Chapter 26

The first thing I became aware of was the sound of my own breathing, a steady rhythm that matched the subtle rise and fall of Gideon’s chest beside me. The tent was a cocoon of warmth, the early evening sun casting a golden hue through the thin fabric, illuminating the space just enough to see the contours of Gideon’s face in repose. He looked peaceful, the tension that usually lined his forehead smoothed out in sleep, his full lips parted slightly.

My body was sated in a way it had never been before, the remnants of the rut’s fevered intensity still lingering in my veins like a potent drug. I turned my head, my gaze drifting down to where our bodies were entangled, a sheen of sweat and other, more intimate fluids glistening on Gideon’s skin. His ass was swollen, the evidence of my cum leaking from him, marking him as mine in a way that was primal and raw. The sight of it sent a fresh wave of possessiveness coursing through me, and I had to resist the urge to claim him all over again.

I had always known that Gideon was attractive—it was hard not to notice the way his body moved, the confidence that seemed to radiate from him. But this… this was different. This was the aftermath of something that had shifted the very foundation of our friendship, something that had cracked it open to reveal the fertile ground of something much deeper, much more intense.

As I lay there, my mind replayed the events of the night before. The way Gideon had looked at me with those hazel eyes, filled with a mixture of fear and desire when he realized I was in the throes of a rut. The way his voice had trembled when he agreed to let me claim him, the sound of it wrapped around my senses, fueling the fire that raged within me. The feel of his body yielding to mine, the way he had moved beneath me, with me, as if we were two halves of the same whole, finally reunited.

The sex had been explosive, a frenzy of teeth and tongues and hands that roamed and grabbed and held on for dear life. It was as if a dam had burst, unleashing a torrent of emotions that I had been keeping at bay for far too long. With each thrust, I felt myself falling deeper into the abyss of Gideon, losing myself in the scent and taste and feel of him. It was the best sex of my life, not just because of the physical pleasure, but because it was with him. Because it was Gideon.

And now, in the quiet aftermath, I found myself grappling with the realization that my feelings for Gideon extended far beyond the bounds of friendship. I liked him—really liked him. The thought both exhilarated and terrified me. How had I not seen it before? How had I managed to ignore the way my heart raced whenever he was near, the way my gaze invariably found its way back to him in a crowded room?

I propped myself up on one elbow, reaching out to trace the line of Gideon’s jaw with the tip of my finger. His stubble was rough against my skin, a stark contrast to the softness of his lips. I watched him for any sign of waking, my own body stirring at the memory of those lips wrapped around my cock, the suction so intense it had nearly brought me to my knees.

The air inside the tent was thick with the musk of our lovemaking, a potent mix of orange and clove intertwined with the earthy scent of freshly baked bread and nutmeg. It was a scent I had come to associate with comfort, with home, but now it was laced with something darker, something infinitely more addictive. It was the scent of Gideon claimed, marked by my shadow magic in a way that was as much a part of him as it was a part of me.

I leaned in, unable to resist the pull of him, and pressed a gentle kiss to the nape of his neck, right where his pulse fluttered beneath the surface of his skin. This… this was about more than just the physical act.

As I pulled back, Gideon stirred, a soft groan escaping his lips as he shifted onto his side, his eyelids fluttering open. For a moment, he looked disoriented, as if he was trying to piece together the events that had led us to this moment. Then his gaze met mine, and a slow, sleepy smile spread across his face, chasing away the last remnants of my uncertainty.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

“More like evening,” I corrected him, my own voice sounding foreign to my ears, laced with a vulnerability I wasn’t used to.

Gideon’s smile widened, and he reached out to brush a strand of hair away from my forehead. “Feels like morning to me. I’ve been asleep for a while, haven’t I?”

I nodded, my hand finding its way to his hip, fingers splayed possessively over his skin. “We both did.”

“We wore each other out,” Gideon amended, his eyes darkening with a mixture of desire and affection. “And I’d do it all over again if it meant waking up like this.”

His words wrapped around my heart, squeezing tightly. I had never been one for sentimentality, but with Gideon, everything felt different. Everything felt right.

“I like you, Gideon,” I found myself saying, the words spilling from my lips in a rush of honesty. “More than just a friend. More than anyone else.”

Gideon’s eyes widened slightly, and then he was laughing—a warm, rich sound that filled the tent and made my own lips twitch in response.

“Took you long enough to figure that out,” he teased, the laughter fading into something softer, something that mirrored the emotions swirling in my own chest.

“Yeah, well,” I grumbled, feeling my cheeks heat with a blush. “You’re not exactly easy to read, Carter.”

“Maybe not,” Gideon conceded, his fingers tracing the contours of my face, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “But I’m an open book now, Sinclair. Whatever you want to know, just ask.”

And just like that, the last piece of the puzzle clicked into place. This was Gideon—my best friend, my confidant, my partner in crime. And now, he was something more, something infinitely precious.

I lay there, my fingers still dancing over Gideon’s skin, the echoes of our shared passion reverberating through the stillness of the tent. “So what now?” I asked, my voice a low rumble that seemed to fill the space between us.

Gideon’s fingers found their way into my hair, his touch light and teasing as he played with the strands. “Now we hang out at the campsite until I can feel my legs again,” he said with a chuckle, his hazel eyes twinkling with mirth. “Then we can go home.”

A surge of primal pride swelled within my chest. I had fucked him that good, reduced him to a boneless, satisfied heap beside me. “Guess I did a number on you, huh?” I teased, unable to keep the smugness from my tone.

His laughter was a balm to my soul, a sound I could listen to for hours on end. But then, the mirth in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a contemplative silence that stretched between us, as tangible as the scent of our lovemaking that still hung in the air.

“What’s on your mind, G?” I asked, my fingers stilling on his hip.

He took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the tent’s walls. “Do you know that Xiomara Riley is an omega?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I jolted back, the absurdity of his statement hitting me like a punchline to a joke that wasn’t funny. “Xiomara? She’s a beta, Gideon. You’re pulling my leg, right?” I laughed, the sound bouncing off the tent’s walls, but it died in my throat when I saw the seriousness etched on his face.

“I’m serious, Xav,” he said, holding my gaze with an intensity that left no room for doubt. “I found her crying before summer break, and I’m telling you, she’s definitely an omega. She has this lily of the valley scent…”

His words trailed off, but they lingered in the air, wrapping around me like a vine, constricting, suffocating. A rush of jealousy surged through me, hot and unexpected. The thought of Gideon being close enough to an omega to discern her scent, to comfort her in her moment of vulnerability… it was too much.

I leaned in, capturing his lips in a searing kiss, a silent demand for his attention, his focus—his desire. I poured everything I had into that kiss, my tongue sweeping against his, my teeth nipping at his lower lip, my hands roaming over his body with a possessiveness that bordered on desperation.

When we finally broke apart, both of us breathless and panting, Gideon’s eyes were dark with renewed desire, the blush on his cheeks a testament to the heat that still simmered between us. “Xavier,” he breathed, his voice a hoarse whisper that fanned the flames of my jealousy.

I silenced him with another kiss, this one slower, deeper, a silent promise that he was mine, and I was his, and nothing—not even the revelation about Xiomara—could change that.