Page 7 of Knot Their Safe Haven (The Omega Rebellion Movement #3)

I covered my face with both hands, shaking, and tried to slow my breathing.

It took minutes before I trusted my own body again, before I could uncurl from my fetal position and force myself upright.

My nightgown clung to me, soaked and transparent, the thin silk hiding nothing.

My nipples were still hard, aching, and between my legs I was a mess, sticky and slick, the evidence of my need staining the sheets.

The world spun violently, and I had to grip the sheets to keep from toppling over. My hair hung in damp tendrils around my face, and I could taste salt on my lips—tears or perspiration, I couldn't tell.

"Fuck," I breathed, the word barely a whisper in the darkness of my bedroom.

Every inch of me throbbed with unfulfilled need.

My nipples were still hard, almost painful against the wet silk.

Between my legs, I was drenched—not just with sweat but with the slick evidence of my body's desperate arousal.

The sheets beneath me were ruined, and I could smell myself in the air—wine-dark desire mixed with frustration so acute it was almost pain.

I tried to stand, to make it to the bathroom where I could splash cold water on my face and pretend this was just another night.

But my legs trembled too badly, and the room tilted dangerously when I moved.

The wine from earlier combined with the intensity of the dream had left me dizzy and disoriented.

"Goddamn it," I muttered, collapsing back against the pillows.

My body was a live wire, every nerve ending screaming for attention. I pressed my thighs together, trying to ease the ache, but it only made things worse. The slight pressure sent sparks shooting through my core, reminding me of how empty I was, how much I needed...

No. I wouldn't think about what I needed.

What I wanted.

What my traitorous body craved with every fiber of its being.

But as I lay there, trembling and desperate, I couldn't stop the images from flooding back.

Adyani's voice shifting from male to female, that fundamental change that should have altered everything but somehow only made me want her more.

Knox's possessive hands, claiming what he'd never fully claimed in twenty years of this dance.

Malcolm's gentle touch turned hungry, the medical observer becoming something darker, something that matched the need in my own soul.

My hand moved without conscious thought, sliding down my sweat-slicked stomach. I bit my lip hard enough to taste copper, trying to resist, but what was the point? I was already damned, already broken by want.

What was one more failure in a lifetime of them?

My fingers found the soaked silk of my panties, and I whimpered at the first brush of contact.

So sensitive, ready, and fucking desperate for something…anything…to ease this torment.

I pushed the fabric aside, gasping as cool air hit overheated flesh.

The first touch of my fingers against my clit sent shockwaves through my system, and I had to bite my lip harder to keep from crying out.

My other hand found my breast, squeezing roughly through the nightgown, trying to recreate the phantom touches from my dream.

But it wasn't enough…

I circled my clit with practiced movements, knew exactly what my body needed after years of solitary nights.

My fingers slipped through abundant wetness, gathering slick before returning to that bundle of nerves that screamed for attention.

I tried to imagine it was Knox's thick fingers, Adyani's elegant ones, Malcolm's precise touch.

The fantasy helped, but it also hurt. Because I knew that my own touch was a pale imitation of what it could be. Should be. My body had been designed for pack bonds, for multiple Alphas working in concert to drive me to heights I couldn't reach alone.

This solitary pleasure was like trying to fill an ocean with a teaspoon.

Still, I worked myself with desperate efficiency, chasing an orgasm that would bring relief but no satisfaction. My hips rolled against my hand, muscle memory from years of this same routine. The wet sounds of my fingers moving through slick filled the room, obscene and lonely in the darkness.

I was close— that familiar tension building in my core, my inner walls clenching around nothing. I pressed harder, moved faster, bit my lip until I tasted blood.

Just a little more, just ? —

The orgasm hit like a slap rather than a wave, sharp and unsatisfying.

My body convulsed, back arching off the bed as I rode out the brief spasms, my whimpers not escaping my throat thanks to my pressed lips that yearn to keep what felt like a shameless act behind closed doors.

But even as the physical tension released, the emotional weight remained.

The emptiness remained.

"Fuck," I gasped again, tears sliding down my temples to wet the pillow.

This was my reality.

This was what I'd chosen— safety over satisfaction, control over connection.

Every night for God knew how long, I'd lie here in my expensive sheets in my fortified bedroom, touching myself to thoughts of men and a woman who wanted me but whom I wouldn't allow close enough to matter.

Because if they truly wanted to commit, wouldn’t they do everything to do exactly that?

Move fucking mountains for me?

Scream from the roof tops that they yearn for me to be theirs.

Tell this cynical world of rules that despite their ages, they wanted to claim an Omega like me.

That I, Velvet Morclair, was their safe haven…

The tears came harder now, great heaving sobs that shook my entire frame. I was thirty-nine years old, successful beyond measure, powerful in ways most Omegas could only dream of. I'd built an empire, saved countless lives, changed the very fabric of society.

And I was so fucking lonely I could die from it.

My body still thrummed with need despite the orgasm.

That was the cruel joke of Omega circuits—we weren't meant to be satisfied by our own touch. We were built for packs, for knots, for the overwhelming pleasure that came from being claimed by Alphas who knew how to play our bodies like instruments.

And maybe that’s what hurts more is because I’ll never experience what it’s truly like to be an Omega.

To experience the reverent lust, the submission to their compassion, the reminisce of being touch again and again with no limits.

I wouldn’t know what it’s like to have a nest. To get lost in each of your Alphas scents and feel an immense sense of safety in a closed space that you’d decorate and know is yours.

I’d never enjoy the immense relief of having days if not weeks with just us.

Being in a pack that truly made you their orbit and nothing else.

I’d have to accept that such an experience that so many Omega didn’t want yet at their young prime ages and were doing everything in their power to run from, was what I yearned to experience…even if it was just for one fleeting moment.

Instead, I had this.

Wine-soaked nights and fevered dreams.

Phantom touches that disappeared just when I needed them most.

The memory of Knox's kiss from today, Adyani's voice across oceans, Malcolm's concerned eyes.

All of them circling, none of them claiming, because I wouldn't let them…because I know the end of this fairytale is just like how these feverish tormenting dreams end.

Nothing but disappointment.

I forced my eyes closed, willing sleep to return.

Maybe this time the dreams would be kinder. Or have mercy this time and let me finish properly. Just give me that moment to find the release that my body craved for like air.

I knew better.

This was my punishment, my self-imposed exile from everything my biology demanded.

Until I finally accepted a pack— accepted them —this was all I would ever have.

Tormented nights and empty days, my body screaming for something my mind wouldn't allow.