He pulled out a bow that looked like it was made of wheels, pulleys, and filigree, the silvery chrome finish glittering in the sunlight. All my Katniss Everdeen induced wet dreams had manifested in the hands of an alpha.
“It’s a compound bow, so the pull is nowhere near as brutal as a conventional bow would be. I spoke to the bloke at the place that sold them, and he said this was one that omegas tend to favour. We’ll giv
e it a few experimental pulls, then start shooting. So to shoot a bow properly, your stance is important.”
He stood with his legs spread apart, one foot in front of the other, slapping his thighs to draw my attention. Yeah, that was not needed at all. I was looking.
“So you hold the bow out like this.” The thing looked tiny in his grip, but he wouldn’t be the one to shoot it. “Arm out in line with your shoulder, and then draw it using these two fingers. Your draw arm should also be in line with your shoulder. You might need to take this to a fitting, ensure you have enough movement in the dress for that, and get her to make alterations.”
“She could make it strapless I think,” I replied, which drew his gaze. His eyes trailed over me, as if imagining just that, then nodded.
“OK, let’s give it a go with what you have on, just to get your stance good and strong and see how drawing the bow feels.”
I wasn’t sure what shooting an arrow would feel like, but I liked this. It was a bit like the warrior pose in yoga, and I felt strong when doing it. Hadn’t let an arrow fly yet, but y’know, I took any moment that made me feel empowered these days.
“Good, I just need to… Just gonna correct your stance a little.”
His tone was positively nervous for an alpha, and I soon felt why. He slotted his body in around mine, widening my legs and lining my feet up better, then lifting my front arm while lowering the other a little.
“You need that straight line,” he said, running a hand across my arms. “It tells the arrow where to go. Straight initially and at close range, that’d be likely all you need. Just wing him if he starts anything.”
“Who?”
“Benson, Orion, I dunno. Every one of those snooty fucks who are circling you.”
“Orion is your snooty fuck.”
“Not anymore.” He was still holding me in this position, his mouth against my ear, the hard line of his body supporting mine. “The man I mated, he wouldn’t do this, would have kicked Benson in the fucking nuts for even thinking this shit. Maybe I made him up. Maybe he was never real.”
My stance faltered, the bow dipping down as I turned to face him, seeing the pain writ clearly on his face. It made me frown, my eyes narrowing as I watched him so bloody closely. Was this what it looked like, the pain of betrayal? It tugged at me, not leaving me alone until my traitorous omega hand reached up, cupping his cheek and stroking it.
“It hurts, y’know. I’ve lived, loved, been with him for so fucking long, and to find out…” His eyes fluttered, but when they met mine, they hardened. “What am I saying? You know. Of course you do.” He kissed my knuckles briefly, leaving the butterfly soft sensation there long after he turned me around and had me practise pulling the bow.
“Deep breath in, then release.”
I had an arrow nocked in the bow, my eye following the line of it, matching it to the knot in the tree I was aiming for. I did as he said, took a breath, feeling the sounds around me drop away, and released the arrow.
Only for it to soar over the grass and bury itself in the dirt, metres from my target.
“Shit.”
“Don’t stress,” he said. “It was your first shot. You let the bow dip a little when you took that breath. Gotta make sure your stance is strong and you relax into it, not relax your whole body. I’ll show you.”
An evil part of me wondered if this was foreplay. It felt like it, the way he was forced to jam his body against mine, showing me how to shoot arrow after arrow until I started to get a feel for it, but any prickling sexual tension dissipated the minute I shot an arrow myself. By the feeling as it soared through the air, somehow I knew it was going to make it, and it did. The steel tip buried itself in the tree with a thunk I felt all through me, my stance ruined as I thrust my arms up with a whoop.
“Fuck! I did it! I fucking did it.”
“So you did, clever girl,” he said in a low rumble as I wrapped my arms around him, grabbing me around the waist and swinging me around, but it was when we came to a stop that the trouble started.
I told myself that this was me being a little selfish, grabbing a small moment of pleasure, but was it? I didn’t know, but I stared down at his lips, watching them purse under my inspection, then part as I darted closer.
“Cyn—”
I silenced him with my mouth, just a harsh press of lips, but that was never going to be enough. I slid down his body, bow dropping to the ground as my hands buried themselves in his hair. I’d been so good, holding back, not crawling back to the club the day after I’d left, anything to stop the pain, but there was no pain here, only Bren, Bren, Bren, and a need beating inside my heart along with its rapid pulse.
“I’m sorry.”
I pulled away, jerking free, touching my now swollen lips, the way the skin around them was scored by his stubble like they were the lips of someone else. He lunged after me, then pulled himself up, his hands flexing as he sucked in breaths, sucked in my perfume.