Iris's POV 

I swallowed, my throat felt raw.

The taste of him was still on my tongue, whiskey and something darker, something alpha. My own scent was everywhere, too: sweet, the unmistakable musk of an omega in heat. I was lying against his chest on the study sofa.

Rafael's hair was a mess, his lips slightly swollen from kissing me, from biting me. 

The heat had eased, the sharpest edge of it, anyway, the unbearable burning that had driven me down those stairs 

I sat up slowly.

He felt the movement and his hand came to my back. "Hey?"

"I need..." I stopped. I pressed my lips together and looked...