Chapter 132

Amelia

The heat came for me like a tide, slow at first, then crashing. Every sense sharpened until even the air felt too heavy. Light scraped at my eyes, the hum of the vents throbbed against my skin, and beneath everything was one scent that cut through all the rest. His.

Whispers followed me down the hall. They didn’t need to say his name. I already knew. Richard’s rut had started.

By the time I reached the security wing, the air felt thin. My palms were slick, my mouth dry. Nathan stood with a clipboard and a look that warned me not to ask, but I did anyway. “Where is he?”

“You don’t want to see him right now,” he said, trying for calm.

“I do. Take me.”

He hesitated, then sighed. “If you go in, you follow his lead. No arguments. If you go in, you’re really in this. He doesn’t think you’re ready for what happens.”

“Fine.” My body trembled. The heat under my ribs was a living thing.

The hallway to the private wing was cold enough to bite. Nathan keyed in the code, and the lock hissed open. Air rolled out, it was dense and electric, filled with Richard’s scent. My knees nearly gave out.

“Go,” Nathan said quietly, and the door sealed behind me.

The room was dark, the light dim and soft. The hum of fans blended with the sound of steady, measured breathing. Richard stood near the cot, shirt damp and clinging to his shoulders. When he turned, his eyes hit me like a strike of lightning.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice rough with effort.

“Too late.”

He took a step closer but stopped himself. “Amelia. This rut, it’s stronger than usual, it’s hitting hard and fast. You’re not ready for what it does to me.”

“Then why do I feel like this?” My voice cracked. “Why can’t I think?”

He exhaled, his jaw tightening. “Because your body’s answering mine. You’re in your first heat.”

I stared at him, words gone. “You knew?”

“I suspected. Your wolf is quiet, but this… this proves it. I didn’t want to scare you.”

“You didn’t want me near you.”

“Because it stops feeling like choice,” he said softly. “That’s why I lock myself away. So no one gets hurt.”

“Then what am I doing here?”

His restraint wavered. “You tell me.”

My heart pounded. “I want you. I want you so fucking bad Richard”

He closed the space between us. His hand gripped my arm and dragged me closer, fingers digging into my skin. His breath hit my throat before his mouth found mine, rough and insistent. The kiss wasn’t soft, it was teeth and pressure, the pull of him trying to taste every breath I took. His other hand slid to the back of my neck, holding me still as our mouths moved together in sharp, greedy rhythm. I clung to him, gripping the fabric at his shoulders, meeting every push with equal force.

He pulled back just enough to look at me. “Say it,” he wrapped his hand around my neck. “Say you're mine.”

“I’m yours. I'm so fucking yours. I need you inside of me, please.” My voice was barely sound.

His hands grabbed my hips, fingers digging hard enough to make me gasp. He pulled me flush against him on the ground, before I knew it my clothes were torn off, our bodies grinding together in a steady rhythm.

"Please, please put it in" I whimpered.

"You really want it?"

"Please."

My hands braced against his chest, as he thrust into me, slowly, letting me feel every inch. Then he was picking up pace, each movement rougher than the last. His chest collided with mine, breath hot and uneven, the sound of skin against skin filling the space between us. Every thrust was urgent and primal, his hips guiding, mine matching, the rhythm quickening until it felt like the air itself was pulsing around us.

He whispered my name again and again, until it lost its meaning and became a sound of hunger. My lips grazed his shoulder; I tasted salt and faint copper. Had I bitten him? The metallic tang flooded my mouth, sharp and alive, and something deep inside me stirred, heat flaring hotter, wilder. The taste made everything spin, my body arching instinctively toward him as if that trace of blood had set fire to the rest of me. He froze, then steadied himself, seeing the shift in my eyes before I could hide it.

“You okay?” he asked, voice ragged.

“I've never been better in my life.” My head tipped back, dizzy from the rush. “Feels so good, you're so, so good at this.”

The tension snapped. His restraint broke, and he gathered me in his arms, our bodies finding the same rhythm. I couldn't keep a single thought in my head, only pure unrestrained pleasure. I didn't know it was possible to feel so incredibly out of control. The air was alive with a heartbeat, a breath, and the ungodly expletives cascading from both our mouths.

My first orgasm hit like thunder breaking, shaking every thought loose. My breath caught somewhere between a cry and a laugh, and he steadied me with his hands, whispering my name until the world found shape again.

“You okay?” he murmured.

“Holy shit. I'm so okay.”

He lay back, guiding me on top of him, never leaving my body. “Your pace now,” he said, his voice rough. “Tell me what you need.”

I ground against him, picking up the pace, fast, instinct taking over where words failed. Every shift pulled another breath from his chest, another sound from mine. He met each bounce with a rolling thrust, every movement measured to keep us balanced on the edge of control.

When the next wave came, it hit like a spark through water, blinding and clean. My entire body convulsed. He held me steady as it passed, his hand firm at my back, his heartbeat a steady drum beneath my palms.

After, he reached for the bottle of water, pressing it to my lips before taking a sip himself. The cool taste pulled me back. From a tray, he handed me a slice of orange. The sweetness hit like sunlight, sharp enough to make me gasp.

“This is how it works,” he said softly. “We go in waves. We rest, drink, breathe.”

“And we let instinct do the rest.”

“Exactly.” He brushed his thumb along my cheek. “If you feel too much or too little, tell me. I want this to be so good for you.”

I nodded. “I’m still angry you didn’t warn me.”

“I know.” His tone was quiet. “I didn’t want you to be afraid. Or to feel like your first heat was too weak.”

Outside, faint clicks and murmured orders echoed. Richard tilted his head, listening. “Nathan’s sealing the wing. He’ll post guards beyond scent range.”

“To keep us in?”

“And to keep everyone else out.” His hand found my waist, gentler now. “No one interrupts this.”

He lay beside me, arm draped over my hip, steady and warm. “Sleep. We’ll need strength for the next wave.”

“You’ll sleep too?”

“In a minute.”

The House fell quiet. The air cooled. The seals locked with a soft hiss I could feel in my bones. Heat ebbed through me like the tide going out, leaving everything warm and still. The last thing I felt was his breath against my hair and his hand resting at my hip, like he needed to keep me there.