Page 114 of Storm

"Getting worse," I admit, melting against his warmth. "Fox says the full heat will probably hit in a week’s time." I tense at the thought. "I don't know if I'm ready. I don't even have a nest."

"We can fix that," Rook says, already pulling out his phone. "Let me text Jonathan."

I watch as he types rapidly, explaining the situation. The fact that he's so casually reaching out to Jonathan, coordinating with him to help me, makes something warm unfurl in my chest.

He kisses me gently, then pulls back to look at his phone. "Jonathan's bringing some things up. Should be here soon. And he's having the rest delivered from town tomorrow."

Another cramp ripples through me, and I curl into Rook's chest, gritting my teeth against the discomfort.

"Let me help," he murmurs, his hands sliding to my lower back, applying firm pressure that somehow eases the cramping. "Better?"

I nod against his chest, the pain receding under his touch. As his hands work their magic, the ache gradually transforms into something else—a heat pooling low in my belly, slick beginning to gather between my thighs.

I shift in his lap, pressing closer, my hands sliding into his dark hair as I seek his mouth with mine. Rook groans against my lips, his arms tightening around me as he senses the change in my scent.

"I need you," I tell him, already tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. "I need to be filled by you."

The look in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine. He stands in one fluid motion, lifting me with him as if I weigh nothing. Two steps and we're at the bed, where he lays me down with unexpected gentleness before climbing in beside me. His weight dips the mattress, and I immediately curl toward him, seeking his warmth and the comfort of his familiar scent.

"Let me take care of you," he murmurs, his hands carefully helping me out of my clothes.

Each touch soothes and ignites me. When I'm naked, he takes his time looking at me, his dark eyes moving over my body with an appreciation that makes my skin flush.

"You're so beautiful," he says, his voice rough with emotion.

"Please, Rook. I need you." I whisper, reaching for him.

He strips quickly, revealing the body I've come to know again over these past weeks. He's all hard muscle and smooth skin, marked here and there with scars from his years of fighting. I trace one that curves along his ribs, a souvenir from a knife fight. So many close calls, so many moments when I could have lost him forever without even knowing.

His fingers dip between my thighs, finding me slick. I gasp as he strokes me gently. My hips rock against his hand, seeking more pressure, more friction.

"Rook," I moan, my head falling back as pleasure rises. "Please, I need more."

He kisses me again, harder this time, his tongue slipping past my lips to claim my mouth as his fingers continue their expert touch. My dark chocolate scent fills the room, growing richer, mingling with his strawberries and cream to create something intoxicating.

When his mouth leaves mine to trail down my neck, I whimper, tangling my fingers in his hair to keep him close. He knows exactly where to touch, where to kiss, finding the sensitive spot beneath my ear that makes me shiver. His teeth graze my skin, not hard enough to break it, not a claiming bite, but the suggestion of one makes my omega instincts sing with need.

"Mark me," I find myself saying, the words escaping before I can stop them. "Make me yours, Rook. Please."

He groans against my neck, his body going tense against mine. "Storm," he says, his voice strained with the effort of control.

"I want you," I whisper fervently. "I've always wanted you to be mine."

His eyes, dark with desire, search mine. "I want you," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "I want to claim and bond you. So bad, Storm. But I want to wait. Until your heat. That's when you should be bonded. By all your alphas."

My breath catches at his words. The thought of carrying all their marks—Rook, Reed, Jonathan, Alex—sends a thrill of excitement through me that I hadn't expected. To be claimed by all of them, to belong to them and have them belong to me... The omega in me practically purrs at the idea.

"All of them?" I ask, unable to hide the hope in my voice.

Rook nods, brushing my hair back from my face. "If that's what you want. A true pack bond."

"Yes," I breathe, surprised by the intensity of my desire for it. "Yes, I want that."

His smile is tender as he kisses me softly. "Then we'll wait. Do this right."

"Make love to me," I whisper.

He doesn't need further encouragement. His mouth is hungry on mine, his hands everywhere at once. I arch into his touch, the closeness sparking something deep inside me, something more profound than instinct, more compelling than desire. The omega in me howls in satisfaction, but it’s more than that. It's more than biology and designation. It's this. It's us.