Page 269 of Immune

“I know. Let it.”

Her Omega clamp grips me tight then, pulsing and pulling. My knot catches at the same time, swelling fully inside her and sealing us together. She cries out, not scared or lost, just overwhelmed by pleasure and fury and relief.

I hold still even though every instinct is begging me to bite her. Every instinct can bloody well wait.

Her forehead presses against mine then. She’s trembling everywhere, but her voice is steady when she whispers, “Ask.”

My heart stops before it starts beating all wrong, because I know what she’s saying to me. I know what that single word means.

So I do. I ask.

“You want my bite?”

Her eyes open, clear and wild and certain. “Yes.”

“You want the bond?”

“Yes.”

“Dakota.”

Her hands frame my face in the next breath. “Ewan. Bite me.”

Fuck me, but I do. I press my mouth to the side of her neck, right over the gland, and bite down. The bond snaps into place like light breaking through storm clouds, not quiet or gentle. It’s bright, loud, and alive.

Dakota’s pleasure crashes through me with my name printed inside it. Her fear, too. Her rage. Her pain-in-the-ass, stubborn bravery. Wild honey and rain flood my senses until I can’t tell where her scent ends and mine starts.

She sees me, too. I feel it happen. Her shock. Her wonder. Her sudden, furious tenderness when she realizes how scared I am of hurting her and wanting her and losing her all at once.

“Oh,” she breathes.

It’s such a small sound, and it completely destroys me.

My own release hits, dragged out by the lock, the knot, and the bond flaring to life between us. I hold her through it, mouth gentle on the bite now, licking the mark until she shivers and clutches me harder.

For a while, neither of us moves. Not that we can, because my knot keeps us joined. And when her lock easesslowly, she tightens again when soft aftershocks rock her body, making her hide her face in my shoulder. “That’s just rude.”

A laugh breaks free from my chest, and she stiffens. Then, against my skin, she laughs too.

It’s small at first, then it’s helpless. Breathless. Alive. The sound moves through the new bond, as bright as the afternoon sun. I feel it. She feels me feeling it, and her laughter fades into stunned silence.

“That was weird,” she breathes.

“Bond?”

“Feeling you get all internally smug.”

“I’m not smug,” I counter, even though I might be a little.

“I’d argue you were emotionally smug.”

“That’s not even a thing. You made that up.”

“Did not,” she mutters, and I can’t help the smile that splits my face as I lie down and bring her with me, my hand rubbing up and down her back while the music continues to play somewhere next to us now. I don’t even know when she lost the headphones, not that it matters.

Eventually, after a stretch of silence, I ask, “How’s your head?”

She pauses and actually checks. “Quiet.”