Page 42 of Chain Me Knot

I'm going to make this right for all of us, even if it sends me to the ends of the seven hells. Emma deserves nothing less than our complete devotion, our absolute protection, our unconditional love.

“Moonbeam,” I murmur, cupping her jaw with gentle fingers. Her skin burns with heat fever under my touch, delicate bones sharp against my palm. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

Her lashes flutter against cheeks flushed with fever, then lift slowly. Even confused and heat-addled, her omega nature responds to her bonded alpha's command. Her blue eyes, glazed with fever and fear, find mine.

“There you are,” I whisper, and prepare to change everything. To show her what a true bond should feel like. To give her something better than an imaginary beach to escape to.

To become the alpha she deserves, or die trying.

“I want to help you. Would it be okay if I let you feel what's in my heart? Through our bond?”

The question tears at my conscience. She's not in her right mind. Heat and trauma and desperation have stripped away her defenses. Asking consent now is dubious at best, manipulative at worst, but watching her suffer, feeling her pain ripple through our connection while I hold back the tide of my own emotions...

When she's back in her own mind, when the heat fever breaks and she can think clearly again, I'll shut it all down. Wait for her to choose. But right now, with her body betraying her and her mind seeking escape in drowning, I can only pray this helps.

“Yes, alpha,” she whispers, the words slipping out on pure omega instinct. Her pupils are blown wide, fever-bright, seeking comfort from the only source her biology recognizes. “Please.”

Phoenix's hand tightens on my shoulder. Soren's breath catches. They feel my intention through our pack bond; understand the risk I'm about to take.

I cradle Emma's face between my palms. Taking a deep breath, I begin to lower the walls I've built around our bond.

Slowly. Carefully. Like opening a dam one gate at a time. First, I let her feel my protectiveness, the deep-seated need to stand between her and any threat. Her breath catches as this emotion floods the bond, her fingers tightening on my soaked shirt.

Next comes my remorse, pure and unfiltered. The crushing guilt for claiming her without consent, the self-loathing for becoming what I've fought against but wrapped around that guilt is my absolute dedication to making it right. She gasps, eyes widening as these feelings wash through her.

Then deeper emotions. My awe at her strength, her resilience, her ability to survive hell without losing her core self. My admiration for every small act of defiance, every spark of fight she's maintained. Pride in her courage, even when that courage led her to the pool's depths.

“Alpha,” she breathes, the sound small and wondering.

Deeper still. My joy at finding her, tainted by horror at her condition. My rage at her abusers, tempered by fierce determination to protect. My alpha's recognition of his perfect mate, coupled with the human patience to wait for her trust.

Her pupils dilate as each emotion flows through the bond. Her scent shifts, honeysuckle and vanilla thickening with the female musk of desire.

Finally, I let her feel my love. I send her everything my soft underbelly has to offer her. I completely open myself to her. I want her to know that what I feel isn’t just alpha instinct or biological drive, but real love, there from the moment I saw her. For everything I’ve seen since. For her spirit, her heart, her soul. Love that would wait forever, that would move mountains, that would die for her.

A sob catches in her throat, but it sounds different from her earlier despair. She whimpers, pressing closer to me. “I don't... I can't...”

“Let yourself feel something good,” I murmur.

If this is the only time she’ll allow me to show her how I feel, then so be it, but I want her to know it’s the full truth. I ache for her answering bite, for thecompletion of our bond that would let her emotions flow back to me. That will be her choice too, when she's ready.

Ifshe's ever ready.

For now, I let her feel my longing, my patient hunger for a true bond.

My thumb traces her bottom lip, and I let her feel how desperately I want to kiss her. Not to claim or possess, but to share comfort, to ease pain, to show her that touch can be gentle. Thatmytouch will always be gentle.

Her scent shifts, her sweetness giving way to musky vanilla deepening with arousal. Need pools in her eyes, darkening them to midnight blue. Her fingers thread through my wet hair, tentative at first, then with growing certainty. She pulls my head down toward her, offering her lips with a trust that makes my heart stutter. The gesture is pure omega instinct, but the choice is all hers.

I can't think. Can't wait. Can't do anything but accept what she's offering.

My lips meet hers, gentle at first, a bare whisper of contact. When she sighs into the kiss, lips parting slightly, I deepen it. Still careful, still controlled, but pouring everything into the connection.

This is nothing like the claiming bite. This isn't about possession or dominance. This is about showing her how precious she is, how cherished, how much more there is to alpha-omega bonds than what she's known.

Through our bond, I let her feel exactly what this kiss means to me. Let her feel how much I want to worship every inch of her, heal every hurt, kiss away every tear.

Chapter Seventeen

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