Page 93 of Retribution

I take in her joggers and long sleeved hoody and think she looks gorgeous with her hair tumbling down her back.

“I…I have to masturbate in the shower to ease some of the heat spikes, and I’m worried that it’s going to hit anytime. It’s the wildest fucking thing because sometimes I’m completely fine. Other times, I’ll look at Grant’s chest without a shirt and want to lick up his tattoos!”

Grant looks both shocked and smug as he leans forward in his joggers and open long sleeved shirt. All of his tattoos are onfull display, and Isolde is in fact staring at him as she licks her lips.

“Fuck. See?” she asks, her legs pressing together.

The four of us inhale deeply as her scent fills the room, which shouldn’t be as strong as it is while she’s wearing such thick clothing. Isolde also looks very flushed.

“Does anything hurt?” Lucas asks worriedly. “Fuck, cancel my meetings, Grant.”

“You shouldn’t,” Isolde says, shaking her head. “I don’t know if it’s going to happen anytime soon. I’m just low key freaking the fuck out about it. I have no idea if there’s a solution to this. So let me freak out and don’t try to fix it, okay?”

The four of us sit with our mouths open, because that’s almost impossible for us. We’re alphas and men. It’s ingrained in our DNA towantto fix things.

What the fuck else are we supposed to do if we can’t do that?

“But…” I trail off, completely at loose ends with this.

“What Alesso is trying to ask, badly at that, is how can we support you in this?” Lucas asks, half glaring at me. “I don’t want to be three hours away from you when your heat comes, Isolde.”

“I know,” she huffs out. Oliver pulls her into the circle of his arms, and she leans against him. “I fucking hate being scared.”

“What exactly are you scared of?” Grant asks, leaning forward on his arms. “We’ve never really spoken about it. I will be here for you if you want me, or you can kick me out of your nest if it makes you feel better. However, I want to know what scares you because I’m all in, even though I’ve kind of been existing on the edges for you.”

“You’re everywhere,” Isolde says. “Grant, you can't exist on the edges if you’re bugging the trees of my house, and sending me house proofing kits.”

“I mean, she’ll be walking at some point,” he shrugs unrepentantly. “You can just use those at the cottage out back instead.”

“I have this incredible urge to smack you,” Isolde growls. “I haven’t stabbed you yet because the area around Leila is a non-stabbing zone.”

“Good to know,” he smirks. “Now, talk to us. If you’re going to insist that Lucas, and I by parasitic nature, leave town then we need more information.”

“You’re an ass,” Lucas mutters. “Unfortunately, I do agree with him on this one thing, darlin’.”

Isolde makes a face before she nods.

“I’m afraid of not knowing who I am, and not remembering my heat to begin with,” she says. “I’ve never had sex outside of it being forced, so I have no idea if it’s supposed to hurt or not. Yes, I’ve used toys, but an alpha knot is much better than a toy.”

“This is true, but collectively, our plan would be to give you as many orgasms as possible so that your attention is on that instead,” Grant says, his gaze solely on Isolde.

My heart is pounding because I’ve been piecing things together of Isolde’s past from things that she’s said in passing, but hearing her say it is still difficult.

Isolde takes a deep breath, and I wait for her to decide on her next words.

Isolde

Shit. Why is this so difficult?

“I’ve never had an orgasm with another person that wasn’t under medication,” I whisper. “Fuck, I’m a freak.”

“You are no such thing,” Oliver says, kissing my temple. Leila continues sleeping against Alesso’s chest, and I swear that nothing like this will ever happen to her.

I’ll raze and scorch the earth to ensure that she’s able to live her life without fear.

“I don’t even know if I can come with someone else,” I groan. I can feel my cheeks flaming and my body is getting warmer the more I talk about sex.

Fuck, even my breasts are tender. I really don’t know what to do with this one foot into the door of my heat era. Shit or get off the pot, Isolde.