Chapter 3: Morning After
Consciousness returned to Megumi in soft, warm increments. First, the deep, rhythmic sound of breathing behind her ear. Then, the heavy, solid warmth encircling her, an arm like an iron band across her ribs. Finally, the dull, throbbing ache between her legs, a deep fullness that was both foreign and anchoring.
His knot was still inside her. Smaller now, but present, a thick plug of flesh keeping her open and intimately connected to him. She twitched, a small movement of surprise, and the arm around her tightened.
“Easy,” Sukuna’s voice rumbled, sleep-rough and impossibly close. His lips brushed the juncture of her shoulder. “It’ll go down. Takes a minute.”
She froze, then relaxed back into the cradle of his body. Memories flooded her—the searing stretch, the terrifying-but-thrilling possession, the flood of heat inside her that still felt like it was pooling in her very core. Her face heated with a blush that spread down her chest.
He seemed to sense her embarrassment. His hand, splayed on her belly, stroked downward, a slow, possessive glide over her skin. He paused right above where they were joined. “Sore?”
She gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
“Good,” he said, and there was no cruelty in it. It was a fact. A marking. “Means you remember.”
He shifted then, a careful roll of his hips. The knot slipped free with a soft, wet sound. Megumi gasped at the sudden emptiness, a strange sense of loss following the relief. His seed, warm and slick, leaked out onto her inner thighs and the fur beneath them.
Before she could muster the shame to cover herself, he was moving. He sat up, the furs pooling around his waist, and reached for a basin of water and a cloth she hadn’t noticed beside the bed. He dipped the cloth, wrung it out.
“Let me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Her instinct was to curl away, to hide the mess he’d made of her. But his red eyes pinned her in place. He was her alpha. He’d done this. He would clean it.
He was surprisingly gentle. The warm cloth swiped over her trembling thighs, cleaning away the evidence of his claim. He parted her folds with careful fingers, wiping away the stickiness there too. His touch was clinical, thorough, but her body reacted anyway, a faint shiver that had nothing to do with cold. His gaze darkened, watching her, but he didn’t take more. He just cleaned her, as if tending to something precious.
“There,” he murmured, tossing the cloth aside. He pulled a fresh, softer pelt over her, tucking it around her shoulders. “Hungry?”
She was. Ravenously. She nodded again, her ears perking up.
He barked a short, sharp command toward the curtain. A moment later, a low-ranking wolf hybrid—eyes averted—slid a platter of food just inside the room and scurried away. Sukuna brought it to the bed: strips of roasted meat, wild berries that looked like dark jewels, a hunk of coarse bread.
He didn’t hand it to her. He tore a piece of meat with his fingers and brought it to her lips. “Eat.”
She opened her mouth, letting him feed her. The meat was rich, the berries burst tart and sweet on her tongue. He watched every bite, his expression one of deep satisfaction. He gave her water from a carved horn cup, holding it for her to sip.
“The others…” she whispered finally, when the edge of her hunger was gone. “The ones who brought me here. That omega… Ren.” She remembered the wiry wolf with the desperate eyes who’d called her a free-use hole. A fresh tremor went through her.
Sukuna’s face hardened. A low growl started in his chest. “You don’t think about him. You don’t look at him. He doesn’t exist for you. Understand?”
“But he’s in your pack.”
“He’s dirt under my foot,” Sukuna corrected, his voice flat. “And he knows what happens if he so much as sniffs the air you breathe.” He pushed a berry between her lips, his thumb lingering on her bottom lip. “This is your pack now. Me. This den. Nothing else matters.”
The finality of it was a shelter. She leaned into his touch, nuzzling his palm. A soft, almost purring sound escaped her before she could stop it. A bunny’s contented rumble.
His eyes lit with possessive fire. He caught her chin. “Say it,” he commanded, soft but inflexible.
Her green eyes, clear now of tears, found his. “I’m yours.”
The words hung in the sandalwood-scented air. He claimed her mouth in a slow, deep kiss, tasting of berries and ownership.
It was then that a shadow shifted at the fur curtain. A hesitant scuff of a boot. The curtain twitched, not pulled open, just disturbed.
Sukuna went utterly still. The tender possessiveness vanished, replaced by a lethal quiet. He didn’t raise his voice. “Ren.”
The curtain jerked back as if stung. The omega’s ash-brown ears were visible for a second, pinned flat to his skull. “Alpha, I just—the patrols—“
“You are at my curtain.” Sukuna’s voice was a blade wrapped in silk. He hadn’t moved from the bed, hadn’t taken his arm from around Megumi. “Do you have a death wish?”
“N-no, Alpha! Never! I just wanted to… to see if the bunny… if she served you well.”
Megumi shrank back into the furs, but Sukuna’s arm tightened, holding her against him. A living shield.
“She is not ‘the bunny’,” Sukuna said, each word measured and cold. “She is Megumi. My mate. The mother of my future pups. You will refer to her as such, or you will not refer to her at all. You will not look toward this curtain. You will not speak of her. If I hear your voice say her name, I will rip your tongue out. If I catch your scent within ten paces of this den, I will skin you and hang your pelt as a warning. Do you understand the value of the treasure you almost threw to the dogs?”
A terrified whine filtered through the thick fur. “Yes, Alpha. Forgive me.”
“Get out of my sight. Tell the pack. She is under my protection. My claim. My alone.”
The sound of frantic, scrambling footsteps echoed away.
Silence seeped back into the den, thicker than before. Sukuna’s rigid posture slowly eased. He looked down at Megumi, who was staring up at him, her heart pounding against his side.
He smoothed a hand over her hair, petting her ears until they relaxed. “No one will hurt you,” he said, the growl gone from his voice, replaced by that same unsettling tenderness. “No one will scare you. This is your place. Here. With me.”
He laid back down, pulling her with him, arranging her so her head was on his chest, her body tucked against his side. His heartbeat was a steady, powerful drum under her ear.
“Sleep,” he ordered, his chin resting on top of her head. “You’ll need your strength.”
For what, he didn’t say. But the meaning was there, in the hand that stroked her hip, in the possessive press of his body. For him. For his claim. For the life already potentially taking root inside her.
As she drifted off, lulled by his heat and his scent and the absolute safety of his ruthless protection, one thought circled in her mind.
She was his treasure. And he was her den. Her fierce, violent, tender den. And for a bunny who had never had a home, that was everything.