
The week leading up to a heat is a tangle of cramps and an intense need to satisfy those cramps. Here I am, standing in the enormous kitchen, mixing cake batter with more vigor than necessary. Chocolate splatters across the countertop in a messy array.
Avery glances up at me, his lashes fluttering over sly, amused eyes. He’s methodically placing little cupcake papers in the tins.
“Don’t say a word,” I warn him, my tone more grumbly than I intended.
He pushes the tin aside, leaning on the countertop with a playful smile. “What’s wrong?” he asks, trying to sound innocent.
Echoing his words with frustration, I ask, “What’s wrong?” In a sudden burst of irritation, I throw the whisk into the bowl, surprising myself with an involuntary growl. “I didn’t even realize I was capable of that,” I mutter under my breath. “This entire waiting game is nothing but torture.”
“What, exactly, is torture?” he probes, his voice laced with caution.
“Waiting,” I admit, whining a bit, and perhaps it’s because, for the first time, I’m genuinely excited about a heat. The thought of spending a week knotted in a room with four incredible men is tantalizing.
Avery barely suppresses his amusement, but luckily, the back door swings open at that moment. Devlin and Ashton walk in, both looking flushed and somewhat guilty.
“You two look like you were up to something,” I accuse, my irritation increasing. They’ve definitely been doing something secretive.
Avery leans to the side, a knowing smirk on his face. Their bond is a dead giveaway. He knows exactly what they’ve been doing. “Snowmen, huh? You better not have been building snowmen without us.”
“I promised Seraphina sledding,” Max comments, seemingly lost in his own world in the corner of the kitchen. He’s half hidden behind his laptop, with glasses perched on the tip of his nose. They are not for vision, but to shield his eyes from the screen’s glare.
I peer outside, and a whimsical thought strikes me. “I want to build a snowman.” I contemplate timing the cupcakes with my outdoor adventure. “Can it be a she? I want to make her an omega.”
“My love, you can do whatever the hell you want,” Avery responds with a playful tone, dipping his finger into the cake batter and seductively licking it off.
I have never felt such intense jealousy toward a finger. The sight of his tongue darting out sends a surge of heat coursing through me, igniting a fiery response within.
It’s as though my entire focus narrows down to that finger, his tongue, and I’m engulfed in the fantasy of feeling his tongue on every inch of my body. The thought is tantalizing, forbidden yet irresistibly sexy, and I’m well aware that my internal musings are spiraling into a deliciously salacious territory.
“Oh hell,” Ashton groans, a note of concern in his voice. “Can you smell her?”
Do I smell? I subtly sniff the air, but my gaze remains fixated on Avery and his finger.
My body responds with an involuntary shudder, and all I can detect is the sweet, heady scent of arousal, thick in the air. Licking my lips, I bite down gently, feeling the slickness within me.
“Oh,” I murmur, realization dawning. A wave of heat radiates from my core, pulsing rhythmically, but unlike before, it’s not painful. Far from it. This sensation is delectably pleasurable. “I think…” I pause, savoring the taste in the air. “This is it.”
The moment the thought flickers through my mind, it dissipates, leaving me in a muddled, hazy state. My core pulses with insatiable need, a deep, throbbing desire that demands to be satisfied immediately.
