He snarls and wraps his fist around the base of his cock before he yanks his cock out of my pussy. I extract my nails from his arms and watch stupidly as he covers my mons and the back of my thighs with his release.

With jerky movements, he breaks the straps of my shift and yanks the fabric down to bare my breasts. Heat pulses low in my abused abdomen as pearly white fluid splashes onto my nipples and trails down my pale curves.

He scrunches my dress in his hand and marks my stomach with his seed. The sight of my belly button filled with his release sends a surge of delight through my omega heart. My insides throb and fluid gushes from my opening, but very little slick joins his cum.

Fatigue and frustration sap the energy from my limbs, so I relax against the floor, uncaring about the uncomfortable position.

The Submarine’s features slingshot into my subconscious. I’ll never be free of him. He owns me now, even without marking or knotting me.

I never once entertained the idea of an alpha with such restraint. To fuck an omega on the verge of heat, but not knot her, goes against all expectations.

His control breaks my defenses quicker than anything else ever could.

Yes, it hurt. A lot.

But I’m not broken and bleeding, just sore and overwhelmed.

“What do I call you?” I ask.

“Alpha. Master. Satan. King of assholes,” he mumbles as he settles his hips between my splayed legs and lowers himself to his elbows, framing my head with his forearms.

His sardonic tone doesn’t register before my mouth moves without permission.

“No, I mean, what’s your name?”

“Why do you want to know, so you can curse me when I lose control and ravage you again?”

I blink up at him, my thoughts too far away for me to register the emotions in his voice.

“No, I need a name for my savior.”

He quirks a brow and brushes my hair back with achingly gentle strokes. Such gigantic, powerful hands shouldn’t be capable of such tenderness.

My breath hitches and a stray tear seeps down my temple.

“I don’t think savior is the right word to describe me, angel.”

“It is, though. None of the alphas at the slave market would have done what you just did. They would have knotted any and all of my holes the second they had the chance.” Fury darkens his eyes as he grinds his jaw, but I can’t stop my wayward mouth. “Whoever bought my first heat wouldn’t have shown such restraint, even with The Sisters overseeing the process. You—”

His hand covers the bottom half of my face, cutting me off and smearing the goop caked on my chin, and he leans down to growl in my ear.

“I shouldn’t have fucked you at all. Your body isn’t ready yet, but I couldn’t stop myself, so don’t make me into a saint.” He loosens his grip on my face and wipes the tear off my temple with his other thumb. “I can’t handle those innocent eyes staring so sweetly up at me. They make me want to do unspeakable things to you, little angel.”

What little saliva left in my mouth dries up. No more tears spill from my lashes, despite the lump in my throat.

His refusal to see my point of view only solidifies his goodness in my eyes.

He may have stolen, terrified, and hurt me, but he hasn’t injured me. He hasn’t crushed my spirit. He hasn’t used and discarded me.

I swallow.

My periphery fades to black. A cramp steals through my midsection, but no slick gushes from my pussy. I reach up and grab his sides, but my strength wanes and I lose my grasp on his shirt.

The moment he senses something wrong, he pulls me into his lap. With his pants tangled in his holsters and the benches so close together, the position proves more than awkward for him, but he angles his shoulders and wedges his knees against the opposite bench and wraps me in his arms.

For the first time in my life, I bask in a warm, living cocoon. It’s the best nest in the universe and I never want to leave.

A low, angry rumble leaves my chest as my perch moves. I fight the encroaching darkness, but a circle consumes my periphery and shrinks toward the center of my vision. I close my eyes, but my alpha shakes my shoulders.