Chapter 8 Last Nights Heat

• I didn’t breathe.
• I couldn’t.
• My lungs refused to work, my chest too tight, too full of everything I couldn’t say. The ache between my legs was still alive, still pulsing like a second heartbeat. Shame curled its claws into me, but so did something worse. Something deeper. Something dirtier.
• Desire.
• My robe was halfway open, clinging to my slick skin, exposing my thigh, my breast, the curve of my stomach still twitching with aftershocks I hadn’t earned.
• And Tasha?
• Tasha was standing there, sweat glowing on her skin, her hair a wild mess around her flushed face, and her eyes locked onto me like I was something she’d stepped in.
• “Lyra?!”
• Her voice cut through me like a lash.
• It didn’t sound like a best friend’s voice.
• It didn’t sound like concern.
• It sounded like accusation.
• It sounded like hate.
• Like I’d violated something sacred.
• Like I was the disgusting one.
• I blinked, my vision blurry. My heart was thudding so violently I could hear it in my ears, louder than her moans, louder than the slaps of skin still echoing from minutes ago.
• I tried to cover myself, but my hands were shaking too hard. The robe was twisted around my body like a trap. My thigh was exposed, glistening. My nipples were stiff and visible under the thin silk, and I could still feel the slick between my legs pooling, warm and wet and incriminating.
• She saw.
• Of course she fucking saw.
• Her eyes ran over every inch of me, slow and deliberate, like she was cataloging every ounce of filth she could find on my skin.
• And she didn’t even look surprised.
• She looked like she expected it.
• Like she already knew how disgusting I was.
• “What the fuck are you doing?” she snapped, grabbing a towel off the counter and wrapping it around her bare body with zero shame, tits still bouncing, her pussy still glistening between her thighs. “Were you just standing there watching me get fucked like some kind of pervert?”
• “No,” I whispered. My voice was paper-thin. Pathetic. “I didn’t mean to…”
• “Didn’t mean to?” she barked. “Then what, Lyra? What the fuck were you doing standing there in the dark with your robe open and your thighs soaking wet? What were you waiting for, huh? Your turn?”
• My breath caught in my throat.
• I wanted to speak.
• I wanted to deny it.
• But I couldn’t.
• Because she was right.
• I had watched.
• I had stood there, dripping down my legs, my fingers twitching like I wanted to touch myself again just from the sounds. Just from the way the Beta slammed into her. Just from the way she moaned.
• But she didn’t know the worst part.
• She didn’t know that it wasn’t the Beta I was imagining.
• That the cock in my fantasies wasn’t his.
• It was his.
• Damon.
• “You’re fucking disgusting,” she spat. “I saw your face, Lyra. You looked like you were gonna cream yourself just watching us.”
• Her words slapped me harder than any hand ever could.
• I wanted to shrink into the floor.
• I wanted to disappear.
• But my cunt was still pulsing.
• Still aching.
• Still betraying me.
• And she wasn’t done.
• “You want him, don’t you?” she said, her voice lower now. “You want the guard. That’s why you stood there dripping on the floor like a little bitch in heat. You wanted him to see you. You wanted him to stop fucking me and bend you over that fucking counter.”
• I swallowed hard.
• The truth twisted behind my teeth.
• No.
• Not him.
• Never him.
• But her eyes saw something else.
• And she hated it.
• “You wanted him to grab you by your hair,” she said, voice curling with poison. “To shove his cock inside you so deep you forgot your own name. You wanted him to fuck you stupid while I watched, huh? You sick little freak.”
• I opened my mouth. Closed it.
• The tears came before I could stop them.
• But they weren’t just tears of humiliation.
• They were tears of heat.
• Of pain.
• Of need.
• Because even now…especially now…I still wanted it.
• But not from the man she thought.
• I wanted to be bent over.
• Split open.
• Fucked senseless.
• But not by some Beta.
• Not by a soldier.
• By the man who ruined my mind just by walking past me. The man whose voice left me wet for hours. The one who hadn’t even touched me and still made me break.
• Damon.
• Alpha.
• Daddy.
• But she didn’t know.
• She crouched low, eye to eye with me, her breath hot in my skin.
• “Don’t you fucking dare tell anyone what you saw,” she hissed. “Especially not about me and the guard.”
• “If you even breathe a word, Lyra,” she said, her voice sharp as glass, “I’ll tell everyone what you looked like when I caught you. The way your thighs were shaking. The mess between your legs. The fucking look in your eyes. Like you were begging to be fucked next.”
• My cheeks burned so hot they could’ve blistered.
• But she wasn’t wrong.
• Because I had been begging.
• Silently.
• Shamelessly.
• For something darker.
• For something crueler.
• I didn’t answer.
• I just nodded.
• Because if I opened my mouth, I was scared I’d say his name.
• She stood up, her towel clinging to her skin, her mouth curled in that same smug, knowing smirk.
• “Good night,” she muttered as she walked away, the Beta trailing behind her like a beast who’d just marked his territory.
• And me?
• I stayed there.
• On the floor.
• Legs still open.
• Skin still tingling.
• Throat still sore from every moan I hadn’t even realized I’d let out.
• I pulled my robe over me slowly. My hands were trembling. My body was still dripping.
• But it wasn’t over.
• Not even close.
• Because I could feel him.
• Somewhere in the house.
• Like he’d heard the shift in my body.
• Like he’d tasted the shame on my skin.
• Like he knew.
• And maybe.
• Just maybe.
• He was coming.
• For me.
• ~~
• I sat down there for a while. I didn’t care anymore.
• I just needed to drink.
• I needed to shut my brain the fuck off.
• I yanked open the fridge and grabbed the first bottle as I unscrewed the cap with shaking fingers.
• Raised it to my lips.
• And drank.
• Hard.
• The first gulp burned. It scorched its way down my throat and punched my lungs from the inside out. I coughed, wiped my mouth, and drank again. This time longer.
• I didn’t stop until my stomach clenched.
• Until the alcohol settled like liquid iron in my gut.
• Until the trembling dulled.
• Just a little.
• I braced my hand on the countertop, the marble cold under my palm. I could still hear her moaning in my head. Still hear the slap of skin, the wet sound of her pussy taking him, the Beta’s low grunts, the sound of flesh claiming flesh while I stood there like a shadow with soaked thighs and a starving womb.
• I drank again.
• Harder.
• “Just sleep,” I whispered to myself, voice shaking. “Just fucking sleep, Lyra. He doesn’t want you. You’re imagining everything. Just get drunk enough to forget.”
• But I didn’t forget.
• My cunt still pulsed.
• My mouth still ached.
• His voice still lived in my head like a devil.
• And then.
• “I thought I told you to stay away from me.”
• My whole body froze.
• The bottle slipped from my lips.
• My heart stopped.
• No.
• No.
• No no no no no.
• My stomach flipped, and every drop of alcohol I’d swallowed turned to fire and panic in my bloodstream.
• He was behind me.
• The man I’d just tried to drown in whiskey.
• The man who made my body betray me with nothing but a tone.
• I didn’t turn around.
• I couldn’t.
• My breath hitched. My robe was still gaping open at the chest, barely hanging on by the belt I’d never tied. I could feel the sweat cooling on my back. The air around me changed. Guess what? It thickened instead.
• My skin burned.
• He took a step closer.
• I could hear the soft fall of his bare feet on the tile. I wanted to sink through the floor but guess what? It wasn’t possible.
• “I said,” he repeated, “I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from me and anywhere I am.”
• My throat closed up.
• My hands clutched the edge of the counter like it could save me.
• But it couldn’t.
• Nothing could.
• Not when he was here.
• Not when he was close.
• “Hmm… yeah, you did,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I just came down to get a drink, that’s all.”
• But my voice cracked.
• I fucking gulped.
• Because I could feel him moving toward me slowly.
• The kind of slow that makes your breath catch and your knees twitch.
• I turned around…and he was there.
• Closer than I thought.
• His chest bare.
• His body all hard lines and ink and power.
• And his eyes?
• They were fucking fire.
• They didn’t look at my face. Not at first.
• They dropped.
• To my chest.
• To where my robe had fallen open, to my exposed cleavages.
• His hand lifted.
• And I swear my heart stopped.
• I held still. Completely still.
• Like if I moved, the moment would break.
• Like if I breathed too loud, he’d disappear.
• His fingers brushed my collarbone. Just lightly. Just enough to feel like a matchstick dragging across my skin.
• Then he went lower.
• His whole hand flattened and slowly dragged down the center of my chest. My pulse skipped. My pussy clenched. My throat went dry.
• He stopped just above my tits.
• Right in the center.
• Right where the fabric dipped and the skin was still warm from where I’d imagined him biting me there earlier.
• Fuck.
• Please squeeze it.
• Please touch me.
• Please make me cry from how good it feels.
• But he didn’t.
• He just let his hand hover there, his fingers twitching like he wanted to. Like he was thinking about it.
• And then his voice dropped.
• Rough. Dark. Filthy.
• “You’ve grown, Lyra.”
• I swear I almost came just from that.
• He said my name like a fucking price. Like it tasted wrong on his tongue, but he still wanted to say it again and again and again.
• “You’ve fucking grown,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Look at the size of your breasts now. You’re not a little girl anymore.”
• My breath hitched.
• My nipples peaked instantly, hard and aching, pressing against the silk like they wanted him to see. Like they needed his fucking mouth.
• “Oh fuck,” he said under his breath. “This is turning me on so fucking good.”
• I swallowed again.