BloodMoon: Captivated by the Forbidden Lycan Alpha
Chapter 225: HEAT RISING

Chapter 225: HEAT RISING

{"Out of Darkness Cometh Light"}

WAVE’S POV

I knew it when the scent hit me, mine, not someone else’s. Sharp. Sweet. Tinged with the undeniable musk of vulnerability. The enforcer’s office was sterile. Controlled. My space. I had built a reputation here, one forged in discipline and order. I did not make any mistakes. It started low, just a simmer in my spine, a creeping tightness in my belly. Then it slammed into me like wildfire under my skin. My breath hitched. My hands shook. My legs? Useless. I pushed off my desk like a drunk man, barely nodding at someone who called my name.

"Wave? You good?" No, I was not good. I was an omega enforcer about to break down in front of half the damn pack.

"I got to go," I mumbled, forcing my way out the door, sunglasses half-slipping off my nose as I staggered into the burning afternoon sun. My bones felt like they did not fit right anymore, like my body was shifting too fast for my mind to keep up.

By the time I reached my street, I was drenched in sweat, my throat dry, my jeans sticking to places I did not want to think about. I did not go through the front door. Spark was inside and I veered around the back of the house, barely making it past the hydrangeas before my legs buckled. I collapsed to my knees under the old shade tree, panting, pressing my face into the cool grass. Hidden, like a goddamn coward.

"Stupid," I whispered. "So stupid."

My wolf was whining in my head, restless and aching. Heat clawed at my spine, coiling low in my gut, demanding. It was not just hormonal. It was primal. And it scared the hell out of me.

"I can’t let him see me like this," I muttered, burying my fingers in the dirt. "Not Spark. Not now."

I heard the back door creak open, and I cursed "Shit."

"Wave?" Spark’s voice cut through the thick summer air, and I winced. His tone was different. Light. Surprised. Happy.

I pressed closer to the dirt, ashamed of the way my body ached for him.

"Don’t come over here," I said quickly. "It is bad. Just... go back inside." I felt him before I saw him, his warmth, his electric presence. My wolf perked up, tail wagging inside my chest even as I tried to keep still. Betrayer.

"Wave," he said again, this time closer, softer. "You’re in heat."

"Yeah," I muttered, not looking at him. "I bet you’re thrilled."

He laughed gently. "I am."

I flinched. "What the fuck is wrong with you? I never asked for this. "

"I know you didn’t," he said, kneeling just a few feet away. "But your body’s calling to mine. You think I am going to apologize for loving that?"

"I think you should leave," I whispered. "Before I embarrass myself any more than I already have."

He was quiet for a beat. Then, carefully: "You are not embarrassing. You are beautiful. Do you know what it does to me, seeing you like this? Knowing your body trusts mine enough to let go?"

I curled tighter. "That is not trust. It’s lust and heat. "

"It’s both," Spark said simply. "And it is okay if you are not ready for me to touch you. I will not. But I am going to stay."

My voice cracked. "Why?"

"Because I love you. And because no part of you, Omega, enforcer, heat-ridden or not, is shameful to me. You are mine. And I am proud of you, even now."

I lifted my head, just a little, and met his eyes. His pupils were wide, his body tense but not in hunger. In restraint. "I smell like desperation," I muttered.

"You smell like home," he said.

And when I choked out a breath, unsure whether it was a laugh or a sob, he just leaned back against the tree, a respectful distance away.

"Whenever you’re ready," he said quietly. "I will be here. As long as it takes."

Nightfall did not bring relief, and even more sore, the darkness made it worse.

I was still under the tree, my skin fever-hot, my breaths shallow. My wolf paced just beneath the surface, whining, restless, and aching. I had managed to strip out of my jacket and overshirt, left in nothing but a drenched tank top and sweat-slick jeans that felt like sandpaper against my thighs.

And through it all... Spark had not moved far. He just sat there, barely in my peripheral vision, watching, waiting, making sure I was not alone. An hour later, a soft rustle stirred the grass, and I turned my head, teeth clenched. He approached slowly, holding something in his hands, his hoodie, and a bowl of cool water with a damp cloth. My throat tightened.

"Spark—"

"I’m not touching you," he said gently, kneeling beside me again. "I promise. Just let me help you get through it."

He did not wait for my pride to answer. Just dipped the cloth and wrung it out, then leaned in slowly, giving me time to pull away. I did not. I could not. The moment the cool fabric pressed against the back of my neck, I let out a sound I did not recognize, half-growl, half-whimper.

"Too much?" he asked.

"No," I breathed. "Not enough."

He smiled softly and heartbreakingly proud and began wiping the sweat from my temples, the side of my throat, and my arms. Not like I was broken. Not like I was dirty. Like I was precious.

My voice was hoarse. "You’re too calm for this."

"I’ve been waiting for this day," he admitted, chuckling low. "I mean—not like this exactly. I imagined... less backyard and more bed. But still."

"Spark."

"Wave." I closed my eyes. "I don’t know how to let you see me like this."

"I already do," he said, pressing the cloth to my chest over my heart. "I see you. And I love you. Heat or no heat."

I wanted to believe him, and he handed me the hoodie wordlessly, and I pulled it on with shaking hands, burying myself in his scent. Pine and ozone. Warm, masculine, grounding. My body calmed a little just enough to breathe.

"I don’t want to take the bond like this," I murmured.

"I know."

"And if I ask you to touch me, you have to say no."

He smiled softly. "Then I will say no. Even if it kills me."

I huffed. "It is killing me."

"I know, baby," he whispered, and finally reached out to take my hand.

Just my hand and his thumb ran slowly, grinding circles across my knuckles.

"I’ll stay all night," he said. "And the next. However long you need. You do not have to fight it alone."

I woke to birdsong and the faint scent of dew on grass—and him.

Spark.

His hoodie still clung to my body, stretched out from how I had curled into it during the night. The air was cooler now, but I was still fever-warm under the skin. Still slick, still tender, still full of a hunger that pulsed quietly beneath my ribs.

But the edge had dulled. No longer firestorms, just embers.

I blinked groggily and shifted against the roots of the tree. My body ached, not just from the heat but from how tightly I had curled in on myself, as if I took up less space, I would somehow feel less exposed.

"Morning," Spark said softly.

I flinched. He was sitting just a few feet away again, legs stretched out in the grass, arms resting across his knees like he had never moved all night. Had he slept at all?

"You’re still here," I murmured.

He gave me a lopsided grin. "You expected I’d leave?"

"I hoped you would," I admitted. "But I’m glad you didn’t."

That smile softened, the corners of his eyes creasing just so. "Your scent’s a little calmer."

I nodded. "Still there, though."

"I know. But you are talking again. That is progress."

I managed a breathy laugh weak, but real. "I’m still disgusting."

"Not even a little."

"You’re lying."

"I’d swear on the moon," he said, deadly serious. "You’ve never looked more like mine than you do right now."

Gods. My stomach twisted knot from pain this time, but from something deeper. Something softer.

I sat up slowly, arms shaky, hoodie falling loosely around my thighs. He did not reach for me. Did not lean closer. Just watched, quiet and reverent, like I was something sacred.

"Why didn’t you come closer?" I asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugged. "Because you didn’t ask."

I stared at him. "But you wanted to."

"More than anything."

"So why didn’t you just take it?"

He looked down at his hands, then back at me. "Because love does not force its way in, Wave. It waits at the door until you are ready to open it."

My throat clenched. I hated how easily he could cut through all my defences with just a few words.

"I think," I said slowly, "that I’ve spent so long being afraid of what I’d become if I let anyone see the Omega in me, that I forgot how to want."

His gaze sharpened, but he did not speak.

I swallowed. "I still do not know if I am ready. But I do not want you to go. Not today."

"I’m not going anywhere."

A silence settled between us, soft but charged.

"I smell like heat," I said.

"You smell like mine," he replied gently.

Instead, I leaned toward him just enough that our knees brushed and let my head fall onto his shoulder. My body trembled, not from fever now, but release. But his hand came up and cradled the back of my neck, warm and sure.