Chapter 50
Ciel
Jack holds me, we don't move. Firstly—I needed that release.
His hands softly pat my back. Gentle, steady. Almost absentminded. Like he's reminding me with every tap that he's here, that he's not going anywhere.
I think this was the first… time since well, ever… that I initiated something and actually wanted it. Not out of expectation. Not out of obligation. Not because someone wanted to take, and I was too tired to fight it. But because I wanted it.
And suddenly it makes sense, what Jack said that day in the car—about the difference between wanting to and feeling like I had to.
Jack's tiny taps on my back are everything right now. Comforting. Anchoring.
Something I've never told a soul: I hated being an omega. I hated how often my body betrayed me. How easily it was stolen from me—my will, my choices. How a single whiff of an alpha's pheromones could make my pulse race, my skin burn, even when I didn't want it. Especially when I didn't want it.
