Chapter 29
KIERAN
She collapses into my arms, and her scent hits me like a physical force—heat mixed with her natural wildflowers, so potent it makes my head spin. My wolf surges forward with a roar of pure possession.
“Our mate needs us. Claim her.”
“Not like this,” I mutter, scooping her fully into my arms.
I need to get her somewhere private and safe.
I carry her through empty corridors, moving fast. My chambers are closer than hers.
I shoulder open the door and kick it shut behind us. The room is dark except for the dying embers in the fireplace, but I know every inch of it.
I lay her on my bed as gently as I can.
She whimpers at the loss of contact, her body instinctively seeking heat, comfort, her mate. The sound makes something in my chest crack.
Her nightgown is soaked with sweat, clinging to every curve. I force myself to look away, reaching for her robe that needs to come off—it’s tangled around her, restricting movement.
My hands shake slightly as I work the fabric free. She shifts restlessly, her breath coming in short gasps, and I catch the full force of her scent again.
Gods. The heat is strong. Stronger than I’ve ever felt from any female.
I toss the robe aside and move to the washbasin across the room. The water is cold—I splash some on my own face first, trying to clear my head, before soaking a cloth and wringing it out.
When I return to the bed, I press the cool fabric to her forehead.
She sighs at the contact, some of the tension leaving her face.
I should leave. Get a female servant to tend to her. This is dangerous—her in heat, me barely holding onto control. But even the thought of leaving her makes my wolf snarl with fury.
I sink into the chair beside the bed, the cloth still pressed to her forehead.
Her eyes flutter open.
For a moment, she just stares at the ceiling, confused. Then her gaze slides to me, and panic flashes across her face.
She tries to sit up quickly, the cloth falling to her head. “Where—?”
“You fainted.” I keep my voice carefully controlled, my eyes on her face and nowhere else. “You’re in my chambers.”
She looks around wildly, taking in the dark wood furniture, the massive fireplace, the weapons mounted on the walls. “Why did you bring me here?”
“You were in the courtyard in heat. I wasn’t leaving you there.”
She tries to sit up, her arms crossing over her chest. “I need to—”
Another wave of heat hits her.
I watch her curl in on herself, gasping, her whole body trembling. The scent intensifies, and my wolf throws himself against my consciousness so hard I have to grip the arms of the chair.
I move to the bed without conscious thought. “Let me help you.”
“No.” She shakes her head frantically, pressing herself back against the headboard. “You can’t. I don’t want—”
Her eyes change.
One moment they’re violet and terrified, the next they’re glowing with her wolf’s presence. When she speaks again, it’s not Seraphina’s voice—it’s deeper, more primal, desperate.
“Please. We need you. It hurts. Please touch us.”
Her wolf has taken control.
Then just as quickly, Seraphina shoves her back. Her eyes clear, and she’s scrambling off the bed, putting distance between us. “No! I don’t want you to touch me.”
The rejection hits harder than it should. But I understand.
“Your wolf wants me,” I say quietly, staying where I am. “But you don’t.”
She nods, tears streaming down her face. “I can’t. After everything, I just can’t.”
Silence stretches between us. She’s standing there in just her nightgown, trembling with fever and need, and every fiber of my being is screaming to cross the room and make her mine again.
“But you’re in pain.”
“I’ll manage.” Her voice cracks.
“You’ll suffer for hours, maybe days, without mating.”
Another wave hits her. She crumples, catching herself on the bedpost with a whimper that makes my chest ache.
“Let me make you a deal.”
She looks up at me, hair plastered to her face, eyes wide. “What deal?”
“I won’t claim you. Won’t take what you don’t want to give.” Each word costs me, but I force them out anyway. “But I can ease the pain. Help you through the worst of it.”
“How?”
“There are ways to relieve heat without full mating.” I hold her gaze, letting her see I’m serious. “I can touch you. Make you come. It won’t cure the heat completely, but it will take the edge off. Make it bearable.”
She stares at me, torn between pride and desperation.
“Why would you do that?” Suspicion colors her voice. “What do you get out of it?”
“Nothing.” The truth. “Because you’re suffering, and despite everything between us, I can’t watch you hurt when I can help.”
Her wolf pushes forward again, her eyes glowing as she tries to take control. “Please, please, please”
Seraphina fights her wolf, her own need. I watch the war rage across her face—wanting to accept but hating that she needs me, that her body betrays her this way.
Another wave crashes over her. This one makes her cry out, her knees buckling completely.
“Okay.” The word is barely audible. “Okay, help me.”
I move toward her slowly, giving her time to change her mind. She doesn’t back away, just stands there trembling as I close the distance between us.
“Tell me if you want me to stop.” I reach out carefully, my hand cupping her face. “Anytime. You say stop, and I stop.”
She nods, leaning into my palm despite herself.
I start with touching her face, trailing my fingers along her jaw, her neck. She’s burning up, her pulse racing under my fingertips. My wolf is practically purring with satisfaction at finally being allowed to touch our mate.
I kiss her throat where my mark used to be.
She gasps, her hands flying up to grip my shoulders. Not pushing me away—holding on.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” I murmur against her skin.
Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t respond. Just holds tighter as I work my way down her throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin.
I reach for the hem of her nightgown. “May I?”
She nods, and I pull the fabric up and over her head in one smooth motion.
She’s completely bare beneath it.
For a moment, I just look at her. Every curve, every line. She’s thinner than I remember—five years of stress and motherhood have changed her body slightly. But she’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Kieran” Her voice shakes.
“I know.” I guide her back to the bed, laying her down gently. “I’ve got you.”
I start with her shoulders, my hands sliding down her arms, relearning every inch of skin. She’s tense at first, holding herself rigid, but gradually she starts to relax under my touch.
My hands move to her breasts. They’re fuller than before—from carrying Azriel, from nursing him. I cup them gently, and she arches into my palms with a gasp.
“Sensitive,” I note, my thumbs brushing over her nipples.
She doesn’t answer, just bites her lip to keep from making noise.
I bend down and take one nipple into my mouth.
The sound she makes is pure need, her hands fisting in my hair. I work her with my tongue, my teeth, while my hand tends to her other breast. She’s writhing beneath me now, her hips moving restlessly.
I kiss my way down her stomach, pausing at the faint silver lines that mark where she carried our son. Stretch marks. I press my lips to each one, and she makes a choked sound above me.
When I reach the apex of her thighs, I look up at her. “Still okay?”
She nods frantically, beyond words now.
I spread her legs gently and nearly lose all control at what I find.
She’s slick and swollen, her body desperate for relief. The scent of her arousal mixed with heat is overwhelming.
“So wet for me,” I breathe, my fingers trailing through her folds.
She gasps, her hips jerking at the contact.
I start slowly, just circling that sensitive bundle of nerves while I watch her face. She’s fighting her response, trying not to give me the satisfaction of seeing how much she wants this.
But her body betrays her. Her hips move against my hand, seeking more pressure, more friction.
I slide one finger inside her, and she cries out.
“That’s it,” I murmur, working her with steady strokes. “Let go. Stop fighting it.”
She shakes her head stubbornly, even as her body clenches around my finger.
I add a second finger, stretching her, and her resistance crumbles. She’s gasping now, her hands gripping the sheets so hard her knuckles are white.
Then I lean down and taste her.
She breaks completely.
Her first orgasm crashes through her with devastating force. I feel her whole body seize, her inner walls clamping down on my fingers as she comes with a cry that makes my wolf howl with satisfaction.
But the heat demands more.
I start moving my fingers slowly, working her back up. She whimpers, her body oversensitive but unable to resist. I add my mouth back to the mix, tongue circling that bundle of nerves while my fingers curl inside her.
“I can’t,” she gasps, her hands fisting in my hair. “It’s too much—”
“You can.” I don’t let up, keeping the pressure steady and relentless. “Just let go.”
Her thighs start trembling. I feel her body coiling tighter, fighting the building pleasure because it’s overwhelming. I shift the angle of my fingers, finding that spot deep inside that makes her back arch off the bed.
“Kieran” My name is a broken plea.
“That’s it,” I murmur against her skin. “Give it to me.”
The second orgasm builds slowly, then crashes over her all at once. She’s crying now, tears streaming down her face from the intensity of it.
I kiss my way back up her body, giving her a moment to breathe. She’s trembling, exhausted, but I can feel the heat still burning through her veins.
“One more,” I whisper against her ear. “Just one more, and the fever will break.”
She shakes her head weakly. “I can’t take any more. Please”
“Yes, you can.” I slide my arms under her and lift her from the bed.
She makes a small sound of protest, but doesn’t fight as I carry her the few steps to the wall. The cool stone will help with her fever.
I press her back against it gently, and she gasps at the contrast—cold stone against her burning skin. Her legs are shaking too badly to support her weight.
“Wrap your legs around me,” I murmur, my hands gripping her thighs.
“I can’t hold on”
“I’ve got you.” I lift her easily, positioning her so her back is supported by the wall and her weight is in my hands. “I won’t let you fall.”
Her arms come around my neck instinctively, clinging. This position puts us face to face, more intimate than anything we’ve done so far. She can’t hide from me here, can’t look away.
I shift my grip, spreading her thighs wider, and she whimpers as the movement opens her completely.
“Look at me,” I say quietly.
Her eyes meet mine—violet and glassy with exhaustion and need.
I slide one hand between us.
The angle is completely different like this—deeper, more intense. When my fingers slide into her, gravity helps, and she gasps at how much fuller it feels.
“Kieran” She buries her face against my neck, unable to hold my gaze.
“I’ve got you,” I repeat, adjusting my grip so I can work her properly while still supporting her weight. “Just hold on to me.”
She does, her arms tightening around my shoulders as I move my hand. Every thrust of my fingers makes her body slide slightly against the wall, the cool stone a constant contrast to her fevered skin.
Her thighs are trembling violently where they’re wrapped around my waist. She’s too exhausted to help, too wrung out to do anything but take what I give her.
I curl my fingers inside her, pressing deep, and her whole body jerks in my arms.
“No more,” she sobs against my shoulder. “I can’t, there’s nothing left”
“There is.” I keep the rhythm steady, relentless. My other hand grips her ass, holding her exactly where I need her. “One more, and then you can rest.”
She’s crying now—soft, broken sounds that make my chest ache. But her body is responding despite her protests, inner walls starting to flutter around my fingers.
I shift slightly, changing the angle, and she makes a sound I’ve never heard from her before—raw and desperate and completely undone.
“Give in,” I murmur against her ear. “I’m right here. I won’t let you fall.”
Her body goes rigid in my arms, every muscle locking up. For a heartbeat, she doesn’t even breathe.
Then she breaks.
This orgasm tears through her differently—she can’t arch away from it, can’t escape the intensity. Pinned between my body and the wall, she has nowhere to go as wave after wave crashes over her. She sobs my name into my shoulder, her whole body shaking with the force of it.
I feel the heat fever finally break.
I carry her back to the bed and lay her down gently. She immediately curls into my chest, her face pressed against my shoulder.
“Sleep,” I murmur, stroking her damp hair back from her face. “I’ve got you.”
She’s too exhausted to resist. Within minutes, her breathing evens out, her body going completely limp against mine.
I hold her as she sleeps, feeling the bond between us pulse with new strength. It’s not whole—the rejection left scars that haven’t healed. But for the first time in five years, it doesn’t feel completely dead either.
