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And it works.

My knot swells, and I slam forward one last time, hips jerking as it locks.

A deep, tight seal.

I grind in with a low, guttural moan and spill inside her.

I don’t stop until she’s full. Marked. Claimed.

“Mine,” I growl into her throat. “Fucking mine.”

She shudders beneath me, eyes fluttering, legs still trembling over my shoulders, overstimulated and perfect. Her fingers grip at my back like she’s hanging on for dear life.

I lower her legs gently - careful, steady - and press a kiss to each knee like I didn’t just wreck her into next week. Then I pull her into my chest, still knotted, still buried inside her, and wrap her up like the goddamn treasure she is.

She clings to me in return, strong and fierce.

No whimpers. No weakness.

Just fire.

And fuck, I love the burn.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Rhea

Nobody told me it could feel this good.

Why did nobody tell me it could feel this good?!

There should be a book. An omega orientation video. A warning label, at least.

Because I’m currently lying under approximately 200 pounds of sleeping Alpha, knotted like a damn prize pelt, and all I can think is:Huh. This is the happiest I've ever been while partially impaled.

Ash is still inside me. Literally. Knot and all. He’s heavy - alpha blanket levels of heavy - and radiating heat like a sentient furnace with excellent biceps. His arms are wrapped around my shoulders like I might float away without them. His head’s bowed against my neck, breathing even, like he passed out mid-claim and forgot to set an alarm.

Which is fine. I can’t feel my legs anyway.

Every time I shift, there’s a fresh littlezing- pressure and stretch and aftershocks of something that feels dangerously close to round two.

Not that I’m complaining. Not out loud, at least.

Internally? I’m complaining a lot.

And then I realize what’s sticking to my skin.

Lucian’s shirt.

The same one I’ve been wearing like a post-orgasm souvenir.

It’s soaked now - sweat, slick, and about four types of alpha scent - but I didn’t take it off. Ash didn’t take it off. He just shoved it up and handled business like a man on a mission.

A mission with his dick.

It should feel wrong, but it doesn’t.

I don’t have to choose. I don’twantto choose.

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