To ruin an Omega

Chapter 470: Haven 1

FIA

The car turned onto a winding drive through tall pines. Moonhaven appeared, a low, elegant building of dark wood and floor-to-ceiling windows glowing in the afternoon light. Small cabins dotted the hills, nestled as if they belonged to the land.

Cian’s hand found mine across the center console. "This is it."

I squeezed his fingers, feeling the bond hum between us—content and anticipatory. The drive had been quiet in the best way. It was just the two of us, the road, and the certainty that everything else was left behind for a while.

He parked near the main entrance. A woman in dark slacks and a crisp white shirt waited by the door. She smiled as we approached, the kind of professional warmth that came from years of practice.

"Alpha Cian. Luna Fia. Welcome to Moonhaven." She gestured toward the building. "Your suite will be ready by evening, as requested. The security measures for the heat season are already in place. Until then, you’re welcome to explore the grounds and use any of our facilities."

"Thank you," Cian said.

She handed him two keycards. "These will give you access to the main building and your suite once it’s prepared. The restaurant is open until eleven, and room service is available twenty-four hours a day. If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to call the front desk."

We took the cards and headed inside. The lobby felt both luxurious and comfortable. Leather couches circled a massive stone fireplace. Sunlight streamed through the windows, warming everything.

"Want to walk around?" Cian’s voice carried something lighter than usual. Almost playful.

"Sure."

We left our bags with the concierge and walked outside. A stone path led into the woods, the sun filtering through the canopy, shifting with the breeze. Birds called from deeper in the trees, and the air smelled of pine, earth, and something sweet.

Other guests passed us occasionally. A couple walking hand in hand. Another couple laughed and chased each other down the path. Everyone looked relaxed in that way people only managed when they’d left their normal lives behind.

We found a small lake about fifteen minutes from the main building. The water lay dark under the trees, rippling only when fish surfaced. A wooden dock stretched out, and we sat at the end, legs dangling over the edge.

Cian’s arm settled around my shoulders, strong and protective. I melted into him, savoring the heat of his body, the steadiness of his breathing. My mind fluttered to other things, but his closeness drew me back. For this moment, I let them fall away and let myself rest, cocooned in his presence.

"This is nice," I said.

"Yeah." His lips brushed my temple. "It really is."

We stayed longer than we meant to. By the time I noticed the shift, the sun hadn’t dropped yet, but the light had softened, turning warmer and gentler, laying a quiet gold over the water. It shimmered around us, almost unreal, as if everything had slowed without asking permission.

My phone buzzed once in my gown pocket, sharp against the stillness, but I ignored it. Nothing that mattered existed outside this moment, my chest tight with a happiness that felt almost fragile.

Eventually, we headed back. The main building had lit up while we were gone, warm light spilling from every window. People moved inside, heading toward the restaurant or settling into the lounge with drinks that caught the firelight.

Cian checked his phone. "It’s almost evening."

My pulse kicked up a notch. We still had hours left but it was quickly approaching.

We collected our bags from the concierge and made our way to the suite. The hallway stretched quietly and was carpeted. Our footsteps made no sound as we walked to the last door on the left.

Cian slid the keycard through the reader. The lock clicked open.

The suite spread before us in a display that made my breath catch.

Red. Everything glowed red. Deep crimson walls warmed the room. Black silk sheets covered the bed. Candles were arranged everywhere, unlit but ready. Details made my face heat.

Restraints were built into the headboard. A collection of items arranged on the dresser that I recognized from books and whispered conversations. Mirrors positioned at angles that reflected the bed from every direction.

"Well." My voice came out higher than normal. "This is certainly something."

Cian laughed. The sound filled the space and eased some of the tension that had coiled in my chest.

"It’s a heat season resort," he said. "I think this is probably tame compared to others."

He set our bags down near the closet and faced me, eyes darkened, jaw tight. The bond snapped between us, thick with want, trembling with unspoken hunger and wild anticipation heavy enough to make my knees unsteady.

I crossed to where he stood and placed my hands on his chest. His heart beat hard under my palms.

"You know what?" I pushed him gently backward until his legs hit the bed. "I think it’s time someone else gave up control for once."

His eyebrows rose. "Is that right?"

"Sit."

He sat. The obedience was immediate, sending a thrill through me that I hadn’t expected. I moved to the restraints and examined them. Soft leather lined with silk. Strong enough to hold even with supernatural strength, but designed not to hurt.

Cian watched me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Hunger mixed with curiosity mixed with something that looked almost like pride.

"Lie back," I said.

He did. His body stretched across the black silk, all lean muscle and controlled power. I climbed onto the bed and straddled his hips. His hands came up to grip my waist, but I caught his wrists and pushed them up toward the headboard.

"Behave."

The word came out breathier than I intended, but it worked. He relaxed his arms and let me guide his wrists into the restraints. The leather closed with soft clicks that sounded loud in the quiet room.

I pulled the straps tight, heart hammering. Tested them. His hands flexed, knuckles pale, but the restraints held firm.

"Comfortable?" I asked.

"Very." His voice had dropped lower. Rougher. The kind of tone that made heat pool low in my stomach.

I ran my hands down his chest. Over the fabric of his shirt. Felt the way his breathing changed under my touch. The bond sang between us, amplifying everything until I could barely tell where my desire ended and his began.

My phone buzzed.

The sound grated, slicing through the moment, freezing my nerves. I ignored it and pressed my lips to his, desperate to reclaim the heat that just slipped through my fingers. His hunger nearly overwhelmed me, making the world tilt.

The phone buzzed again.

"Ignore it," Cian said against my lips.

I intended to. Then it started ringing properly. The sound filled the suite and refused to stop.

I pulled back with a frustrated sound and grabbed the phone from my pocket. I was so sure it would be Hazel’s name that lit up the screen, and I moved to decline it immediately.

But then I saw the actual caller ID.

Dad.

My finger hovered over the accept button.

"What’s wrong?" Cian’s voice came from the bed. He’d propped himself up as much as the restraints allowed, his expression shifting from desire to concern in seconds.

"It’s my father."

The ringing continued. Insistent. It carved into my nerves, demanding attention I wasn’t sure I wanted to give.

I looked at Cian. At this man I’d tied to a bed in a room designed for pleasure and intimacy. At the moment, we’d been building toward it since we left the pack territory.

"Give me a minute." I slid off the bed and moved toward the bathroom. "I need to take this."

His jaw tightened, but he nodded. The restraints clinked softly as he settled back against the pillows.

I answered the call and pressed the phone to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Fia." My father’s voice came through clear and steady. No preamble. No small talk. Just my name carrying weight I couldn’t identify. "We need to talk."

My free hand gripped the edge of the bathroom counter. The marble felt cool under my palm.

"About what?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. I could hear his slow, steady breathing. I pictured him standing still, one hand on his hip, already making up his mind about how this would play out.

"Your mother... stepmother," he corrected smoothly, like the slip meant nothing, like it hadn’t shaped my entire life. "She lost her mother."

I said nothing.

"I trust you understand what that means," he went on, his voice calm and almost patient, as if he was explaining something obvious to a child. "This isn’t the time for distance or whatever you want to call your behavior."

I let out a quiet scoff. "That was why you called me?"

There was a pause. Then he spoke again, softer this time, but his words were even sharper.

"Yes. Of course it is."

He paused again, this time longer and more deliberate.

"Even Hazel is here," he said, mentioning her name as if it should matter to me. As if that alone should be enough.