Page 69 of Pack Owned
Frustration knots my stomach in a tight ball. No amount of me messing around with myself is gonna fix this. It’s like someone punched a hole in my chest, and the emptiness is just…suffocating.
“Fuck this.” My voice echoes off the walls, tinged with an edge of desperation. I kill the water, cutting off the stream, but even wrapped in the chill of the air, my skin still simmers, reminding me that the shower was nothing more than a temporary reprieve.
I need to get out of here. I need... What? I don’t even know anymore. All I know is the burning deep in my core and spreading to my pussy won’t stop—not without something I’m not sure I’m ready to give into yet.
Stepping out of the shower, droplets racing down my skin, I grab a towel, rough against my oversensitive skin, and pat myself dry. It’s a useless effort; the moisture seems to rise from within, a sheen that won’t be tamed. There’s an urgencythrumming through my veins, pushing me toward... I push away the thought.
I can’t be going into heat. Maybe I’m getting sick or something.
Clothes. I need clothes, but when I pick up a soft cotton tee, it feels like sandpaper on my fingertips. The leggings might as well be chains. Everything’s too tight, too confining. My breath hitches as I drop them, my nakedness less vulnerable than the thought of being trapped in fabric.
“Kayla? You okay in there?” Ryker’s voice is a low rumble through the door, wrapping around me. His scent lingers in the air—leather and something darker, something wild. It does things to me, things that make my heart race and my body ache for his touch.
“Fine,” I lie without missing a beat, even as my voice betrays a tremor I can’t control.
“Doesn’t sound like it,” he counters. There’s a shadow of concern in his words but also something else—something predatory. He knows. Of course, he does.
“Go away, Ryker.” It’s meant to sound defiant, but desperation edges every syllable. I wrap the towel around me tighter, a flimsy barrier against my body wanting to rub myself all over him.
“Kayla, let me in.”
I’m unraveling fast, and Ryker—damn him—might be the only one who knows how to stitch me back together.
The lock clicks, and I barely get the towel hitched around me to keep it from falling when Ryker’s frame fills the doorway. There’s no mistaking that hard edge to his eyes, the way his gaze rakes over me like he’s peeling back layers and sees right through me. He inhales sharply, and I see his nostrils flare, scenting the air.
“Your Heat,” he states, his voice rough like gravel. “It’s coming on.”
“Ridiculous.” I clutch the towel tighter to me. My skin prickles with heat that isn’t from the shower but has everything to do with the Alpha in front of me and primal need.
Liquid heat pools low in my belly, and my knees nearly buckle. I stumble and he reaches out, steadying me by my arm. The contact sends shockwaves through my system, jolting me with the urge to cling harder. I’m torn between pushing away from the heat of his body and wanting to rub myself against him to relieve the relentless ache that’s building inside me.
I gasp.
“Easy,” Ryker soothes, or maybe it’s a growl—I can’t tell anymore—and he doesn’t let go of my arm.
My body betrays me, leaning into his chest, and a purr tickles in my throat.
“I’m fine. I don’t need your help,” I manage to say, even as my voice wavers with the force of the heat clawing at my insides.
“Kayla.” Ryker’s tone is firm, his gaze locking onto mine with an unyielding intensity that sends delicious shivers through me. “I’ll do whatever you want, but you need to understand—your heat will only get worse if you don’t find release.”
“I already tried that,” I sigh, frustration making my words sharp as broken glass. “It didn’t work.” The confession burns on my tongue, the admission of my failed attempt at self-pleasure adding to the humiliation of my situation.
Ryker’s lips twist into a grin, one that’s all predator, and my heart does a little flip. It’s a look that says he knows exactly what I’m going through and has every intention of taking the reins—if I let him.
“Trust me,” he murmurs, voice low and with an undercurrent of something dangerous and alluring. “It’s different when someone else, an Alpha, gives you a hand… or more.”
Breath catches in my throat. Logic and reason start to blur at the edges, consumed by the fire that threatens to overwhelm every sense, every thought.
“R-Ryker...” My voice trembles.
His hand, warm and steady, brushes a stray lock of hair from my forehead, leaving a trail of tingles in its wake.
“Let me help you, Kayla.” It’s not just an offer—it’s a vow that makes tingles spread through me down to my toes.
Every fiber of my being screams for relief, for the promise of escape from the relentless ache. I have to do something because I feel like I’m being torn apart, starting at my pussy.
CHAPTER 23
