Page 7

Seraphina

My hands shake as I peel off my slick-soaked panties. They’re ruined, coated in the evidence of my pheromones going haywire. My wild berry scent fills the small space, overtaking the lavender descenter I sprayed earlier.

It’s never worn off this fast, not in the years I’ve been hiding in this apartment. I shove the panties into the trash, wrapping them in toilet paper like it’ll hide my shame. Like that will do anything. My heart is all but beating out of my chest, terror running through me at the idea that Lyle will attack me like that one Alpha did.

Rationally, I know he won’t. He’s only ever protected me, loved me, cared for me and yet, that spark of fear won’t let me ask for help in the way I so desperately need it.

My gaze falls on the woman in my reflection, my flushed cheeks and wide, glassy eyes telling me that fighting my heat is inevitable. The few breathing techniques I’ve learned over the years fall short of what I need, a cramp tearing through my stomach. A high-pitched whine tears from my throat as I collapse to my knees on the cold tile. Slick pours down my thighs, pooling beneath me as I start fumbling around for the cabinet handle to find my heat blockers.

Where are they? Fuck!

I curse myself for not being organized, fingers scrabbling through bottles and tampons, knocking over a can of shaving cream. I can’t remember where I put them, can’t think past the pain and the fear. The door swings open and I curl into myself, yelling, “Don’t hurt me!” My voice cracks with desperation, even as another cramp tears through me, tears streaming down my face.

When I look up, it’s not the silhouette from my nightmares. It’s just Lyle, his big frame filling the doorway, his brown eyes wide with worry. “Fi, baby girl,” he says, dropping to his knees beside me. He pulls me into his arms, his shirt soft against my heated cheeks. “You’re safe. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

I shake my head, sobbing into his chest. “I just need my meds,” I choke out, my hands clutching his shirt. His eucalyptus amber scent slips through, pulling me out of the haze just enough to realize how embarrassing this is.

He threads his fingers into my hair and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Baby girl, you’re having a heat spike. Meds won’t help.” He lifts me and carries me over to the tub. “Let’s get you into a cold bath, okay? I’ve heard that can help.”

I nod, too weak to argue, my body trembling as he sets me on the edge and then turns on the water. He helps me strip, his fingers grazing my heated skin but not lingering, my emotions warring with themselves. I want to curl into his chest and wait for him to take away the pain, but I also don’t know if he’s going to lunge at me in the next second.

Regardless, I’m in too much pain to push him away.

Lyle lovingly helps me into the tub, the cold water shocking but just the right amount of relief. Mostly. He kneels beside the tub, arms folded over the side as my cramps ease just a fraction and I let out a shaky breath, leaning my head against the porcelain.

His soft, worried eyes meet mine when I finally look at him, the muscles in his jaw pulled tight. I can’t tell if he’s restraining himself or something else. I settle a little further, hoping the cold water will be enough but then my pussy clenches around nothing, a sharp, empty ache that makes me whimper.

My first instinct is to reach for him, one of my hands clenching around his arm. “It hurts so bad,” I push out.

“How do you want me, baby girl?”

God, this is so embarrassing.

“Your fingers,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, shame and need twisting together.

Lyle doesn’t even hesitate as he rolls up his sleeve and slips his hand down into the water. Two fingers meet my aching pussy as I widen my legs, my hand gripping his other arm as he pushes inside of me. Another whine tears from my throat as I guide him deeper, needing to be full. But it’s not enough. It’s nowhere near a knot. And if this truly is a spike, nothing is going to stop this need except for the one thing I’m just slightly terrified of.

“I can give you what you need,” Lyle purrs as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of me. “But I don’t know how. I don’t wanna scare you.”

I haven’t had any of these Alphas, not fully with their knot. I never allowed myself that because of my own fear but that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it, haven’t imagined their hands, their scents, their knots. I’ve used toys, alone in my nest, chasing relief in the dark.

But now, with Lyle’s fingers inside me, all I want is for the pain to stop. I look up at him, my vision blurry with tears, and see only love mixed with concern that cuts deeper than my cramps. He’s not the Alpha who broke me. He’s Lyle, my safe place, my bear.

He pulls his hand free and I whimper at the loss, reaching for him again to fill me. “Come here, baby,” he murmurs. “Seeing you hurt is killing me.” Lyle gently pulls me from the water and I land in his lap, water soaking into his clothes. “I won’t touch. Just take what you need.”

I’m not sure what I did to deserve these men, but I can’t even thank him, my heat-addled brain drowning in desperation. For a moment, I just sit there, unsure of what to do and then I’m fumbling with the button of his pants. When I finally free his cock, it’s hard and thicker than I remember, more slick dripping down my thighs at the need coursing through me.

I straddle him, my knees pressing into the bathroom tile, and slowly lower myself onto him, a small cry escaping as he fills me, stretching me, my head falling to his chest with relief. His eucalyptus amber scent wraps around me, tears spilling down my cheeks. I hate myself for needing this, for wanting him when I’m so scared of what it means.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, my voice broken as I start rocking on his cock. My fingers dig into his shirt, clutching the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping me together. The pain in my stomach fades, replaced by a growing heat, a need that’s both relief and torment. “I’m sorry,” I say over and over again, a mantra of shame as I move faster, my hips finding a rhythm.

Lyle’s hands stay at his sides, his body tense with the effort of holding back. “You don’t have to be sorry, baby girl,” he whispers, his voice a few octaves deeper than usual, a honeyed warmth in his tone. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

I sob with my face pressed into his chest, my body screaming for his knot, for the fullness that’ll stop this ache, but my mind’s a mess. Lyle isn’t him . Lyle’s not pushing, not taking, just letting me use him, letting me chase my relief. My hips move faster, the slick sound of our bodies loud in the quiet bathroom.

The cramp’s gone, but the need’s growing, a hungry, desperate thing that tears another whine from my throat. “It’s not enough,” I cry out. “I need… I need your knot.”

“Fi,” he says, his voice strained. “I want to. God, I want to. But only if you’re sure.”

I lift my head to meet his eyes. They’re dark, burning with desire, but there’s no threat there, no violence, no vicious need to claim me. Just love, the kind that’s kept him by my side through every breakdown, every fear, every uncertainty since Felix passed away.

Only one word makes it out into the air.

“Please. ”

I let out a quiet whimper, my hips grinding harder against Lyle, frustration clawing at me as his knot stays just out of reach. My pussy clenches around his cock, slick dripping between us, but I can’t seem to fuck myself onto his knot despite how much I need it. “Help me, Lyle. Please. ”

The strain in my voice and the sob that wracks my chest is enough for Lyle to grip my hips, guiding my movements. “I got you,” he purrs, dragging me down his cock before starting to thrust up into my slick heat. His knot flutters against my entrance, one sharp push locking the muscle inside of me. It begins to swell, stretching me out even further.

A small cry escapes me as the cramp vanishes, replaced by a rush of heat, and I come hard, my pussy clenching around him, waves of pleasure crashing through me. Lyle groans, his head tipping back, and I feel him fill me, his knot fully swollen and locked inside of me. I sag against his chest, my forehead pressed to his soaked shirt, tears mixing with the water dripping from my hair. My body’s sated, the heat-addled fog in my brain lifting, leaving only weariness and a quiet, aching relief.

His hands fall back to his sides as my sleep drags me under, the rhythmic hum of his purr calming me until I finally let go.