The Lycan King's Outcast Omega
His hands find my shoulders, trembling, belying the strength in his grip; he’s so open, so honest in his pleasure, and I feel it mirrored down the bond, the taste of him flooding my senses like wine.
Lyra uses her free hand to tangle in my hair again, guiding me forward until I’m level with Kieran’s chest; his heart hammers so violently I laugh against his skin. He groans, low and helpless. I bare his throat the way a wolf bares prey, but instead of biting, I nuzzle the healing mark, mouthing it with a gentleness that makes him whimper louder. He’s more sensitive now, I realize—whatever the magic has done, it’s left all his edges raw and hungry.