Chapter 14: Let Me Take Care Of You

Iris's POV

I swallowed, my throat felt raw.

The taste of him was still on my tongue, whiskey and something darker, something alpha. My own scent was everywhere, too: sweet, the unmistakable musk of an omega in heat. I was lying against his chest on the study sofa.

Rafael's hair was a mess, his lips slightly swollen from kissing me, from biting me.

The heat had eased, the sharpest edge of it, anyway, the unbearable burning that had driven me down those stairs

I sat up slowly.

He felt the movement and his hand came to my back. "Hey?"

"I need..." I stopped. I pressed my lips together and looked at the dark study and the closed door. "I'm going upstairs,"

He was quiet for a moment. "Iris..."

"I just need a minute." I stood up. His shirt fell to my mid-thigh and I pulled it tighter around me. "I'll be fine. I just... I need a minute to think."

He let me go.

I found my shorts on the floor, pulled them on, and slipped out of the study into the dark hallway.

My legs were still unsteady. The hallway was dim, the stairs stretching up ahead of me like a lifeline. I could lock myself in my room, ride out the rest of the heat alone, pretend this never happened.

The second wave hit me like a train.

One second, I was climbing the stairs, my fingers gripping the banister. The next, my vision whited out, my knees buckling beneath me. A sound tore from my throat, half gasp, half whimper as my body locked up, every nerve ending screaming. My skin felt too tight, my core aching, empty, wrong.

I doubled over, my forehead pressing against the cool wood of the banister, my nails digging in until I was sure I’d draw blood.

No. No, no, no.

I’d been through heats before. I knew what they felt like, the slow build, the cresting waves, the way my body turned into a furnace, demanding touch, demanding more. But this? This was different. This was worse, because my body wasn’t just in heat.

It had chosen.

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. My omega instincts, traitorous and primal, had latched onto his scent, the cedar and smoke and alpha musk of him, and now every step away from him was pain. My skin prickled, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. I could smell him, even from here, could taste him, and my body was screaming for more.

“Oh no,” I whispered, my voice breaking.

I stood there for what felt like an eternity, my body trembling, my mind racing. I could do this.

I could force myself up the stairs. I could lock the door.

A floorboard creaked.

I turned my head just enough to see him standing in the doorway of the study, his broad frame filling the space. He hadn’t moved closer, hadn’t said a word, but his eyes were on me, dark and knowing, and

My fingers tightened around the banister. I could do this.

I took a step up.

Pain lanced through me, sharp and brutal, like my body was tearing itself apart from the inside. A whimper escaped me before I could stop it, my legs nearly giving out. I grabbed the banister harder, my knuckles turning white.

One more step, just one more.

I forced myself upward.

The pain spiked. My vision blurred, my breath coming in ragged gasps. My skin felt like it was on fire, my core clenching around nothing, aching, empty. A sound tore from my throat, something between a sob and a growl.

I stood there, frozen, my body trembling, my mind racing.

I took another step.

The pain was unbearable. My legs buckled, my knees hitting the stairs hard enough to bruise. A broken sound escaped me, my fingers clawing at the wood, my body begging me to stop. To go back.

To submit.

I turned around.

Rafael was still in the doorway, his expression unreadable, but his hands were clenched at his sides, his knuckles white, like he was forcing himself not to move, not to claim.

Our eyes met.

He didn’t smile. He just held out a hand.

I took it. My body melted the second his fingers brushed against my wrist, my heat easing just enough that I could breathe again.

"Second wave?" he said quietly.

"Yes." I said.

He nodded once, like he'd known it was coming. Then he was pulling me toward him, his hand warm and firm around mine, his body a wall of heat and strength.

"Rafael..." My voice came out shaky.

"You're shaking," he said simply.

He was right. I was.

He carried me up the stairs and past the guest room door and I didn't say a word, just pressed my face into his neck and breathed him in and felt the heat ease back to something manageable with every step he took.

He carried me to his bedroom, the master suite with the heavy dark wood door.

I swallowed hard. He pushed it open with his shoulder.

Inside was quiet and warm and smelled like him, cedar and something deeper, something that my omega had been tracking for days and finally had permission to want openly.

He set me on the edge of the bed and stood in front of me and tipped my chin up. "You don't have to fight it."

His hands came up, cupping my face, his thumbs brushing over my cheekbones. His touch was gentle. It made my chest ache.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured.

Then his mouth found mine, his kiss slow and deep, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that made my knees weak. I melted into him, my body aching for more.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his grey eyes dark with hunger. “Tell me what you need.”

I couldn’t. The words stuck in my throat, my face burning.

He waited.

His fingers traced the line of my jaw, his thumb brushing over my lower lip. “Use your words, Iris.”

I whimpered, my hips shifting restlessly. “You. Please.”

His chuckle was low, satisfied. “Good girl.”