Please fuck me.

Rose’s POV

The door clicked Shut behind me with a finality that echoed in my bones—like a lock sliding home on a cage I had long since stopped wanting to escape. The sound was soft, deliberate, final. No going back now. Not that I wanted to. Not anymore.

The room enveloped me instantly, heavier and richer than any night before, thick with heat and promise. The single brass desk lamp spilled low amber light across towering bookshelves crammed with ancient tomes on pack wars, blood rites, and omega submission rituals that now felt written about me—every page a prophecy of my unraveling.

Candles in iron sconces flickered restlessly, throwing golden light over ritual objects laid out with deliberate care: coiled silver chains glinting like sleeping serpents, a bone-handled dagger beside an open grimoire, and across one corner of the massive oak desk, the thick black pelt of a defeated wolf—its empty eye sockets seeming to watch me with the same patient, predatory hunger Jason did. The hearth fire roared higher tonight, flames leaping as if feeding on the tension in the air, casting dancing shadows that licked across the walls like tongues.

And his scent—gods, his scent was everywhere. Sharp pine, woodsmoke, cold forged steel, and that deep, intoxicating alpha musk, thicker now, laced with unmistakable arousal he wasn’t hiding. It wrapped around me like a fist, sinking into my lungs, my blood, my aching core.

I stood just inside the threshold, boots rooted to the thick Persian rug, heart slamming against my ribs so violently I was certain he heard every frantic beat. My scent had betrayed me all day—sweet, ripe, omega in full bloom despite the six suppressant pills sitting sour and useless in my stomach. Slick coated my thighs, warm and sticky now in the room’s heat, the scent of my own need thick and undeniable, mingling with his until the air felt drugged.

Jason filled the space, silver eyes locking onto mine instantly. Black shirt stretched across his broad chest, sleeves rolled high to reveal scarred forearms corded with muscle and old violence—marks of battles won, of dominance earned. Top buttons undone, exposing the strong column of his throat and the pale slash of a scar disappearing beneath fabric. He looked rested, composed, lethal—and tonight his scent was heavier, alpha musk sharp with arousal, restraint fraying visibly at the edges. His cock was already straining against the front of his jeans, a thick, obvious ridge that made my mouth water and my wolf whine.

“You’re early again,” he said, voice low and rough, a lethal curve at his mouth that made my knees threaten to buckle.

“I couldn’t wait,” I whispered, raw truth spilling out like slick down my thighs. “I tried. All day. I couldn’t. I need—”

His eyes darkened completely, pupils swallowing silver. “Good girl.”

The praise hit like a drug—sharp, electric, sinking straight into my veins. My wolf preened shamelessly, tail thumping hard, a low rumble of satisfaction vibrating through my chest. I felt my slick gush anew, soaking my panties further.

He stepped close—close enough that his chest brushed mine, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to hold his gaze. His hand lifted, cupping my jaw possessively, thumb brushing my lower lip with deliberate tenderness that belied the storm in his eyes. His scent was overwhelming this close—pure alpha dominance, arousal thick enough to taste.

“Tell me,” he murmured, voice a velvet growl that vibrated through me. “Tell me exactly what you need tonight. Every filthy detail.”

“You,” I whispered, tears spilling over. “Your hands. Your mouth. Your cock inside me—stretching me, filling me, knotting me until I can’t breathe. Claiming me. Biting me. Making me yours forever. Please, Jason—I’ve earned it. I’ve held. I’ve obeyed. I’ve broken open for you every night. I’ve come on your fingers, tasted myself on your skin, begged like a desperate little omega. Please—fuck me. Knot me. Breed me.”

He growled—deep, primal, the sound rumbling from his chest and sinking straight into my core. His thumb pressed harder against my lip, slipping inside my mouth. I sucked it instinctively, tongue swirling, tasting salt and skin and him.

“Not yet, Rose,” he rasped, voice rough with restraint. “You’ve earned more touch. More pleasure. More of my control. But the full claiming—the knot, the bite, the bond—you’ll earn that when you’ve proven you can take everything I give without breaking posture. Tonight, we test absolute surrender. Tonight, you’ll feel me without seeing me. You’ll crave the sight of me until it hurts. Until you’re begging to watch me stroke my cock for you, come for you, while you sit there dripping and denied.”

My breath hitched, a sob escaping. Disappointment and fresh, dark arousal warred inside me—my wolf howling for the claiming, my body aching for any touch he’d give.

He stepped back, eyes raking over me like a physical caress. “Remove your jacket. Slowly. Let me see how desperate you are.”

My fingers fumbled to the zipper, clumsy with shaking. The slow rasp of metal teeth parting sounded obscene in the hush. Cool air kissed my arms as I shrugged the heavy fabric off, goosebumps racing across my skin. My shirt clung to sweat-damp curves, nipples tight and visible against thin cotton, aching for attention.

He watched every second, gaze tracing the fall of the jacket, the accelerated rise and fall of my chest. When I hesitated, clutching the folded jacket like a shield, he inclined his head toward the low side table.

“There. Neatly. Show me you can obey even when you’re shaking with need.”

I obeyed, smoothing the folds with exaggerated care, hyper-aware of his eyes on me.

“Better,” he murmured, approval warm and dangerous. “Now the boots. One at a time. I want to watch you bend for me.”

My breath hitched. “Jason—”

One dark brow arched. Silence stretched, patient and merciless.

I toed them off slowly, bending slightly to pull each one free, the rug soft under bare feet. The sudden loss of height left me smaller, diminished in his shadow—exactly how he wanted me.

“Good,” he said quietly. “Now sit. Spread for me.”

I lowered myself to the hard wooden chair, wood biting into bruised thighs. Bare feet curled against the rug for balance I no longer had. My thighs parted instinctively, jeans pulling tight across my soaked core.

He moved to the side table, picking up the coiled silver chains with deliberate slowness. They glinted in the firelight, cool and heavy.

My heart stuttered. “Jason—”

“Stillness,” he reminded softly, stepping behind me. “You’ll hold perfectly still while I bind you. Because you want to please me. Because you trust me to take you further. Because you’re my desperate little omega who needs to be restrained so she doesn’t hump my leg like a bitch in heat.”

“Yes, Jason,” I whispered, voice breaking, slick dripping faster at his words.

“Good girl.”

The first chain looped around my left wrist—cool metal kissing skin, then tightening gently but firmly, securing my arm to the chair’s armrest. The second followed on the right. He worked with ruthless patience, chains snug but not painful, pinning my arms at my sides. Then my ankles—chains looping around them, securing them to the chair legs, spreading my thighs wider now, forcing me open, vulnerable, exposed.

I trembled violently, slick gathering fresh at the vulnerability, the scent of my arousal thick in the air.

He stepped in front of me, silver eyes raking over my bound form. “Beautiful,” he murmured. “Completely open. Completely mine to tease. Look at you—tied up, thighs spread, pussy dripping through your jeans. I can smell how wet you are, Rose. How much you need this.”

From the same table he took a strip of black silk—soft, wide, folded neatly. A blindfold.

My breath caught. “Jason—”