Chapter 8: Knot Happening Again: Chapter 8

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, my hands shaking as I smooth down the light beige dress I’ve chosen for today. It’s comfortable, fitted perfectly to my curves, and makes me feel confident—or at least, it usually does. Today, I’m not sure anything could quell the nervous energy thrumming through my veins.

The telltale ache of an impending heat pulses through my body, even sharper and more insistent than I remember. I stopped taking my suppressants last night, and it’s like my body is making up for lost time, hurtling toward heat with alarming speed.

‘You’ve got this, Ophelia,’ I mutter to myself, but the words ring hollow. I know this heat is going to be worse than before. I can just tell. Like my body has been racking up years of debt to pay.

I spritz on some scent masker, knowing full well it’s a futile effort. Without suppressants, I smell like an omega in full-blown heat, no matter what I do.

And for once, that’s exactly what I am.

But hey, a girl can dream, right?

My phone buzzes, and for a heart-stopping moment, I think it’s Rhys canceling. Maybe they’ve figured out what I do for a living. Or maybe Troy convinced them that a broken omega isn’t worth the trouble. I can almost hear the cocky alpha’s voice, dripping with disdain.

‘Do we really want to deal with her baggage?’

But to my surprise, it’s not a cancellation at all. It’s Rhys, asking for my address so he can send a car. I blink at the screen, momentarily stunned.

A car?

Who even does that anymore?

I send him my address, then quickly fire off a text to Natalie.

Her response is immediate.

I roll my eyes, a smile tugging at my lips despite my nerves. Leave it to Nat to make light of the situation.

The car arrives promptly, a sleek black vehicle that screams ‘money.’ The driver, a harmless and pleasant-looking older beta, greets me with a warm smile. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Thompson. May I take your bag?’

I hand over my overnight bag, suddenly feeling self-conscious about how little I’ve packed. ‘That’s all I’m bringing,’ I say, trying to sound nonchalant.

He doesn’t bat an eye, just opens the door for me with a flourish. As I slide into the plush leather seat, I catch a whiff of my own scent amplified tenfold by my impending heat. If the driver notices, he’s too polite to say anything.

We pull away from my apartment building, leaving behind the familiar streets of the city. I watch as the scenery changes, buildings giving way to manicured lawns and sprawling estates. My eyes widen as we enter a neighborhood that’s painfully familiar.

The kind of place I used to call home, before…

I rub the mark on my neck absently, memories of my old life flashing through my mind. The parties, the designer clothes, the carefree laughter. And then, just as quickly, the sneers and whispers when news of my disgrace spread. The way my own family turned their backs on me, unable to bear the shame of a partly marked omega.

If I had come clean and told them who marked me, things might have been different, but not better. Leon’s family would have dragged his ass back home and forced him to finish the mark, but that would have been another kind of bondage. I would have spent the rest of my life shackled to an alpha who saw me as nothing but a burden. An iron weight keeping him from achieving all the dreams that clearly didn’t include me.

The car slows, and I look up to see we’ve arrived at our destination. My jaw drops. It’s not just a house—it’s a freaking mansion.

Suddenly, I’m having serious second thoughts.

I knew Rhys was a doctor, and his bond mate is some big shot athlete, but this… this is a whole other level of wealth.

Maybe I should have Googled them after all. But it’s too late now. The heat simmering under my skin reminds me that I don’t have much choice but to see this through.

The driver opens my door, and I step out on shaky legs. I’m sure he can smell me now—my scent is probably filling the entire driveway—but he maintains his professional demeanor as he leads me to the front door.

Before we even reach it, the door flies open, revealing a beaming Rhys. ‘Ophelia! Welcome!’ he exclaims, his enthusiasm catching me off guard. God, he looks good. He’s wearing a button down shirt that’s perfectly tailored to his lean yet muscular build, and slacks that probably cost more than my car. Actually, I’m sure they cost more than everything I own. ‘I’m so sorry I couldn’t pick you up myself. I was making some last-minute touches. I wanted everything to be perfect for when you arrived.’

I blink, surprised by his earnestness. ‘Oh, um, that’s okay. Thanks for sending the car.’

Rhys ushers me inside, and I have to stifle a gasp. The interior of the mansion is even more impressive than the outside. High ceilings, gleaming hardwood floors, artwork that probably costs more than my entire life savings…

I’m definitely in over my head here.

But Rhys still seems fully fixated on me. When I realize his hands haven’t left my shoulders, I look up to find him gazing down at me with a hungry look in his eyes that’s somehow not anything like the predatory ones I’m used to getting from alphas.

I realize my scent is probably hitting him with full force, but even though I should be wary, his presence immediately makes me feel… safe. And that’s something I can’t remember feeling in so long.

‘Your scent,’ he murmurs, his gaze traveling over me appreciatively.

‘Sorry,’ I mumble. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve been off suppressants.’

‘Sorry?’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘You smell like heaven.’

My face flushes. I’m not sure how to respond to that.

But fuck, he does, too. Like sunlight and rain and all the best memories of being wild and free. Memories I’ve kept locked away in the back of my mind, afraid to access them because I always figured I would never feel like that again.

‘Let me give you a quick tour,’ Rhys says, guiding me through room after opulent room. ‘We want you to feel comfortable here, Ophelia. Our home is your home for as long as you need it.’

I nod mutely, trying to take it all in. We pass through a state-of-the-art kitchen where Mace is busy at the stove.

The burly looks up as we enter, flashing me a warm smile. Then, I see a flicker of the same hunger that was in Rhys’s eyes at the door, but he masks it quickly. ‘Hey there, little one. Hungry? I’m whipping up some comfort food.’

The smell of something delicious wafts through the air, making my mouth water. ‘That sounds great, thanks,’ I manage to say. ‘And it smells delicious.’

‘Sure does,’ Mace murmurs in his low, rumbling voice in a way that makes me think he isn’t talking about the food.

Rhys leads me upstairs, and I trail behind him, feeling more and more out of place with each step. He points out all the various rooms like it’s just a normal house, telling me where I can find whatever I need during my stay. Finally, we reach a set of double doors.

‘And this,’ Rhys says, a hint of nervousness in his voice, ‘is the nesting suite.’

Rhys pushes open the double doors, revealing a sight that steals my breath away. I step inside, my jaw dropping as I take in the sheer opulence before me. This isn’t just a room—it’s an entire wing of the mansion, a sprawling sanctuary dedicated to omega comfort. I’ve only ever seen anything like it in omega magazines. The kind even my rich friends growing up would clip pictures out of to put on their vision boards, dreaming up what they wanted their future packs to design for them.

Sunlight pours through floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the space in a warm, golden glow. The windows themselves are a marvel, crystal-clear and framed by heavy silk curtains in a soft, buttery yellow. They offer a panoramic view of meticulously manicured gardens, complete with a burbling fountain and vibrant flower beds.

The floors are covered in plush, cream-colored carpeting so thick my feet sink into it with each step. It’s like walking on a cloud. Scattered throughout the room are overstuffed armchairs and chaise lounges upholstered in rich fabrics—velvet, silk, and what looks like the softest leather I’ve ever seen. Each piece of furniture is adorned with an abundance of pillows in various textures and complementary shades of gold, ivory, and pale blue.

But the true centerpiece of the room is the bed. Calling it massive would be an understatement. The circular mattress must be at least twelve feet in diameter, easily large enough to accommodate a whole pack with room to spare. It’s covered in sheets that shimmer like liquid silver in the sunlight, and piled high with pillows and blankets of every conceivable texture and weight. A canopy of sheer, gossamer fabric drapes from the ceiling, creating a dreamy, ethereal atmosphere that makes it look safe and cozy.

Along one wall, I spot a state-of-the-art entertainment system complete with a massive flat-screen TV and what looks like a top-of-the-line sound system. Nearby, there’s a fully stocked, full-size fridge and a small kitchenette, ensuring that any omega in heat wouldn’t have to leave the nest for sustenance.

The far corner houses a luxurious en-suite bathroom. Through the open door, I catch a glimpse of gleaming marble countertops, a rainfall shower big enough for multiple people, and a sunken tub that looks more like a small pool.

But what truly catches my attention is the scent.

Or rather, the lack thereof.

Despite the obvious care and attention lavished on this space, there’s no lingering smell of another omega. The only scents I detect are faint traces of the pack, likely from recent decorating or cleaning. It’s as if this entire, lavish wing has been waiting, pristine and untouched, for an omega to claim it.

As I turn in a slow circle, taking it all in, I can’t help but feel overwhelmed. This room represents a level of wealth and consideration I’ve never experienced before. It’s almost too much to process, and I find myself wondering what kind of pack would invest so much in a space they’ve never used.

‘This is… a lot,’ I say, unable to keep the awe from my voice. ‘You have an entire nesting suite just sitting here?’

Rhys shifts, looking a bit flustered. ‘We, um, have had it prepared for a while. But no one to put in it, until now.’ He quickly adds, ‘I thought it would be better for things to be neutral right now, so you can add your own touches if you want. If you decide you want to make this a recurring arrangement, that is. But no pressure.’

I nod slowly, trying to process this information. These alphas are rich, attractive, and apparently have a fully furnished nesting suite just waiting for an omega. So why haven’t they had one here before? It doesn’t make sense.

‘I’ll let you get settled,’ Rhys says, breaking into my thoughts. ‘Mace should have food ready soon if you’re hungry. And if you need anything—anything at all—just let us know, okay?’

With that, he leaves me alone in the massive suite. I sink onto the edge of the bed, feeling overwhelmed. No alpha has ever shown me this much care and consideration before.

It’s… nice.

Too nice.

I shake my head, trying to clear it. This place isn’t for me, I remind myself. It’s for any omega they happen to ask over. I need to stay on guard.

The Carver pack has to be too good to be true. There has to be a catch.

But as another wave of heat washes over me, I can’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe this won’t be as bad as I feared.

I unpack my meager belongings, trying to ignore how out of place my worn clothes look in this luxurious setting. My heat is building steadily now, making my skin feel too tight and my thoughts fuzzy around the edges.

A soft knock at the door startles me. ‘Ophelia?’ Mace’s deep voice calls. ‘Food’s ready if you’re up for it.’

My stomach growls in response. ‘Coming,’ I call back, taking a deep breath to steady myself.

I follow the scent of food downstairs, finding Mace and Rhys in the kitchen. They’ve set out a veritable feast on the island—comfort foods of all kinds, from mac and cheese to homemade pizza to what looks like the world’s most decadent chocolate cake.

‘We weren’t sure what you’d be in the mood for,’ Rhys explains, looking a bit sheepish. ‘So Mace made… well, everything.’

I can’t help but laugh, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly. ‘It all looks amazing. Thank you.’

As I put food onto my plate, I notice Troy’s absence. ‘Will Troy be joining us later?’ I ask, trying to sound casual.

Rhys and Mace exchange a look. ‘He had some work to finish up in his studio,’ Rhys says carefully. ‘But he’ll join us soon.’

I nod, ignoring the pang of disappointment in my chest. It’s probably for the best, I tell myself. No need to deal with his obvious dislike of me on top of everything else.

We eat in comfortable silence for a while, the food helping to calm my nerves and settle my heat-addled stomach. As I finish my second helping of mac and cheese, Rhys clears his throat.

‘Ophelia, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but… how are you feeling? Your heat, I mean. Is it progressing okay?’

I tense, unsure how to answer. The truth is, I’m feeling worse by the minute. The ache in my bones is intensifying, and I can feel sweat beading on my forehead despite the comfortable temperature in the room.

‘I’m… managing,’ I say finally. ‘It’s coming on faster than usual, though.’

Rhys nods, concern etched on his handsome face. ‘That’s not uncommon after stopping suppressants. Is there anything we can do to make you more comfortable?’

I shake my head, touched by his genuine concern. ‘I think I just need to rest for a bit, if that’s okay.’

‘Of course,’ Mace rumbles. ‘We’ve got some time before things really kick into high gear. Why don’t you head back up to the nest and relax? We’ll check on you in a little while.’

I nod gratefully, sliding off the barstool. As I turn to leave, a wave of dizziness hits me, making me stumble. In an instant, Rhys is at my side, his strong arm locking around my waist.

‘Easy there,’ he murmurs, his scent—petrichor and sunlight—wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been so affected by an alpha’s scent, or at least, I don’t want to. ‘I’ve got you.’

I lean into him, unable to help myself. My omega instincts are screaming at me to submit, to let this kind alpha take care of me. But years of self-preservation keep me from fully relaxing.

‘Thanks,’ I manage to say, pulling away slightly. ‘I can manage from here.’

Rhys looks like he wants to argue, but he respects my wishes, letting his arm drop. ‘Alright. But please, Ophelia, don’t hesitate to call for us if you need anything. We’re here to help.’

I nod, not trusting myself to speak, and make my way back up to the nesting suite. As soon as the door closes behind me, I collapse onto the bed, my body trembling with the effort of holding myself together.

This heat is hitting me hard and fast, worse than I can ever remember. Maybe Natalie was right. Maybe all those suppressants have made things worse. A tendril of fear curls in my gut.

What if the Carver pack can’t handle this?

What if I’m too much for them?

My scent, my need, and all the walls I’ve built around me a mile high…

I curl up on my side, burying my face in one of the soft pillows. It smells faintly of Rhys and Mace, a mixture of their individual scents that makes my inner omega purr with contentment. Despite my reservations, I find myself relaxing into the bed, letting their scents soothe me.

As I drift off into a fitful sleep, one thought echoes through my mind: I hope I haven’t made a terrible mistake.

Hours pass in a haze of fever dreams and restless tossing. When I finally surface to full consciousness, the room is bathed in the soft glow of sunset. My skin feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending screaming for relief. I’m soaked in sweat, my dress clinging uncomfortably to my body.

A whimper escapes my lips as another cramp wracks my body.

This is bad.

Really bad.

I’ve never experienced a heat this intense before.

I need help. As much as it pains my pride to admit it, I can’t handle this on my own.

With shaking hands, I reach for my phone, intending to call for Rhys or Mace. But before I can even unlock the screen, there’s a knock at the door.

‘Ophelia? Are you alright?’ Rhys’s voice filters through the door, laced with concern.

I try to respond, but all that comes out is a pathetic whimper. Swallowing hard, I manage to croak out, ‘Come in.’

The door opens, and Rhys rushes to my side. His eyes widen as he takes in my state, pressing a cool hand to my forehead. ‘You’re burning up.’

I lean into his touch, desperate for relief. ‘It’s… it’s bad,’ I admit, hating how weak I sound. ‘I’ve never… it’s never been like this before.’

Rhys’s brow furrows with worry. ‘Here,’ he murmurs, reaching into his pocket and taking out a small packet of pills. They look like suppressants, but I don’t recognize the brand. ‘These should help.’

‘Suppressants?’ I ask doubtfully.

He shakes his head. ‘No. They won’t stop your heat, but they’ll help the intensity ramp up a bit more slowly. And they’ll prevent pregnancy.’ He pauses. ‘They’re completely safe, but I know I’m not your doctor, so if you want⁠—’

‘No,’ I say quickly, eager for the prospect of relief. And I was going to ask about the whole birth control aspect when I got here, but I hadn’t planned on taking a long nap, and I don’t trust myself to be thinking about that kind of thing at all if this progresses any further. ‘I’ll take them. Thanks. That was thoughtful of you.’

He gives me a strange look. ‘It’s the least I can do, Ophelia. You’re trusting us to get you through your heat.’

I want to tell him it’s far from the least he could do, but he’s already moving into the suite and returns a second later with a bottle of water I assume came from the refrigerator.

‘Here you go,’ he says, handing me the water and the pills. ‘Just take two and drink as much as you can. They might dehydrate you.’

‘Thanks,’ I say, downing a couple of the pills and most of the water. I’m already parched from the heat, but my other needs are so loud, I didn’t notice how thirsty I was.

The relief is almost immediate, but Rhys is right. It’s not the heat-stopping relief of suppressants. More like it just dulls the edges a little. Makes it possible for me to think a bit more rationally.

‘Let’s get you cooled down,’ he offers. ‘A bath might help. Is that okay?’

I nod, not trusting my voice.

Without hesitation, Rhys scoops me into his arms.

I should protest, should insist I can walk, but the truth is, I’m not sure I can. So I let him carry me, my face pressed against his chest, inhaling his comforting scent. It’s weirdly the only thing that makes me feel a little less overwhelmed.

That and his touch. His strong arms wrapped around me, cradling me against his chest like I’m something precious. Something his.

The bathroom is a marvel of marble and glass, but I barely notice. Rhys sets me down gently on a plush bench against the wall and starts the water running. ‘Tell me if it’s too cold,’ he says, testing the temperature with his hand.

I dip my toes in and sigh with relief. ‘It’s perfect.’

Rhys helps me out of my sweat-soaked clothes, his touch clinical and respectful. It’s so different from what I’m used to—alphas pawing at me, taking what they want without a second thought. But it’s clear from the look in his eyes it’s not from a lack of desire.

He turns away as I slip into the water, giving me privacy I didn’t even know I wanted.

The cool water is blissful against my overheated skin. I sink down, submerging myself up to my chin. When I surface, Rhys is watching me with a mixture of concern and something else I can’t quite place.

‘Better?’ he asks softly.

I nod, feeling more clear-headed than I have in hours. ‘Much. Thank you.’

Rhys smiles, and my heart does a funny little flip in my chest. ‘I’m glad. Do you… would you like me to join you? Or I can leave if you’d prefer privacy.’

I bite my lip, considering. Every instinct is screaming at me to pull him closer, to beg him to touch me. But there’s a gentleness in his eyes that makes me pause.

He’s giving me a choice.

When was the last time an alpha gave me a real choice?

‘Stay,’ I whisper. ‘Please.’

Rhys nods, stripping off his clothes without fanfare. As his collar slips away from his neck, I notice the pale, crescent shaped scar against his bronze skin.

It jars me for a second, but then I remember why it’s there. I must not be as subtle as I hoped, because he gives me a knowing smile and caresses the mark with his fingertips. ‘Never seen one before?’

‘No,’ I admit. ‘I mean, I know some omegas mark their alphas, too. But I’ve never seen an alpha with an alpha’s bond mark.’

‘Does it bother you?’

There’s no judgment in his tone, only gentle inquiry. Curiosity.

I pause to consider it before shaking my head. ‘No. I wasn’t sure what to make of it at first,’ I admit, leaning over the edge of the bathtub. ‘But it’s kind of nice.’

‘Nice?’ He cocks his head, coming closer. ‘How so?’

I can’t help but notice his impressive physique. He’s all lean muscle and smooth bronze skin, and my omega brain short-circuits for a moment at the sight of that long auburn hair cascading down over all that muscle.

And that’s to say nothing of his cock.

I immediately imagine having that knot, thick as it is even without being swollen, stretching me open.

But I just shrug. ‘Most alphas only want to put their mark on an omega. To make sure the world knows she’s owned. Even if they have no intentions of dealing with the consequences,’ I mutter, unconsciously touching my own half mark. ‘To see an alpha willing to show he’s bonded to someone else, committed—even if it isn’t a mating thing—it says a lot.’

He gives me a knowing smile and slips into the water. ‘Pack is forever,’ he says thoughtfully. ‘I don’t mind the world knowing where my allegiances lie.’

He settles behind me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off his body, but not touching. ‘Is this okay?’ he asks.

I nod, leaning back slightly. ‘It’s nice,’ I admit.

Rhys hums in agreement, his hands coming to rest lightly on my shoulders. ‘May I?’ he asks, and I nod again.

His fingers begin to work the tension from my muscles, and I can’t help the moan that escapes my lips. It feels so good, so right, that I find myself relaxing despite my usual wariness.

As Rhys continues his ministrations, I feel something hard press against my lower back. Heat floods my cheeks as I realize what it is. Instinctively, I grind back against him, seeking friction.

Rhys’s hands still on my shoulders. ‘Ophelia,’ he says, his voice strained. ‘Can I touch you? Really touch you?’

The raw need in his voice matches the ache building inside me. ‘Yes,’ I plead. ‘Please touch me, Rhys.’

Rhys’s hands slide down from my shoulders, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I arch into his touch, craving more. His palms cup my breasts, kneading gently, and I gasp as his thumbs brush over my nipples.

‘Is this good?’ he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear.

‘Yes,’ I pant, grinding back against his hard length. ‘Don’t stop.’

He continues his exploration, one hand massaging my breast while the other trails down my stomach. I lean back against his chest, reveling in the feeling of his toned muscles against my skin. The water laps around us, creating a cocoon of warmth and sensation.

Rhys’s fingers dip lower, teasing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. I spread my legs wider, silently begging for more. He obliges, his skilled fingers finding my clit with unerring accuracy.

A moan escapes me as he begins to stroke, his touch firm and sure. My hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction. Rhys’s other hand continues to play with my breast, pinching and rolling my nipple between his fingers.

‘You’re so responsive,’ he growls, his voice thick with desire. ‘So beautiful.’

I turn my head, seeking his lips. Our mouths crash together in a heated kiss, all tongue and teeth and desperation. Rhys’s fingers speed up, circling my clit with practiced ease. I’m close, so close, the pressure building inside me like a spring wound too tight.

‘Rhys,’ I gasp against his lips. ‘I need⁠—’

‘I know, beautiful,’ he murmurs. ‘I’ve got you.’

His fingers dip lower, teasing my entrance before sliding inside. The stretch is exquisite, and I cry out as he curls his fingers, hitting that spot deep inside me that makes me see stars.

My mind goes blank, overwhelmed by sensation. All I can focus on is Rhys. His scent enveloping me, his body hard and warm against my back, his fingers working me expertly. I grind back against his erection, imagining how it would feel inside me, how his knot would stretch and fill me.

The thought sends me over the edge. I come with a cry, my body shaking in Rhys’s arms as waves of pleasure wash over me. He holds me through it, murmuring praise and endearments in my ear.

As I come down from my high, I become aware of Rhys’s arousal pressing insistently against my lower back. I shift, turning to face him. His eyes are dark with desire, his cheeks flushed.

His eyes lock with mine, pupils blown wide with hunger. Without breaking our gaze, I shift, straddling his lap. The water sloshes around us as I position myself over him, his hard length pressing against my entrance.

‘Ophelia,’ Rhys breathes, his voice reverent. ‘Are you sure you’re ready?’

In response, I sink down onto him, taking him inside me inch by delicious inch. We both gasp at the sensation, the stretch and fullness overwhelming in the best way. Rhys’s hands grip my hips, steadying me as I adjust to his size.

‘Fuck,’ I whimper, rocking slightly. ‘You feel so good.’

Rhys’s breath hitches as I start to move, setting a slow, torturous pace. His eyes never leave my face, watching me with an intensity that makes my skin tingle. I’ve never felt so seen, so worshiped by an alpha before.

I increase my speed, chasing the pleasure building inside me. Rhys meets my movements, thrusting up into me with perfect timing as his huge hands caress my body like he can’t touch enough of me quickly enough for his liking. The water splashes around us, adding to the symphony of our moans and gasps.

As the familiar tightening in my core signals my approaching orgasm, I feel Rhys’s knot beginning to swell. Part of me wants to take it, to feel that fullness, that connection. But Rhys, ever considerate, stops me with a gentle hand on my hip.

‘Wait,’ he pants, clearly struggling for control. ‘Not here, unless you want to be stuck in the bath for the next half hour.’

I groan in frustration but acknowledge the wisdom of his words. Reluctantly, I lift myself off him, both of us hissing at the loss of contact. Rhys stands quickly, water cascading down his perfect body, and reaches for a towel.

He wraps me in the buttery soft terrycloth before I can protest, lifting me into his arms once more. I nuzzle into his neck, inhaling his intoxicating scent as he carries me back to the nest.

Rhys lays me gently on the bed, his eyes roving over my body with undisguised hunger. ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he murmurs, leaning down to kiss me softly.

I reach for him, eager to continue what we started in the bath, but he pulls back slightly. ‘I should call the others,’ he says, his voice rough. ‘As long as you’re ready.’

A pang of guilt hits me as I remember Troy and Mace. In my heat-addled state, I’d almost forgotten about them. ‘You’re right,’ I admit, though every fiber of my being screams for him to fuck me right now. Like I’ll turn into vapor if I wait even another second.

Rhys grabs his phone from the bedside table, firing off a quick text. ‘There,’ he says, tossing the phone aside. ‘Now, where were we?’

He crawls onto the bed, his body covering mine as he captures my lips in a searing kiss. I arch up into him, craving his touch, his heat. My legs part instinctively, welcoming him between them.

Rhys breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down my neck. ‘Tell me what you need,’ he murmurs against my skin.

‘You,’ I gasp as he nips at my collarbone. ‘I need you inside me again.’

He obliges, sliding into me with one smooth thrust. We both groan at the sensation, our bodies fitting together perfectly. Rhys sets a steady pace, each thrust hitting that spot deep inside me that makes me see stars.

I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him deeper. My hands roam over his back, feeling the play of muscles under his skin as he moves. The room fills with the sound of our pleasure, punctuated by the occasional endearment or whispered praise.

The door creaks open, and I turn my head to see Mace standing there, his eyes wide and dark with desire. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of him—all broad shoulders and thick muscles, his skin flushed with arousal.

Rhys slows his movements but doesn’t stop, his hips still rocking against mine in a maddeningly slow rhythm. ‘Join us,’ he says to Mace, his voice rough with need.

Mace hesitates for a moment, his gaze flicking between Rhys and me. I can see the hunger in his eyes, the way his hands clench at his sides. My inner omega preens at the attention, reveling in the knowledge that I’ve affected him so strongly.

‘Are you sure?’ Mace asks, his voice low and gravelly. ‘I don’t want to intrude.’

Has this pack never shared an omega before? The thought is as strange as it is intriguing.

Why?

There can’t be any shortage of omegas who’d kill to be in the spot I’m in now. Literally and figuratively, with this gorgeous alpha laying on top of me, filling me with everything but his knot.

I reach out a hand to Mace, surprising myself with my boldness. ‘Please,’ I whisper, the word coming out more like a whimper as Rhys hits a particularly sensitive spot inside me.

That’s all the invitation Mace needs. He strips off his clothes with impressive speed, revealing a body that’s even more impressive than I’d imagined. Where Rhys is all lean muscle, Mace is built like a tank—broad and solid, with a thick layer of softness over hard muscle that makes my mouth water. In clothes, he looks like a big, burly teddy bear, but out of them, he’s a mountain of a man, as impressive as he is hot.

And fuck, his cock is huge.

He’s already getting hard, but it’s weighed down just from the sheer girth of it. It’s the size of my forearm. Rhys is huge, too, but Mace’s cock is proportional to his massive size, and I find myself wondering if it’s even possible to take him.

Here’s hoping he’s a gentle giant.

As Mace approaches the bed, I can see the uncertainty in his eyes. It’s even clearer that this is new territory for him—sharing an omega between pack members. The realization sends a thrill through me. I’m not the only one out of my depth here.

Rhys shifts, making room for Mace on the bed without breaking our connection. I reach for Mace, pulling him closer until he’s kneeling beside us. My hand wraps around his impressive length, or rather, a little more than halfway around, and he groans, his head falling back in pleasure.

‘Fuck, Ophelia,’ he growls, his hips bucking into my touch. ‘You feel amazing.’

I stroke him slowly, enjoying the heft of his thick shaft in my palm. The dual sensations are overwhelming, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through my body.

Rhys resumes his thrusting, harder now. I cry out, my back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crash over me. Mace leans down, capturing my lips in a searing kiss that steals what little breath I have left.

As Mace pulls back, I can see the question in his eyes. He wants more, but he’s hesitant to ask. I make the decision for him, guiding his cock to my mouth. His eyes widen in surprise and lust as I take him between my lips.

The taste of him explodes on my tongue—salty and musky and undeniably alpha. I moan around him, the vibrations making him shudder.

Rhys groans at the sight, his hips snapping against mine with renewed vigor.

I lose myself in the sensations—Rhys pounding into me, Mace’s thick length stretching my lips to their limit, their scents mingling in the air around us. It’s too much and not enough all at once. My body feels like a live wire, every nerve ending singing with pleasure.

Rhys’s knot begins to swell, catching on my entrance with each thrust. The added pressure sends me spiraling toward orgasm, my inner walls clenching around him. Mace’s hand tangles in my hair, guiding my movements as I take him deeper.

‘Fuck, I’m close,’ Rhys pants, his rhythm faltering. ‘Ophelia, can I⁠—’

I nod frantically, unable to speak around Mace’s cock. Fuck, I need his knot. Need both of them.

Rhys’s knot fully slips in, locking us together as he spills his seed inside me. The feeling of fullness, of completion, sends me careening over the edge. My body convulses, inner walls clamping down on his knot as waves of pleasure crash over me.

I moan around Mace’s cock, taking him deeper. His grip on my hair tightens, guiding my movements as I suck him harder, faster. I can feel him tensing, his thighs trembling against my shoulders.

‘Fuck, Ophelia,’ Mace groans, his voice raw and strained. ‘I’m gonna⁠—’

He doesn’t finish the sentence. Hot spurts of cum hit the back of my throat, and I swallow greedily, milking him for every drop. The taste of him, salty and musky, floods my senses.

As Mace pulls out, I collapse between them, gasping for air. My body feels like jelly, boneless and sated in a way I’ve never experienced before. The burning need that’s been clawing at me for hours has subsided to a dull throb, no longer painful but still present.

Rhys shifts us onto our sides, his knot still firmly lodged inside me. He presses soft kisses to my shoulder, my neck, anywhere he can reach. Mace settles in front of me, his broad chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

I blink, trying to clear the fog from my mind. Is this what it’s supposed to be like? To be taken care of, truly cared for, during a heat?

The thought sends a pang through my chest, a bittersweet mix of longing and regret for all the times it wasn’t like this.

As my breathing evens out, I become aware of the silence in the room. There’s no fourth set of breaths, no additional weight on the bed. Troy never joined us.

The realization stings more than it should. I barely know these alphas, have no claim on any of them. But the absence confirms what I’ve suspected since our first meeting—Troy doesn’t want me here.

I try to push the thought away, focusing instead on the warmth of the bodies surrounding me. Rhys’s arm is draped over my waist, his breath tickling the back of my neck. Mace’s hand rests on my hip, his thumb tracing lazy circles on my skin.

My eyelids grow heavy, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with me. As I drift off, still locked together with Rhys, I can’t help but wonder what the morning will bring. Will this tenderness last, or will reality come crashing back in with the dawn?

The last thing I register before sleep claims me is the soft press of lips against my forehead—Mace or Rhys, I’m not sure. But the gesture, so gentle and caring, makes my heart ache in a way I don’t want to examine too closely.