Page 55 of Rook

Suddenly, Gunnar surges to his feet. The room seems to shrink as he looms over me, a mountain of muscle and barely contained fury. My breath hitches; I can feel the raw power rolling off him in waves, crashing against my senses.

“Rich, coming from you,” he growls, each word a slab of concrete laid at my feet. “After all the times you kept me in the dark, Aisling. After every deception you spun around me.”

From the corner of my eye, I catch Luka rising from his chair, a low snarl rumbling in his throat—an animal sound that promises violence to anyone who dares threaten his omega. It’s instinctive, I know, but it still makes heat rise in the pit of my stomach, my whole body aching for just one of them to touch me.

“Look, I—“ My words cut off as Gunnar steps forward, his movements deliberate, predatory. I’m backpedaling before I realize, and suddenly, there’s nowhere left to go. My spine hits a wall of unyielding heat—Luka’s chest. His presence sends a jolt through me, an electric reminder of our unwanted bond.

Time seems to hang in the balance, teetering on the edge of something dangerous. There’s a scent in the air, a mix of their alpha pheromones that winds around me, tightening like a vice.

And I feel it—the onset of my heat—bearing down on me with the unstoppable force of a freight train.

This is bad, bad timing…but I’m already in it, aren’t I?

“Damn it, Aisling, I’m not one of your pawns.” Gunnar’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp and clear.

I swallow hard, trying to cling to sanity as the hormonal cocktail stirs up a storm within me. But it’s no use. Heat licks at my core, flames licking higher with each passing second. I can’t stop the tremble that courses through me or the way my body leans into Luka’s solid form for support.

“Never thought you were,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper. But it’s lost to the roaring in my ears—the sound of my own body betraying me, succumbing to the primal call of nature.

Gunnar’s frown deepens, a storm brewing in his eyes as he reads the signals my body can’t help but emit. There’s a moment where I think he might just turn and leave, but that thought evaporates as Luka’s hands begin their dance up and down my arms, setting my skin ablaze with every touch.

“Stop,” Gunnar growls, but it’s not an order—it’s a plea, gruff and barely audible.

Luka doesn’t stop; his fingers are insistent, tracing patterns on my flesh that send shivers to my very core. I’m caught between them, and I can’t find it in me to protest—not when every cell in my body is screaming for their touch.

And then Gunnar’s lips are on mine, hard and unyielding.

It’s not gentle. It’s nothing like the tender moments we’ve shared before. This kiss is raw, fueled by weeks of pent-up longing and laced with a desperation that mirrors my own.

“Fuck, Ais,” Gunnar murmurs against my mouth, his breath hot and heavy.

My name has never sounded better than it does on his lips.

I respond instinctively, my lips parting to welcome the invasion of his tongue. It’s a dance of dominance and surrender, and I’m lost in the rhythm, lost to everything but the taste of him—the taste of home, of pain and pleasure mingled together.

Luka’s lips find the vulnerable expanse of my throat, and his teeth graze lightly, sending a jolt straight to my core. My head falls back onto his shoulder, giving him better access, and a soft moan escapes me, betraying the storm of desire raging inside.

“Mine,” Gunnar claims, his voice a rough whisper that ripples through the heated air.

“Yours,” I gasp out, a declaration, a plea, a truth that binds us together in this tangled web of passion and power.

Their hands are everywhere, and I am nothing but sensations—every stroke, every nip, every caress amplified by the heat that threatens to consume me whole. The world narrows down to this room, this moment, these two alphas who hold me suspended between agony and ecstasy.

The heat swells within me, a tidal wave crashing against the shore of my self-restraint. Luka’s voice is a husky whisper in my ear, “You smell like heaven on fire, Ais.”

I can’t help but arch into him, my skin prickling with anticipation. It’s as if every part of me recognizes their claim, their touch setting off sparks that threaten to ignite my entire being.

“Stay still,” Gunnar commands, his hands gripping my dress, hiking it up with an urgency that mirrors the pounding of my heart. His fingers are deft as they rip through the delicate fabric of my panties, shredding them from my body with a roughness that sends a thrill spiraling through me.

“Sorry, Ais,” he doesn’t sound sorry at all, “but these were in the way.”

I barely register the loss of the material before his head dips, and I feel the warm brush of his breath against my most intimate flesh. A sharp gasp escapes my lips as his tongue finds me, painting strokes of pure pleasure that make my knees buckle…and Gunnar is there to catch me, hitching my legs over his shoulders, smoothing his big hands up my thighs.

Luka’s arms are the only thing keeping me upright, his hands sliding under my lifted dress to caress the soft mounds of my breasts. He rolls my nipples between his fingers, tugging them gently, sending jolts of sensation straight to where Gunnar’s mouth works its magic.

“God, you taste even better than you smell,” Gunnar growls from below, his voice vibrating against me, making me shudder. “Keep her steady for me, Luka; I want to hear her sing for us.”

Luka’s grip tightens, one hand possessively cupping my breast while the other snakes around to hold my hip, steadying me as Gunnar devours me with a hunger that’s almost feral. The pleasure spirals tighter, coiling deep within me, and I’m caught between two storms, each one intent on claiming me entirely.

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