The force of his climax triggered my own. My world exploded into a million points of light, and he dragged me down into oblivion with him.
A final, lingering pulse faded, leaving me limp and satisfied. He didn’t pull away. He couldn’t. His swollen knot remained locked tight inside my core, keeping our bodies intimately flushed and fused together.
When he collapsed, his momentum pulled me down with him. We landed on our sides in a tangle of sweat-slicked limbs, still bound by his knot. The roaring in my ears subsided, replaced by a sudden, ringing quiet. The only sound left in the universe was the ragged drag of our breathing, a harsh rhythm in the dark.
He didn’t speak. He just exhaled, a long, shuddering breath that seemed to empty him of the last of the storm. He pulled me more fully against his side, tucking my head into the hollow of his shoulder. His arm settled over my waist, an anchoring weight in the darkness. His scent completely enveloped mine in a protective cocoon.
“Tell me then,” he murmured. “What’s your name?”
A soft, yielding sound left my throat. “Andromeda.”
Just like that, my eyelids became impossibly heavy. The adrenaline, the wine, and the magic all crashed at once. His hold was a warm, solid anchor in the darkness, and I didn’t fight it. I just sank.
My head throbbed, a dull, relentless hammer against my skull. I groaned, the sound a raw scrape in my throat. I tried to roll away from the merciless beam of sunlight lancing through the porthole, but a heavy weight pinned me in place. An arm. Solid, warm, and possessively settled across my waist.
Heat on my skin. The sharp sound of tearing silk. A deep voice growling a command.The fragments of the night before flashed through my mind’s eye.
I was naked. I was in bed with Alexander Stormwright. A cold, nauseating dread coiled in my stomach. The wine and magic that had felt so liberating hours ago now soured in my gut.
For the life of me, I couldn’t fathom what had possessed me to act this way. I’d reached for him myself, practically begged for his touch. That was already bad enough. But whenever something like this happened, when an Omega lost her head, an Alpha was bound to take advantage. Had Stormwright… Had he claimed me?
Panic seized my chest, sharp and suffocating. “No, no, no, no…” I croaked out.
I reached for my throat, desperately praying to all the ancestors I so often cursed. But when I brushed my hand over my bonding gland, there was nothing there. No mark. No sign of a possible bond. I was fine. I was safe.
I could have cried in relief. But my moment of respite was short-lived. A soft knock sounded at the door. I flinched, suddenly reminded that the outside world existed.
“Andie?” a familiar voice called out. “Are you in there? The party’s over.”
Danae. No, absolutely not. She could not see me like this. I scrambled to get free, my movements clumsy against the dead weight of Alexander’s arm. He stirred and his hold tightened, pulling me closer against the solid wall of his body.
The door creaked open. Danae peeked inside. Her smile faltered when she saw me. I was trapped and exposed, with the head of House Zeus asleep beside me. Her gaze shot to the ruined pile of my dress on the floor.
“Oh,” she said, a little awkwardly. “I see. You, uh… found the after-party.”
Heat flooded my cheeks. I pulled the sheet up to my chin, the thin fabric a pathetic shield. “It’s not what you think.”
“Andie, your dress is ripped in half and Alexander Stormwright is in your bed. I’m pretty sure it’sexactlywhat I think.” She took a step forward and hesitated. “Are you okay? Did he…”
Danae’s presence finally broke through Alexander’s sleep. He stirred beside me, a slow, waking stretch. His eyes cracked open and immediately found me. A slow, possessive smile spread across his lips.
“Morning,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rasp.
That single word, so casual, so utterly devoid of regret, ignited the fury simmering beneath my shame. It was a claim. On me. On the morning. On the night before. Perhaps not as intense as a bite would have been, but still there. Every instinct in my body revolted.
“Don’t,” I snapped, the single word a whip crack in the quiet room. “Don’t you dare speak to me.”
His smile vanished. Confusion clouded his features as he pushed himself up on one elbow, the sheet falling to his waist. “What are you talking about? Last night…”
“Last night was a mistake,” I seethed, the poison of the words a necessary release. “A disgusting, pathetic mistake. You got what you wanted. Congratulations.”
The confusion in his eyes hardened into something cold and sharp. Without a sound, he threw back the sheet and rose from the bed. He moved with a deliberate, coiled grace, finding his trousers on the floor and jerking them on. I shrank back against the headboard, the thin sheet clutched to my chest. The sight of him armoring himself in his clothes while I lay exposed and naked was a fresh humiliation.
“Now leave,” I commanded.
He finished with his trousers and grabbed his shirt, his movements sharp and efficient. He didn’t look at me, his focus entirely on the buttons. When he was fully dressed, he finally turned. The warmth and passion from the night before were gone, replaced by a cold, unreadable distance.
He walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. “As you wish.”