Page 107 of Knot Your Fated M.U.S.E.

He responds immediately, gentling the kiss before growling against my lips.

"Don't fret, Omega.Relax."

The command in his voice, somehow both authoritative and tender even through his breathlessness, sends fire racing through my veins. Something inside me liquefies, and I feel an unfamiliar rush of wetness between my legs.

My core clenches with need I've never experienced, an ache so profound it makes me tremble. Without underwear beneath the thin medical gown, there's nothing to hide the evidence of my arousal. Slick trails down my inner thighs, and I know it's only moments before his enhanced alpha senses detect my response to him.

Panic starts to build —will he be disgusted that a strange omega is getting so worked up over a simple kiss? Will he be embarrassed by my obvious inexperience, my body's desperate reaction to the first gentle touch I've known in years?

My mind spirals with possibilities, each worse than the last.

For the first time, I understand why the shadows always sang to me — their voices would have drowned out this cascade of doubts and fears.

The kiss breaks suddenly, leaving me gasping for air.

My lungs burn, but it's nothing compared to the fire racing through the rest of my body. I'm trembling, but not from fear — this is something entirely new, something that makes me feel simultaneously powerful and vulnerable.

"Are you wet for me, Omega?" His whispered question carries such heat it makes me shiver. His voice is pitched low, intimate as if sharing a forbidden secret despite our solitude. The private nature of his inquiry, the way he makes it feel like we're the only two people in existence, pulls an honest response from my lips.

"Yes," I whisper back, matching his quiet tone.

The admission hangs between us, charged with possibility and uncertainty.

I've never done anything like this before, never experienced these sensations or navigated these waters. Part of me fears admitting my inexperience — would it make him stop? Would confessing my complete lack of knowledge end whatever this is building between us?

The wet heat between my legs grows more intense with each passing second, my body making its needs known despite my mind's hesitation. Every nerve ending feels impossibly alive, aware, waiting for his next move.

His scent wraps around me stronger than ever, carrying notes of arousal that make my head spin. Pine and leather take on spicier undertones, while that mountain air freshness gains a musky depth that hums for my reaction.

I should fear continuing: this situation, new sensations, and of this alpha who's awakened responses I didn't know I possessed.

Yet, I find myself wanting more, even though I have no idea what 'more' might entail.

The shadows remain silent, offering no guidance in this unexplored territory but their absence gives me a sense of liberation I didn’t think I needed. A moment that belongs solely to sensation, discovery, and whatever happens when an omega who's never known tenderness meets an alpha who seems to understand her without words.

His lips trail against mine with delicate precision while he presses his forehead to mine, both of us struggling to catch our breath.

An intercom crackles somewhere, a voice calling for "Atlas," but he ignores it completely.

The connection between us feels too precious to break for mere communication.

Is his name Atlas? A name that makes me feel as if he’s giving me a sense of direction.

With subtle guidance, his hand encouraging me to rise, I follow his lead.

The way his touch traces down my body suggests an intimate knowledge of every curve and hollow, despite never having touched me before. When I turn to face him, theheight difference strikes me immediately - my 5'3" frame feels distinctly diminutive against his towering presence of well over six feet.

He stays perfectly still as I press against him, an unspoken invitation to explore. Unable to resist such temptation, I place my hands lightly on his chest. The bulletproof vest blocks direct contact, making me yearn to trail my fingers across bare skin instead.

I keep my movements deliberately slow, understanding that his blindness likely enhances his other senses to acute levels.

My own experiences with sensory deprivation taught me how the body compensates — touch becomes electric, hearing sharpens to crystal clarity, and scent tells stories sight never could.

Consciously steadying my breathing, I try to convey security and comfort through my body's signals. The sense of safety I feel in his presence defies logic, given our dire circumstances, yet it feels undeniably real.

My hands venture upward, tracing the strong column of his neck before cupping his cheek.

When my thumbs brush lightly across his blindfold, his breath catches audibly. The gesture might seem presumptuous or territorial, but fascination drives me forward. Never have I been able to study an alpha this closely, not as a specimen but as an equal whose presence ignites rather than repulses.

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