Page 59 of Stream Heat (Omega Stream #1)

It was the kind of precision that should have made me tense. Instead, it was a relief.

“I’m done fighting,” I replied, jaw tight.

He studied me for a long moment. “You’re still fighting. Right now. Trying to prove something.”

He was right, of course. I always was.

He didn’t wait for me to drop the shield. “This isn’t going to happen in your nest. Not in some public room. I take you in my space, with my rules.”

It should have felt like a threat. Instead, it was freedom from having to pretend.

“What rules?” I asked.

“Don’t lie. Don’t dial it down. Don’t mimic something you think I want. I want the real you,” he said, looming over me. “No performance.”

This was what complete acceptance sounded like.

“I can handle that.”

He cupped my face, big hands gentler than I expected. “Good. Because I’ve been waiting months to break you down and hear you scream my name.”

His mouth slammed into mine, nothing like Jace’s quiet affection or Theo’s wild, off-balance energy. This was direct, unyielding. He tasted like smoke and something darker. There was no hesitation; he’d mapped out every move in his head, and now he was executing it.

I melted into him, letting my hands dig into his back. This was the connection I wanted, a current, not a comfort. When he finally let go, both of us were breathing rough.

“Tell me what you want from my bond.”

He could have just taken. But he was asking. Even now, right at the edge.

I answered honestly, because that was his rule. “I want to know that broken doesn’t mean worthless.

That what happened to me doesn’t disqualify me. That my damage isn’t a liability.”

He said, “You think I want to fix you.”

Don’t you? I almost said it, but instead I toned it down to, “Isn’t that your thing?”

He just shook his head. “I don’t fix broken. I build new. I make systems out of parts nobody else would use.”

That landed harder than any mattress metaphor. He wasn’t patching my cracks. He was building new circuitry around them. Adapting.

“Show me,” I said, the last of my armor peeling off.

He grinned, wolfish. Without warning, he lifted me onto the closest workbench, scattering microchips and tools.

“I made something for you,” he said, reaching around. He set a custom headset by my side. “Adaptive filters. Should help with the sensory spikes.”

I turned it over in my hands, nearly losing my words. “You started this for me?”

“Second you seized. I knew you’d need it.” He placed it aside, brought over specialized controllers. “These, too. Designed for your specific hand tremors and neural patterns.”

Every bit of it radiated time, commitment, intent. Not to erase my damage, but to give me a way forward.

“Why?” I needed to hear it.

He softened, just a fraction. “Because you’re not obsolete, Quinn. You’re just different.”

He was between my legs, body blocking out the rest of the world as he kissed me again, more hunger than tenderness now. “I want to know all your glitches. Every way you work now.”

I let him. Whatever this was, it wasn’t clinical. It was intimate. He studied what made me tense, what made me moan, committing every reaction to memory. It was nothing like Theo’s chaos or Jace’s steady pressure. Ash wasn’t improvising; he was running a program.

“Interesting,” he said, pressing at my side. “You’ve re-routed. Pain before, pleasure now.”

I laughed, breathless. “Only you would run diagnostics during sex.”

He smirked. “Applied engineering, not theory.” Then he proved it, targeting the spot again, this time with teeth.

I broke for him, nerves on fire. My clothes hit the floor one piece at a time. When he finally stepped back, I was spread out across his table, flushed and raw.

He examined the scene like he just finished a masterpiece. “Even better than I pictured.”

“You pictured this?”

“Since day one. Since you glared at me as I stepped across the threshold into your apartment.” Ash stripped with the same brutal efficiency he brought to everything else, the movements sharp, succinct, no wasted effort.

Each article of clothing dropped away to reveal a body as uncompromising as his presence: shoulders broad enough to carry the weight of the world, a chest that looked carved from stone, thighs built for stability and force.

The same hands that built circuits and micro-welded processors?

They could have torn me apart if he wanted to, and that knowledge shivered through me.

When he finally stood before me, every piece of fabric gone, I stared without shame.

Reid’s body was about control, command. Theo’s carried wild voltage, unpredictable.

Jace slipped through space with sinuous grace.

Ash? If any of them could have been a machine, it was him.

Every inch of him was engineered for strength and endurance, and all of it was unapologetically real.

He caught my gaze, the edge of a grin flickering at the corner of his mouth. “See something you like?”

“Everything,” I answered, refusing to give less than the full truth. It was his handshake, his rule of the game. “You’re not what I expected.”

He stepped closer. “How so?” His hands landed on my thighs, heavy, grounding.

“More,” I murmured, because no other word fit. “You’re a hell of a lot more than you let anyone see.”

Something burned behind his eyes, not quite a smile, not quite relief, but close. “Most people don’t bother looking.”

“I’m looking now.” I reached out and traced the planes of his chest, the hard lines beneath my fingertips proof of who he was beneath all that silence.

His hands tightened, a shot of real feeling that betrayed what my words did to him. “Lie back,” he said, his voice all Alpha command, cool and irrevocable.

I did as I was told. The workbench was cold under my back, scattered with bits of tech and half-built projects, a mess that screamed Ash, down to the last hex bolt. My skin prickled with the contrast.

“Perfect,” he said, voice gone softer, the word vibrating through my skin as he nudged my thighs wider and fit himself between them. “Now let me show you everything I’ve learned about your new system.”

Methodical wasn’t a strong enough word. Ash didn’t just touch me, he studied me. He moved like an architect working from an original blueprint no one else could read, mapping me in exacting detail.

Every sweep of his tongue, every precise curl of his fingers was a test. The faint twitch of my thigh? Logged. The hitch in my breath? Memorized. He catalogued my body the way he might a complex build, testing tolerances, adjusting for maximum efficiency.

His mouth wasn’t frantic. It was focused . He tasted me in slow, measured drags, not chasing his own urgency, but refining my response until I was on the edge without realizing how I’d gotten there.

My scent thickened with each pass of his tongue, filling the air with heat and salt-sweet Omega need.

He inhaled it like it was the only oxygen he wanted, his nostrils flaring faintly before he pressed deeper.

The sound that rumbled low in his chest wasn’t hunger, it was satisfaction at data collected and stored.

Pressure wound tight in my belly, sharp and hot. My hands fisted in his hair.

“Ash,” I gasped, hips rolling helplessly toward him, “I’m going to–”

“Not yet.” He pulled back, his mouth wet with me, and the cool absence made me cry out. “You’ll come when I say you can.”

The command went straight through me, my Omega instincts twisting tight. Ash didn’t just want me undone, he wanted me obedient .

“Please,” I said, dignity already stripped bare.

“Soon.” He rose over me in one smooth motion, his body all heat and control as he braced above. The heavy length of him pressed against me without entering, smearing slick across my folds in a slow drag. “But you need to understand something first.”

It took effort to focus past the pressure. “What?”

“This isn’t just physical,” he said, voice low and certain. “When I claim you, when I mark you, it’s not just my taking. I’m giving you something I can’t get back.”

The honesty startled me. “I get it,” I whispered, and I did.

“Do you?” The blunt head of his cock pressed harder, enough to make my breath break. “Because my claim isn’t going to be like theirs. I don’t share well. Not even with the pack.”

The admission should have lit warning bells. Instead, it made my pulse leap. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying some part of you will be mine alone. And the same for me. An exclusive link inside the larger bond.”

It wasn’t a threat, it was an oath. My free will twitched at the idea, but there was no coercion in it. Ash’s offer was foundation, not a cage.

“Yes,” I said, the truth of it digging deep. “A part just for us.”

Relief flashed in his eyes before his restraint snapped into motion. He thrust forward in one smooth drive, burying himself to the hilt. The sudden stretch stole my breath, my body tightening reflexively around him. My scent spiked sharp and high, and his groan was raw in my ear.

“Mine,” he growled, hands locking onto my hips with precision grip.

His thrusts began slow but weighty, each one perfectly angled. He wasn’t guessing—he knew what each shift would do. Every grind of his pelvis, every controlled roll of his hips was tuned to pull another gasp, another clench from me.

“Look at me,” he ordered when my head tilted back. His fingers caught my chin, tilting it until his glacial stare pinned me in place. “I want your eyes when it happens.”

I held them open, even as the pressure coiled so tight I could barely breathe. I saw his focus, the calculation, the intent.

“Now,” he said, and his thumb found my clit with ruthless accuracy. “Come for me, Kara. Show me what I built.”

The climax ripped through me hard enough to steal my voice. My body clamped down around him, milking him in pulses, my scent spiking so rich it made my own head spin. His composure broke, his thrusts driving deeper, sharper.

And then his mouth was at my nape, the vulnerable spot no Alpha had touched. “Mine,” he said again, and bit deep.

The pain-pleasure bloom was sharp and hot, dragging me into a second, smaller climax as his teeth broke skin. The new bond surged into place, heavy and grounding, slotting beside the others with a distinctly Ash weight, solid, unshakable.

But he wasn’t finished.

His breath deepened, his body tensing as the base of his cock began to swell. I gasped at the pressure.

“Ash–”

“Relax,” he said, voice low and steady. “Let me in all the way.”

The knot thickened slowly, stretching me wider until it seated with a deep, inevitable lock. My walls fluttered around the swell, every pulse sending another wave of sensation spiraling through me.

“That’s it,” he murmured, stroking my hip. “Now you can’t run. Not from me. Not from this.”

The knot throbbed, heat spreading through my core with every measured grind of his hips. His hand found my clit again, slow at first, then circling with deliberate rhythm until my breath fractured.

“Come again,” he ordered, his own voice breaking with the strain. “Tighten on my knot. Make sure it knows who you belong to.”

The second orgasm tore through me, sharper for the fullness holding me open. My cry was muffled against his shoulder, but the way I clenched around him dragged a groan from his chest.

He stayed buried, the knot keeping us locked as our breathing slowed. He pressed his forehead to mine, his scent flooding over me, cool, sharp, edged with the dark, claiming note that would cling to me for days.

“You’re perfect like this,” he murmured. “Filled. Marked. Held.”

And with the knot pulsing between us and the burn of his bite still fresh at my nape, I knew he was right.

When he finally let go, we were both shaking. He stayed inside me, pressed forehead to mine, catching his breath. It felt like he’d given me something vital.

“Ash,” I whispered, and it meant everything and nothing all at once.

He understood. “I know,” he murmured back. “I felt it, too.”

The new bond was a pillar, humming under my skin. Different from the others, but not in competition. Reid’s was safety. Theo’s was joy, Jace’s was knowing. Ash’s? Foundation. The thing that held it all together, the structure I’d never thought I’d need.

He slipped out, careful not to hurt me. I thought he’d let me go, but he just bundled me up in his arms, holding me as if it was the only thing that would keep us both standing.

“You need rest,” he said, back to normal but softer, almost gentle. “And food. We’ll have to watch your system while the new bond settles in.”

I nodded into his chest, so drained I was floating. He helped me get dressed. I touched the fresh bite at my nape, not quite believing how different it felt to the others.

“Different,” I said quietly.

He covered my hand with his, large and warm. “As it should be. Every bond for every need.”

He was right, and suddenly, I understood. Reid claimed me for safety. Theo for joy. Jace for silent understanding. Ash for unwavering, necessary strength. Each mark was a promise, not just of ownership but of what only they could give.

But there was one left. One place in the network that hadn’t been filled. Malik.

Ash guided me out of the workshop, his hand heavy at the small of my back. I felt the pack bonds settle and adjust, four pieces slotted together, almost, but not quite, all the way.

Just one more bond waiting to be forged. One last link in the chain that would finally make me whole.