Page 32 of Omega in Love
"Yeah." I nod, watching his expression shift. "They want you. But it's your choice, Brookes. Only yours." I emphasize the last words, needing him to understand the sincerity behind them.
His breath stutters, a momentary fracture in his composure. "What if I'm not ready?"
"Then we say no." I cup his jaw gently, thumb brushing across his cheekbone. "But if you are, even a little, you won't be alone. We'll be with you. You have Charlotte and her pack. I know Teagan will be more than happy to run point with us.All of us." I let my forehead rest against his, lowering my voice. "I'll build a goddamn perimeter around that catwalk if I have to. You'll be safe."
His throat works as he swallows, unsurety and consideration battle across his features. "I'll think about it."
"That's all we ask." The words come out softer than intended.
He leans into me again, head returning to my chest, ear pressed against my steadying heartbeat.
Lifting his chin with a gentle finger, I lean down and claim his mouth with mine. His lips part willingly, granting me access to the sweet warmth within. A soft moan vibrates against my lips, sending a shiver down my spine.
"Hero, I want you," he whispers, the words hot and desperate against my skin.
"Do you, Heart?" I murmur, tracing the curve of his jaw with my thumb. "Haven't you had enough? That pretty hole of yours should be worn out," I tease, reaching behind him to stroke my fingers between his cheeks. He's slick and ready, his body primed for mine.
Brookes hisses as I circle the tender opening, his body arching into my touch. His slickness coats my fingers, making the press of them inside him effortless. He's tight, hot, and perfect.
"I'll never be too sore to take you. Any of you." His voice is breathless, his eyes gleaming with need. "Please, Hero." He practically climbs into my arms, wrapping himself around me, his body pliant and eager.
I capture his mouth in a searing kiss, biting his bottom lip between my teeth before pulling away. "And I will never be able to tell you no," I growl, my voice rough with desire. I back him against the shower wall, the cool tiles a stark contrast to the heat of our bodies. With one powerful thrust, I plunge into his slick, welcoming heat.
Brookes clings to me, his voice hoarse from days of screaming our names. He takes everything I give him, his body yielding to mine. I fuck him hard and fast, the sound of our bodies slapping together echoing off the shower walls. He cries out in pleasure, his dick untouched but spilling over my chest, marking me with his release.
Picking up the pace, I hold him close, grinding into him, hitting that spot deep inside that makes him keen. His nails dig into my shoulders, his breath coming in ragged gasps. I feel my balls drawing up, my own release hitting me like a freight train. Leaning forward, I press my face into his neck, inhaling his sweet, rosy scent as I cum, filling him with my seed.
Breathing heavily, we both come down slowly, sharing soft, sweet kisses. I clean him up, my hands gentle and reverent as I wash away the remnants of our passion. In this stolen moment of quiet, my heart is full, content in a way I never thought possible.
"I love you, Hero," Brookes finally says as I turn off the water and take his hand in mine to help him out of the shower.
I stop and turn, not in surprise, but in relief. I think I've loved Brookes from the moment I laid eyes on the broken man. Now, I can finally say it freely, as his Alpha, as his.
"I love you more, Heart," I say, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him close once more.
I love him, he's mine, and whatever he decides going forward, that won't change.
Chapter 15
Brookes
The cursor blinks in the corner of my screen while I wait for the call to connect. I've got a hoodie on even though it's not cold, Dante's cedarwood scent cocooning me in warmth like a protective shield, and my tea's gone lukewarm in my hands. The ceramic mug feels heavy between my palms, grounding me to this moment, to this reality where I'm safe in my home with three Alphas somewhere nearby. When Dr. Kendrick's face finally appears, warm and steady as always, something in my chest unclenches.
"Morning, Brookes," he says, voice calm and even, the same tone he's used for our sessions over the past thirteen months. "You look tired, but not the usual kind. There's something different about your energy today."
I huff a soft laugh, tucking my knees closer to my chest on the oversized armchair Dante insisted on buying for my ‘therapy corner’. "Is that your professional opinion, Dr. Kendrick? You can tell my energy's different through a computer screen?"
He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling behind his wire-rimmed glasses. "Professional and personal. I've known you long enough to read between the pixels. Want to talk about it?Something significant has happened. I can see it written all over you."
I glance down into my mug, swish the liquid around like the dregs will give me courage. The tea leaves form patterns I can't interpret, swirling and settling in meaningless configurations. My reflection stares back at me, distorted in the amber surface. "My heat ended two days ago," I finally admit, the words hanging between us in the digital space. "First one in years. First one with people. . .Alphas."
Dr. Kendrick nods, his expression carefully neutral but attentive. His pen doesn't move to take notes. "How did it feel to share something so intimate after keeping it contained for so long?"
My throat tightens, constricting around words I'm still learning how to form. I swallow and force them out anyway, my voice barely above a whisper. "Overwhelming. Intense. Safe." I pause, eyes darting away from the camera, focusing instead on the small potted succulent on my windowsill. A gift from Charlotte before everything went sideways. "It didn't hurt like when I was seventeen. They were so careful with me. Definitely less traumatic. Actually, not traumatic at all."
His tone shifts, softer, anchoring me to this conversation when my mind wants to drift away. "Do you want to tell me about that one? Your first heat? We've touched on it before, but never in detail."
I don't, but I do. My fingers tighten around the mug, seeking strength from its solidity. What is therapy for if I can't tell the one person who I've spilled all my deepest darkest thoughts to? The one professional who's seen me at my lowest and never once looked at me with pity. Who's watched me piece myself back together, fragment by painful fragment.
