A longer sentence

Soren’s POV 

He reached out to touch my lips, and I flinched before I could stop myself. He gave me a look that said he knew exactly what I thought of him now. His fingers traced the damage from Zek's slaps, the dented handprints still hot on my cheeks.

 He let out a slow sigh. My face was beet red, one eye already swelling shut from the blows. Most wouldn't believe it, but that was Zek holding back. I had watched him kill traitors and humans with a single slap, snapping their necks like twigs.

Veyron leaned in. I met his eyes, and his frown deepened. "Close your eyes."

I obeyed, shutting them tight, surrendering to the darkness. His lips met mine. The kiss was soft at first, then came his tongue and something metallic that tasted of vanilla and copper. I knew it instantly. Veyron's blood.

He never bled unless he chose to. His blood was currency in our pack, harvested by scientists for healing syrups and pills that cured everything from infections to cancer. Taken directly, it granted rapid healing, surging energy, vitality that made the recipient feel reborn.

Seconds ago, my head had pounded. My abdomen had ached with deep bruising. Now those sensations evaporated, replaced by humming warmth spreading through my chest. He pulled back, the cut on his lip already sealed.

"No excuses," he said. "Let's get this over with."

Our eyes locked, and my heart stuttered.

He was breathlessly handsome. Was it the dark hair framing his raven eyes? The straight nose, the Cupid's bow lips, the sharp jawline? The eyes that looked naturally lined beneath arched brows and long lashes?

My gaze traveled lower, traitorous and hungry. He had been blessed by every god. The elegant neck, the black tattoos claiming his shoulder and chest like marks of conquest. Everything about him screamed power…Sun-kissed skin stretched over abs carved from stone. Lean, functional muscle, not bulky, but power that could dismantle men twice his size. And between his legs, more endowed than any wolf I had known.

I shouldn't have these thoughts for my cousin. I shouldn't see my cousin and imagine myself as one of the dominant omegas he took to his bed, but I did. He was a temptation I had barely escaped in my youth. Now, with his pheromones thickening the air and his beauty forcing me to remember a past I'd buried, I felt utterly vulnerable.

He moved suddenly, flipping me onto my stomach. Before I could react, he positioned me on my knees, ass raised, face pressed into the white sheets. The posture was submissive, humiliating, and my cheeks burned with it.

"Keep it that way," he commanded. "I don't want to see your face."

The words should have cut me. But then I remembered: he probably hated me. He was doing this out of spite, out of primal instinct. That made us even. I was doing this to survive long enough to correct my mistakes. He was doing this because his wolf had always found me attractive, but the opportunity had never arisen to fuck his own cousin.

He parted my legs with rough hands, positioning himself between my thighs. The thick head of his cock prodded my tight entrance, and a whimper escaped my throat. "Veyron... it has been years."

He paused. "So  you're a virgin?"

"I'm not... but I've never done it since we..." I couldn't finish. The memory of our last time, before the first betrayal, rose up and choked me.

He chuckled, dark and humorless. "Fine. I'll try to be gentle with a traitor."

The next sensation was white-hot agony. He pushed forward in one sharp, gut-wrenching thrust. I screamed into the mattress, the sound torn from my lungs.

"Is that gentle enough for you, dear cousin?"

Pain flooded my senses. My toes curled until they cramped. My insides burned around the intrusion. I couldn't breathe. It felt like being split open by a burning brand. Tears poured down my face, soaking the sheets.

He stayed buried deep, unmoving, as if giving me a chance to adjust to his length. His hands gripped my hips, fingers digging in, preparing to move.

I squeezed my eyes shut, sweat pooling at my back as I braced for more torture. But when he pulled back and slammed in again, instead of pain he struck something inside me that made my stomach twist with delirious pleasure. My eyes rolled back.

His pheromones hung thick, driving me insane. He established a rhythm, pulling back and slamming home until the room filled with the sound of skin against skin, coupled with my unrestrained moans.

He kept hitting that spot until my untouched cock spilled onto the sheets, until my hole produced slick that eased his way. Omegas didn't need artificial lubricants. I had believed that as a recessive omega, I would require assistance. Veyron was proving me wrong with every thrust, my body betraying me by welcoming him.

The sound grew louder, wetter, as if my arousal stimulated him further. "Vey—Ron, slow... down," I begged, but my mouth worked against my own interests. I didn't want him to slow. I wanted more.

He said nothing, only slamming harder. The air reeked of sex and pheromones. I lost count after my fifth orgasm, my body shaking through waves that left me limp. He hadn't finished once, his stamina relentless.

He was trying to maintain the rule of no eye contact, but I broke it. I turned my head to look over my shoulder, needing to see his control slip.

"Fuck," he cursed, his rhythm faltering. He pulled out abruptly, leaving me empty, then flipped me onto my back with rough hands. He pushed my legs up to his shoulders and re-entered me in one smooth thrust.

I cried out louder, watching now as he penetrated me, watching the obscene sight of his length disappearing inside me, how slick and easy it had become. At last he slammed deep and held there, grinding against that spot, and I felt it. Hot pulses flooding me. Butterflies exploding in my stomach. He grunted, lowering himself until we were face to face.

Again, our eyes locked, crackling with unspoken things. Regret. Desire.

He was the first to break, turning his head to push my face aside. "I said not to look at me."

Tears welled up fresh, and I bit my lip until I tasted blood. What had I expected? We hated each other. There was no need to lock eyes, no need to feel this terrible tenderness between enemies.

But then something strange happened.

Veyron tried to pull out but he was stuck. No matter how he shifted, he couldn't break free. We both looked down, then up at each other, realization dawning.

We had knotted.

His eyes widened, panic flickering there for the first time. My breath caught in my throat. The  knot was sacred, biological, important. It meant a change in pregnancy.

He let out a ragged, harsh breath.

"Well," he murmured, his voice as cold as a winter grave. "It seems nature has made its choice."

He didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, his hand pinning my jaw until I was forced to look into his eyes.

"Congratulations, Soren. You just bought yourself a much longer sentence."