Knots of the Hybrid Queen: Claimed by Four Alphas

Chapter 28: Rain

Riven found me on the roof.

I don’t know how he knew I’d be there—maybe the bond, maybe he just knew me well enough by now to predict where I’d go when I needed to fall apart in private—but he appeared through the access door without a sound and sat beside me without asking permission.

We didn’t talk for a while. Just sat there with our legs dangling over the edge while the moon hung fat and silver overhead and my brain kept replaying six different death scenes on loop.

"You can’t save everyone." His voice was quiet when he spoke. "I know you want to. I know you think you should. But you can’t."

"I know that." The words came out rough. "Knowing doesn’t help."

"No." He shifted closer and his shoulder pressed against mine, warm and solid. "But maybe talking about it would."

"What’s there to talk about?" I wrapped my arms around my knees. "I failed. People died. The demon’s still out there planning round two."

"You drove back a demon that’s killed hundreds of wolves over the decades it’s been active." His hand found mine. "You combined power through four bonds on your first try. You protected the pack well enough that only six died when it could have been sixty."

"Only six." My laugh came out broken. "Listen to us. Only six people like that’s an acceptable loss."

"It’s not acceptable." His grip tightened. "But it’s survivable. The pack survives. You survive. We rebuild and prepare and keep fighting."

"And what happens when I’m not strong enough next time?" The question I’d been avoiding. "What happens when the demon figures out how to counter whatever I throw at it and I watch more people die because I wasn’t—"

"Stop." He turned to face me, hands cupping my jaw. "You’re spiraling into worst-case scenarios that haven’t happened yet."

"They could happen."

"Anything could happen." His thumbs traced my cheekbones. "You could also get stronger. The demon could make a mistake. We could find a way to kill it permanently. Catastrophizing doesn’t prepare you for anything except more anxiety."

He was right and I hated it.

The tears came before I could stop them, hot and humiliating, and I tried to turn away but his hands held me steady.

"Hey." Soft and patient. "Let me see you."

"I don’t want you to see me like this." My voice cracked. "I don’t want you to see me weak and breaking and—"

"You think crying makes you weak?" His mouth curved. "You just fought a demon. You’re allowed to have feelings about it."

"I’m supposed to be the Hybrid Queen." The title tasted bitter. "Queens don’t fall apart on rooftops."

"Queens are human." His forehead pressed to mine. "Or hybrid, in your case. You’re allowed to be scared. You’re allowed to grieve. You’re allowed to need comfort."

The gentleness of it broke me.

I turned into him and pressed my face against his neck while sobs tore out of me that I’d been holding back for hours, and his arms came around me solid and sure while I shook apart.

Through the bond I felt his steady patience wrapping around my panic, felt him deliberately projecting calm the way he’d project strength in a fight, and the fact that he was trying to ground me just made me cry harder.

"I’ve got you." His hand stroked through my hair. "I’m not going anywhere."

I don’t know how long we sat there. Long enough for the sobs to quiet into hiccups, for my breathing to even out, for my hands to stop shaking where they’d fisted in his shirt.

When I pulled back his shirt was soaked and my face was a mess and I probably looked like hell.

He looked at me like I was the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

"Better?" His thumbs wiped at the tears still tracking down my face.

"No." Honest and raw. "But I’m here anyway."

"Good enough." He kissed my forehead. "You don’t have to be better. You just have to keep breathing."

The kiss shifted. His mouth found my temple, my cheekbone, the corner of my jaw, and each one was gentle and careful like I might break if he pushed too hard.

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But right now I didn’t want gentle. Didn’t want careful.

I wanted to feel alive after spending three hours thinking about death.

My mouth found his and the kiss was desperate and needy and honest in ways I couldn’t articulate, and he made a sound low in his throat that vibrated through both of us.

"Selene—" He pulled back just enough to look at me. "You don’t have to—"

"I want to." My hands fisted in his collar. "I need to feel something other than grief and guilt and terror. Please."

His control fractured.

One second we were kissing and the next his hands were in my hair and his mouth was on mine with the kind of intensity that rewired my nervous system, and I was climbing into his lap before my brain caught up with what my body was doing.

"Here?" His voice had gone rough. "On the roof?"

"I don’t care." And I didn’t. Didn’t care that we were exposed, that anyone could come up here, that this was reckless and stupid and exactly what I needed. "I just need you."

That snapped whatever leash he’d been holding.

His hands found the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head in one smooth motion, and then his mouth was on my neck—not biting, not claiming, just kissing and sucking marks that would fade by morning—and my head fell back to give him better access.

"God, you’re—" He couldn’t finish the sentence. Just made another sound that was half-groan, half-growl while his hands mapped my ribs, my waist, the curve of my hips.

I reached for the bond between us and opened it all the way, no walls, no filters, just flooding him with exactly how much I needed this, needed him, needed to feel claimed and wanted and alive.

Through the connection his desire crashed into me so hard my vision whited out.

"The others—" His mouth found mine again. "They can feel this. Through the bonds."

"Good." I didn’t care. Wanted them to feel it, wanted them to know I was choosing this, choosing him, choosing life over death and pleasure over grief. "Let them."

His hands found my hips and lifted me just enough to settle me exactly where I needed him, and the friction made me gasp against his mouth.

"Tell me if it’s too much." His forehead pressed to mine. "Tell me if you need me to stop."

"Don’t stop." I rolled my hips and watched his pupils blow wide. "Please don’t stop."

He didn’t.

His hands were everywhere and his mouth followed, mapping every inch of skin he could reach while I moved against him and chased sensation that had nothing to do with shadow manipulation or blood control and everything to do with being human and alive and here.

"I need—" I couldn’t finish. Just tugged at his belt with shaking hands until he understood and helped me, and then there was nothing between us except intent and need and the kind of desperate wanting that came from almost dying.

When he pushed into me I shattered immediately, coming apart on a broken sound while he held me through it.

"That’s it." His voice was wrecked. "Let go. I’ve got you."

And he did. Through every wave of pleasure that crashed through me, through the moment when it became too much and tears pricked my eyes again, through the aftermath when I collapsed against his chest and tried to remember how to breathe.

His arms came around me and held me while his heart hammered against mine, and through the bond I felt his satisfaction mixing with fierce protectiveness mixing with the kind of love that didn’t need words.

"I love you." I whispered it against his neck.

"I know." His hand stroked through my hair. "I can feel it through the bond."

"Good." I pressed closer. "Because I’m not saying it again."

His chest rumbled with silent laughter. "Liar."

He was right. But I didn’t have to admit it.

We sat there while my breathing evened out and the night air cooled my overheated skin, and for the first time since the battle ended the weight in my chest felt manageable.

Six people were still dead.

The demon was still out there.

But I was alive and loved and not facing it alone.

That had to count for something.