Chapter 4

Kael

"Omega."

The word stuck to the roof of my mouth like something half-dead. It felt wrong to say out loud — like spitting up a secret I'd kept buried so deep I thought maybe it would rot there quiet.

But her mouth was at my ear — her breath warm enough to make my ribs hurt when I breathed it in. Good boy, she'd said. Like I'd done something clever instead of something that could ruin me if the wrong ears caught the shape of it.

She didn't move away. She didn't flinch. She only breathed me in — slow, hungry — like she'd waited too long for this and now she'd unwrap every lie I'd ever wrapped myself in.

I turned my face into the silk pillow under me, but she caught my chin again — the tips of her fingers pressed just hard enough to remind me who I belonged to in this room.

"Omega," she murmured, soft like a purr curling under my ribs. "My sweet, impossible cat."

My whole body went hot under her palm — shame and heat tangled until I couldn't tell which was which. I felt it rolling off me now — my scent, too big for the charm that used to hide it, spilling into her sheets like I wanted her to drown in it.

She smelled it too. Gods, she tasted it. I could feel it in the way her thumb brushed my lower lip — slow, coaxing, like she could scoop my heat right out through my teeth if she wanted.

"I didn't—" The words caught, half-choked when her nail dragged over my throat — gentle, teasing. "I needed— I just needed the money, I didn't—"

She hushed me with a soft sound — not cruel, but not kind either. Her mouth brushed my cheek, warm enough that my hips twitched up, traitorous. I felt the silk sheets slip under my back when I moved — too warm, too soft for a boy who'd spent every night on a threadbare cot beside my mother's bed.

Her fingers drifted lower, tracing the heat blooming under my skin. She was slow about it — careful in a way that made it worse, because careful meant she had time to savor every piece of me I'd tried so hard to bury.

"You were going to lie to me," she said. Her voice wasn't angry. It was amused — dark silk unspooling inside my skull. "You thought you could slip that pretty scent under my nose and I'd never taste it?"

I shook my head — small, desperate. "Please— I didn't want— If they know—"

"They won't know." Her nails brushed the edge of my waistband, soft enough to drag a sound out of my chest I tried to swallow down too late. "Do you know what they'd do, if they knew?"

Yes. Of course I knew. I'd heard the old stories — the way an omega was supposed to be folded up in heat dens, pack-claimed and knotted until there was nothing left but soft purrs and a belly full of pups I'd never live long enough to bear. Omegas weren't people in those stories. Just breeding holes dressed up in collars that bit deep enough to bruise.

My throat made a tiny, broken noise I hated — shame stuck behind my teeth. She felt it, tasted it, loved it. I could feel it in the way her breath slipped down my throat like warm wine I couldn't spit out.

"I'm not—" I rasped. "I'm not a— I can't—"

She laughed, quiet, soft, wicked enough to make my pulse skip like claws against glass. "Not just a cat after all." Her mouth brushed my jaw. "No wonder you taste sweeter than anything I've touched in decades."

Her palm pressed lower — heat and silk and the soft bite of her nails grazing the soft skin above my hip. I jerked under her hand, breath stuttering. She didn't restrain me — she didn't need to. She just let her mouth drift down, her breath skating my collarbone like a question she already knew the answer to.

"You don't want me to stop," she said — not asking. Stating. Truth pulled out of my throat before I could claw it back.

I turned my face away — cheeks burning, tail twitching useless where it curled along my thigh. I hated how soft the sound was when it slipped out of me anyway. "No."

Her fingers stilled. Just for a breath. Then she laughed — low and delighted, a sound that made the hush of the suite feel like claws sinking into silk.

"Good boy," she purred against my throat. "Then be very good for me now."

And when her mouth pressed lower, warm against the fragile edge of the heat I couldn't hide anymore, I knew I'd given her every secret she'd ever want — and I'd beg her to take more before the night was through.

Her mouth was warm on my throat, her breath sinking under my skin like silk that clung where I didn't want it to. Every inch of me felt too hot — too open — the lie I'd worn like armor all these years peeling off with every soft drag of her tongue.

I felt her smile against my skin when I flinched at the heat rolling through my belly, a coil too tight to swallow back. I hated how easy it was — how my hips shifted without my permission, desperate for something I couldn't admit out loud.

Then her fingers slipped lower — tracing the line of my waistband, teasing where the soft fabric clung too tight over my hips. I tensed — tail flicking under the silk sheets, useless, a traitor that betrayed exactly how much I didn't want her to stop.

She laughed. A sound that curled through my spine and made my throat close around a noise that tried to claw out of me.

"Pretty cat," she murmured, her nails dragging the band of my pants just enough to slip the tips under. The warmth of her hand skimmed bare skin — so slow it made my eyes squeeze shut. "Let me see what you've been hiding from everyone else."

I should have said no. Should have twisted away. But I didn't. I just breathed — shallow, broken — as she worked the fabric down over my hips, careful, slow, deliberate. The feel of silk on silk made my skin prickle like claws.

My cock twitched free — flushed, hard, already wet at the tip in a way I hated. Pre cum smeared warm against my stomach where she brushed her palm, thumb dragging through it like she owned the mess.

A tiny, choked sound slipped out of me — shame and heat tangled up until my tail twitched harder, trying to curl over my thigh to hide it. She caught it — pressed it back with her knee against mine, not rough but unyielding. No hiding.

Her fingers ghosted down, wrapping careful around the base of my cock — light enough to make my hips jerk up before I could stop it. I could feel the slick pulse out, traitorous, soft warmth dripping slow over her knuckles.

She hummed — pleased, wicked. Her thumb smeared the mess down the length of me, teasing the tip until my breath hitched too sharp in my throat.

"Does it always drip this pretty for nothing at all?" she murmured, mouth against my jaw like a promise I couldn't outrun.

I tried to shake my head — a tiny, desperate denial that made her laugh again, softer this time.

"No?" She pressed her thumb under the head of my cock, just enough to make my spine arch into her hand. I bit down on a whimper, my thighs trembling under hers.

Her lips brushed the shell of my ear — soft, warm, ruinous. "Has anyone else ever touched you like this, Kael?"

The question stuck in my throat. The shame burned so hot behind my eyes I thought I'd choke on it. I tried to look away — her fingers tightened just enough to keep my hips pinned, her other hand stroking my cheek back toward hers.

"Look at me," she breathed. "Tell me the truth."

I met her eyes — dark, endless, hungry in a way that made my pulse crash through my ribs. "No," I rasped. The word broke, shame tangled around the edges of it. "No, Mistress. No one."

She smiled — slow, wicked, soft as silk and twice as sharp. Her thumb dragged down the length of me, smearing more slick across her palm as she squeezed just enough to make my hips jerk again.

"Good boy," she purred. "All this sweetness — all this pretty heat — and no one's ever tasted it but me."

Her hand stroked me slow — careful, teasing, her grip just tight enough to make the ache coil low in my belly, heat flooding every soft piece of me I'd tried so hard to keep buried. Slick dripped warm over her wrist, my thighs trembling as she coaxed every drop out of me like a promise I'd never meant to give.

"You'll let me have it all, won't you?" she whispered, mouth brushing the corner of mine — so close I could taste her breath when I tried to swallow a sound that cracked in my throat.

I nodded — small, helpless. The only word I could find tangled on my tongue: Yes.

Her smile sharpened against my mouth. Her palm slid slow, dragging another slick shudder out of me — the heat blooming soft and wild under her hand.

And I knew — even if I ran now, even if I lied again tomorrow — she'd already taken every piece of me worth hiding. And I'd beg her to do it again.

Her hand never stopped moving — slow strokes that made my hips twitch helpless under hers, slick smearing hot over her palm every time her grip squeezed just enough to make my breath break in my chest.

I hated how good it felt. Hated how easy it was for her to find the soft places no one else had ever even seen.

Her mouth brushed my ear, breath sweet and dark at the same time. Good boy, she kept saying — soft praise that slid under my ribs and coiled in my spine like claws. I swallowed a sound that still slipped out anyway, half-whimper, half-beg.

Then her hand drifted lower — warm, fingers tracing behind my balls, soft enough to feel every twitch, every tiny betrayal that made my thighs shake under her.

"Easy," she murmured, so close her lips grazed my throat when I tried to hide my face in the pillow. "Don't run now, pretty cat. Let me see what you're hiding back here too."

Her fingers brushed lower — slick from my cock, warm where she spread it down, slow, careful, deliberate. I felt it before I could think about what it meant — the soft press of her fingertips sliding over my hole, the wet drag of my own slick that shouldn't have been there at all.

My breath caught — ribs locking up, heat pooling in my belly so deep I thought I might choke on it. I couldn't hold back the sound this time — a low, broken moan that made my thighs press together on instinct. She pressed her knee between them, parting me again like she owned every inch of my shame.

"Look at you," she purred, voice dripping silk into the heat blooming under my skin. Her finger traced slow circles, gathering the slick that kept spilling out no matter how hard I clenched. "You're already dripping for me, Kael. Did you think you could hide this too?"

I shook my head — helpless, shame burning behind my eyes. "Please— I didn't— I can't—"

She hushed me with her mouth, lips brushing the corner of mine, her other hand still stroking my cock just enough to keep my hips jerking against her palm.

"Don't beg yet," she whispered. "Not when you're this sweet for me."

Her fingertip pressed — gentle, testing — right at my hole. The slick made it easy, too easy, and my whole spine arched off the sheets when she pushed just a little deeper. My mouth fell open — a soft, desperate noise I didn't even know I could make breaking out before I could swallow it down.

"Sensitive?" she teased, voice so warm it hurt. Her thumb rubbed the head of my cock again, slick dripping down her wrist. "No one's ever touched you here either, have they?"

I tried to answer — the word stuck in my throat, broken by the way my hips rocked helpless under her hand. My heat throbbed wild through my belly, so sweet it hurt. I forced the word out, small, breathless: "No— Mistress— please—"

Her laugh curled against my throat — soft, delighted, wicked enough to make my hole clench around her fingertip before she even pushed deeper.

"Good boy," she breathed. "Then let me have this too."

And she pressed her finger in — slow, careful, until the stretch made my breath crack and my eyes squeeze shut. My body shivered under her — hips twitching, cock throbbing in her slick palm. I couldn't hold the noise in — a moan, sharp and raw, slipping out before I could bite it back.

"Sshh," she whispered, mouth warm on my jaw. "Be good for me, Kael. Cum for me like this."

Her finger curled — gentle, but the stretch sent sparks through my spine that I couldn't swallow down. Her hand stroked me faster, slick drenching her palm, heat coiling so tight in my gut I couldn't breathe around it.

And when she brushed that spot deep inside, her thumb pressing just right under my cock's head — everything broke open at once.

The pleasure hit too fast — blinding, white-hot, shame tangled with heat that made my back arch and my tail flick helpless against the sheets. My mouth fell open on a sob I couldn't catch. I felt it flood out of me — heat, slick, every secret I'd tried so hard to hold inside.

I came in her hand — hard, helpless — vision sparking white behind my eyelids, the noise in my throat broken and soft. Her finger stayed deep, pressing every twitch out of me until my muscles went slack, too warm, too raw.

Somewhere under the rush I felt her mouth at my ear again — a soft, wicked purr I couldn't hold onto because the dark pulled at the edge of my mind too fast to fight.

Good boy.

And then the hush swallowed everything — heat, shame, the fear, the softness — until all that was left was her hand holding me open as I slipped under.