Page 140 of Run Little Omega

His teeth find my lower lip, biting hard enough to send sparks of pain-pleasure shooting down my spine. "I know exactly what you need."

Frost explodes outward from where our bodies connect, crystallizing the air around us in violent, beautiful patterns. His hands tangle in my hair, tugging my head back to expose my throat as his mouth descends. When his teeth graze my claiming mark, my knees actually buckle, a sound escaping my lips that I'd be mortified by if I could think clearly.

His arms encircle me, careful of my pregnant belly as he draws me closer. I feel his cock hardening against my hip, his body responding to our proximity with instinctive eagerness. Through our connected cillae, I sense his rut rising to meet my heat, our biology synchronizing as it was always meant to.

"I need you," I murmur against his mouth, the admission easier now than it's ever been. "Not just for them." I glance down at my rounded belly. "For me."

His pupils dilate at my words, ice-blue nearly disappearing as rut takes firmer hold. "Say it again," he growls, the sound vibrating through his chest against mine.

"I need you," I repeat, reaching between us to cup his hardness through his clothing. "I want you. Now."

With a sound that's half-groan, half-growl, he lifts me into his arms, carrying me to our bed with effortless strength. I find myself laughing as he sets me down among silks and furs, the simple joy of giving in to what we both want bubbling up unexpectedly.

"Something amusing?" he asks, removing his formal Winter Court attire with swift efficiency.

"Just... this." I gesture between us, watching in undisguised appreciation as his body is revealed. "The idea that for weeks we've been denying ourselves something we both desperately want, all because I was too proud to admit I'd forgiven you and you were too considerate to push."

His expression softens into something dangerous close to tenderness. "Have you? Forgiven me?"

I meet his gaze directly, not hiding from the question or my answer. "Yes. Not because what you did wasn't terrible, but because who you're becoming is someone worth forgiving." I reach for him, drawing him down beside me on the bed. "Someone worth loving."

The word hangs between us, neither of us having dared speak it before. His cillae flare brightly at my admission, blue-white light pulsing with the rhythm of his quickened heartbeat.

"Briar," he murmurs, my name emerging like a prayer.

"Don't make it a big thing," I warn, though my own patterns respond to his with matching brightness. "I'm just stating facts. Now are you going to claim me properly or shall I find someone else to help with my little magical crisis?"

The teasing provocation works exactly as intended. His eyes narrow, pupils expanding further as rut floods his system. "You're playing with fire, little deceiver."

"Maybe I want to burn," I challenge, heat rising in my own blood to match his rut. The little ones choose that moment to shift vigorously, as if responding to the change in my hormones.

Cadeyrn's attention drops to my belly, his expression shifting from predatory to something I can only describe as reverent. He places his palm gently over the swell where the most movement centers, cillae flowing from his skin to mine in glowing rivulets.

"They know," he says softly. "They feel the bond between us, the ancient power that flows through them."

"They know their father," I agree, placing my hand over his. "They've always responded to you, even when I was still trying to hate you."

His gaze returns to mine, something vulnerable and fierce in his expression. "I don't deserve this. Any of it. You. Them. This chance at..." He trails off, the word 'redemption' hanging unspoken between us.

"Maybe it's not about deserving," I suggest, reaching up to trace the cillae that spiral across his cheek. "Maybe it's about becoming. About who we are now, not who we were."

His kiss is urgent this time, need overtaking tenderness as he presses me back against the bed. I go willingly, eagerly, heat rising through my body in welcome waves. My dress becomes an unwelcome barrier, frustrating both of us until he simply tears it open with a growl that sends shivers down my spine.

"I'll have new ones made," he promises against my throat, teeth grazing my claiming mark in a way that makes my back arch involuntarily.

"I don't care about the fucking dress," I gasp, hands exploring the powerful muscles of his back as he moves lower. "I care about feeling you against me. Now."

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against my skin where his mouth explores the cillae spiraling between my breasts. "Always so demanding."

"You love it," I retort without thinking.

His movements pause, his gaze rising to meet mine with startling intensity. "Yes," he says simply. "I do."

The admission steals my breath, the naked honesty in his eyes more disarming than any physical touch. Before I can form a response, his mouth continues its journey downward, trailing kisses across my swollen belly with such genuine reverence that tears prick unexpectedly at my eyes.

"Beautiful," he murmurs against my skin, hands cradling the curve of my belly as if it's something precious beyond value. "Perfect."

The praise would have made me snort with disbelief weeks ago. Now it makes my chest ache with emotions I've never allowed myself to feel before. My body responds by growing wetter between my thighs, my heat rising to meet his rut with eager anticipation.

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