His Omega, His Ruin

Sleeping with the Wolf

The storm outside had worsened.

Wind howled around the stone corners of the estate like something wounded, and every rumble of thunder dragged me back to the clearing. Back to Caleb's back. Back to the sound of a bond snapping clean in half.

The master bedroom was warm—the fire banked to glowing coals—but the sheer size of the bed made me feel small and exposed. It was a bed built for a king, wide enough for four people, piled with furs that probably cost more than my entire life's earnings. I lay in the center of it, curled into a tight ball, clutching a pillow to my chest.

I had left the lamp on. I was afraid of the dark. Afraid that if I closed my eyes, I'd wake up back in the mud.

The silence of the house pressed down on me. I was safe—I knew that logically—but my body hadn't caught up. My pulse was a frantic, rabbit-beat in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to force sleep.

The door handle turned.

I bolted upright, gasping, pulling the duvet to my chin.

Magnus stood in the doorway. He had shed his boots and the henley, wearing only loose sleep pants that hung low on his hips. In the dim light, the scars on his torso looked like a map of violent history—ridges of silver skin crossing his broad chest and abdomen. He didn't look at me with hunger. He looked at me with concern, scanning the room as if searching for a threat he could tear apart.

"You are not sleeping," he said. Not a question.

"I can't," I admitted. "I keep thinking he's going to come back. That this is a mistake. That I'm going to wake up and none of this will be real."

Magnus stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He didn't come to the bed. He walked to the large velvet armchair by the window and dragged it effortlessly across the rug until it sat directly between me and the door. Then he sat down, stretched out his long legs, and crossed his arms over his chest.

He looked like a sentinel. A statue carved from pure, immovable intent.

"Sleep, Mira," he said, his gaze fixed on the entrance. "I will keep watch. Nothing gets through that door unless it goes through me first. And nothing goes through me."

I watched him for a long time. The sight of him there—so large, so certain—did something to the knot of fear in my stomach. He wasn't trying to claim me. He wasn't positioning himself for anything. He was just there, guarding the door because I needed him to.

But as the minutes stretched, the distance between us felt wrong. The bed was too wide. The chair looked too cold. And the new golden tether between us tugged at my chest with a gentle, persistent pull, urging me to close the gap.

"Magnus?" I whispered into the dark.

He turned his head immediately, eyes locking onto mine. "What is it? Are you in pain?"

"No." I held the duvet tighter. "I'm lonely. The bed is too big."

He went very still.

For a long moment, I was sure he would refuse. That the Alpha King wouldn't lower himself to comfort a broken Omega who couldn't even sleep in peace. But then he stood up. He crossed to the side of the bed. The mattress dipped significantly when he sat on the edge.

He didn't get under the covers.

He lay down on top of the duvet, parallel to me, keeping a few careful inches between us. "Is this better?" he asked into the darkness.

"Yes," I breathed.

I shifted toward him, closing the distance until my back was pressed against the barrier of fabric between us. Even through the duvet, I could feel the solid wall of his heat. It radiated from him like a second fire, steady and sure, chasing the last of the cold from my bones.

I could hear his breathing slow down—matching mine, pulling me gently toward unconsciousness.

"Magnus?"

"Hmm."

"Thank you."

He didn't answer with words. Instead, his heavy hand came to rest on my hip through the blanket—grounding me, holding me in place, anchoring me to the bed and the night and the fact that I was still here.

"Sleep, little wolf," he rasped. His voice was rough and quiet and careful. "I have you."

And I believed him. That was the most surprising thing of all. I closed my eyes, and for the first time in three years, I fell asleep without listening for footsteps.