I heard the call end and the sounds of kids playing in the background, but Brendan didn’t start the car initially, just filled the cab full of rough, ragged breaths, until finally, I moved.
The dynamic between alphas and omegas was such a fucking weird one. Like, betas spent their time negotiating shit and talking, endless talking, about how they felt and what they wanted to do and why. It’d been why therapy was so fucking hard for me. I was part creature of instinct, part rational being, and the two didn’t talk real well to each other. So I didn’t entirely understand why I unclipped my seatbelt, why I moved to straddle the centre console of the car and then him. The conscious part of my brain wondered at this, if I was getting in-between the man and his mates, if I was stepping in where I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t seem to care. I settled my legs on either side of his thighs, being careful not to lean back too far and hit the horn on the steering wheel, and then I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“What are you doing, omega?” he grumbled, all invulnerable alpha again. “Why are you…?”
His voice trailed away as I plastered my body against his, just listening to the racket of his heart as I took long, slow breaths, until his started to match mine. Arms went around me, surging, clasping, holding me so fucking close, it was almost hard to breathe, his nose buried in my neck. He sucked my scent down, no doubt seeking all that soothing omega bullshit.
“I shouldn’t have put you in that situation. I thought I could control it, but…”
I laughed at that, something that stopped him short, his head pulling back so he could see me more clearly, his brows knotting.
“In my first season, a man, an alpha tried to rape me,” I replied. Fingers bit into my skin, then forced to relax. “He separated me from my chaperone and lured me into a darkened room. It smelled heavily of cigars. I can’t bear the scent of them now. They make me sick to my stomach, have me vomiting if I don’t get downwind of them. He used his alpha control over an eighteen-year-old omega to force her on her knees as he undid his belt buckle, ready to use me.”
“Omega…” His growl was a warning, but to me or my abuser, I couldn’t tell.
“George interrupted him, whisked me away, got m
e home and in bed before anyone was the wiser, and then he told my mother. So you see, today was no burden to me. I met some nice, caring people who love you so very much. So much so, they welcomed some bloody random omega into the house like a prodigal daughter, not because of who I am or who my mother is, but because I’m a symbol to them of your happiness. They want you to be happy, so they googled what foods to make an omega and asked you to bring your mates around. It was awkward and weird, but it will be just as weird when I go to whatever stupid bloody soiree George chooses for me tonight, but I guarantee with nowhere near the same level of love. Love.” I nodded, realising I’d held this alpha’s eyes for the whole entire conversation, the words somehow overriding whatever instincts drove me. “So don’t be sorry for today, not on my account.”
And with that said, I went to crawl off his lap and go back to my seat, and it only occurred to me now that I’d probably left my scent on the man for his mates to discover. But hands locked down around me, a low growl the only warning I got.
“I need you to stay very, very still, omega.”
All the warmth and sweetness was gone now, replaced by a throaty threat. But that was the contradiction of an omega. He’d snarled something similar, the man whose face I’d thoroughly blocked out, only the embossed design on his belt buckle something I remembered, but I felt no real fear when Brendan growled at me.
Instead, it was that delicious skittishness, making me want to both run away and run towards the source of that growl, not entirely sure what to do. So I froze, my eyes sliding sideways, catching the way the tendons stood out in his neck, the slight tremor in his shoulders. He was holding himself back by a thread, and didn’t I just want to snip it? A slow feral smile spread across his face as my scent told him exactly that.
His hand slid to my throat, easy now in the pretty blouse I’d chosen to wear, thumbing my pulse before sliding around to grip the back of my neck. The bite of his fingers into my skin had me frozen perfectly still, at his mercy. I saw the flash of his fangs, peeking past his lips, saw his tongue flick out to taste me on the air.
“If you do this,” I said in a quivery voice, “they’ll know. You’d have to be covered in my scent already. It’ll drive them mad, the ones you love.”
“I know,” he replied as he angled his face closer.
My eyes traced the lines of those full lips over and over, creating a dot to dot with the stubble around it. His kisses would hurt a little, which made me squirm, thinking about how the sharp bristles would scrape my tender skin, making it flush red. So why did I want exactly that? Part of me that I’d never been able to expose to the therapist’s cool eye was this.
I wanted to be prey for someone who was worthy of that privilege, feel them prise me open, slam through my meagre shields, and fuck me raw. And when he looked at me like this, like I was some sort of precious idol and something to be sullied, all at the same time, it made me feel like that could happen.
“I need your taste, omega…” he said in a ragged tone, pulling my head down to his. “And damn the fucking consequences.”
Chapter 13
His kiss hurt just like I thought it would.
It was bruising, forcing my lips hard against my skull, his grinding into mine. That probably didn’t sound all that sexy, but fuck… I was used to people wanting me, desiring me because they got a sniff of me or whose daughter I was, but not this. He couldn’t finesse things, give me sweet little teasing kisses to persuade my lips to part. He took my mouth and made it completely his, his hands digging into my skull, grabbing my hair to stop me from pulling away, until little whines escaped my throat. He jerked backwards, those strange amber eyes scanning me until a long slow smile spread across his face.
He watched me, catalogued the ways in which I responded to him with a kind of cool calculation I’d always associated with alphas, but this time, I wanted that. I wanted him counting my rapid little breaths, the way my skin was scraped raw by his stubble, and the swell of my lips.
“Jesus, omega, I’ve been a very bad alpha for you today.” I just quivered there, held in place by his grip, feeling that really fucking big lump between my thighs that told me just how bad he was. “So why can’t I find a way to stop?”
He pulled me back down, and this time, it was different. He could persuade his mates that it was a spur of the moment the first time, that he’d been upset and things had gotten out of control, but now? He was choosing this, choosing me, and fuck if I didn’t want him too. He brought me closer, closer, my lips parting, my tongue flicking out, because I needed him with a sudden violence that near took my breath away. That came out in a thin moan.
“You’re needy, omega? Are you soaking your little panties for me?” He darted in, kissing me before I could say anything, but I’d lost the power of speech. My mouth had only one purpose—to taste him. I dared to let my hands roam, ruffling his hair, stroking down his neck, pushing ineffectually at his shirt, trying to get to all the hot alpha goodness.
Because he was right—needy was the best word for it. Him, the way I felt, it all clouded my mind, made it seem like gyrating on the lap of an alpha who wasn’t mine in front of a children’s playground was not only a good idea, but the only one.
Unfortunately, not one others shared.
A sharp rap on the passenger side window alerted us to the fact we had company and they weren’t happy. An understandably pissed mother stood there with a frown.