The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 151

Alaric

I gather Sage closer, her skin burning against mine as another wave of heat gradually builds within her. My beast remains dangerously close to the surface despite our multiple joinings, instinct refusing to let me fully relax while my mate is in heat.

"The marking... it triggered this?" Her voice comes soft, vulnerable in a way few ever witness.

"For true mates, it often does." My fingers trace possessive patterns across her skin, unable to stop touching her even in these moments of clarity. "The ancient bond becoming physically manifested... it can trigger biological responses."

"I've never..." Color rises in her cheeks, endearing despite what we've shared over the past hours. "This is my first..."

Something primal and satisfied rumbles through my chest at her admission. My beast preens at being the only one to ever experience her like this, to claim her during her first heat.

"I know, sweetling. Your first heat."

Pride surges through me, though I try to temper it through our bond. But beneath that pride swims deeper significance I hesitate to voice – what her first heat combined with our marking likely means.

"What?" she presses, sensing my unspoken thoughts.

My hand drifts without conscious permission to rest against her abdomen, the possibility almost too overwhelming to articulate. "First heats after marking..." I swallow, emotions threatening to overwhelm me. "They often result in conception. Especially for true mates."

Her breath catches, eyes widening with understanding. Through our bond, I sense her working through the implications, the possibility of carrying my child.

"Would that..." she begins hesitantly, sudden vulnerability radiating through our connection. "Would that please you?"

Joy erupts through me with such force I can barely contain it. The thought of her swollen with my child, of creating life together – it speaks to something deeper than crown or kingdom, something primal and essential.

"More than anything," I manage, lips brushing hers. "But only if you—"

"Yes." Her certainty flows through our bond, matching my own desire. "Yes, Alaric."

Before I can respond, her scent shifts subtly, signaling another wave of heat approaching. My beast surges forward instantly, responding to biological imperatives impossible to ignore. Her body arches toward mine instinctively, her need evident in dilated pupils and quickened breath.

"Again," she gasps, her hands clutching at my shoulders. "Please."

A growl rumbles from my chest as I position myself above her once more. This time, I allow my partial shift to progress further – claws lengthening, canines sharpening, my beast wanting her to feel exactly who claims her. Through our bond, I sense not fear but excitement at this display of my primal nature.

"Mine," I growl against the mark on her neck, the word barely human.

Her response comes immediate and perfect – throat bared further, body yielding beneath mine. "Yours."

The submission from such a powerful mate drives my beast wild. I claim her mouth in a kiss that holds nothing of gentleness, my hands gripping her hips with enough force to mark. Through our bond, I ensure she feels only pleasure in my roughness, my beast attuned to her responses with preternatural sensitivity.

When I finally thrust into her, it's with a single powerful movement that makes her cry out. Her heat makes her impossibly responsive, her body perfectly prepared for mine, so hot it almost scalds, but so wet, so tight, it’s euphoric. Through our bond, I feel every sensation echoed between us – her pleasure becoming mine, my possession becoming her surrender.

“Alaric!” She gasps as I lick my way up her inner thighs, her fingers threading through my hair and pulling hard. But whether to hold me in place or push me away, I can’t tell and I’m not sure she can either.

I lap at her folds like a starving man, the taste of our combined release making my beast howl in victory. She squirms and writhes beneath me, rambling incoherently as I work her to a frenzy. But when my tongue sweeps over her sensitive clit, swollen and peeking out from its hood, she keens.

“Alpha, please! Too much!” She pleads as I start to clean her up all over again. “Need to rest.”

I look up to see her eyelids drooping, exhaustion taking over, and decide to take pity on her, much to my lycan’s chagrin. Climbing back up her body, I gather her against me, arranging her smaller form to fit perfectly against mine.

“Sleep, sweetling. I’ve got you.” I purr.

Outside our sealed chambers, faint scratching and occasional growls indicate some wolves remain affected by her pheromones. She jolts awake at the sounds and my beast snarls silently in response, territorial instinct heightened during her heat.

"They can't get in," I assure her, noting her glance toward the door. "These chambers were designed for this purpose generations ago. The protections will hold."

The knowledge doesn't fully satisfy my beast, which would prefer to physically drive away any wolf who dares approach what's mine. The primal part of me understands there's more at stake now – not just my mate but the potential life we may have created.

Sage drifts back to sleep, my reassurance allowing her to rest peacefully. Phantom preens at our mate’s unwavering faith in our ability to keep her safe. Then the furry beast recedes, finally willing to rest for the long days ahead.

And I remain awake during the night, keeping watch and marveling at the miracle in my arms.