30. Oscar
30
Oscar
“ Y
ou… you dreamt it was me who died?” she whispers, her voice horrified, her eyes wide and full of tears.
She doesn’t wait for me to reply, immediately reaching out to cradle my head into her hands. Her fingers tremble, but her grip is firm—desperate, even. She pulls me forward, pressing my head between her breasts.
Her entire body wraps around mine like she’s trying to fuse us both together. It’s not just comfort she’s offering—it’s instinct. She’s touch-starved in the way only an omega in emotional distress can be.
Which makes me such a cunt to wish that she was naked.
“Oh, Oscar.” She sobs, wrapping around me the best she can so every part of me is being touched. It’s lovely, even if it doesn’t heal the hurt.
“Please, don’t cry.”
She shudders, trying to catch her sobs but failing. She can’t calm herself, not even a little bit. My heart aches, but it’s nowhere near the pain that I felt when I had that dream.
When I thought she was… when I thought they were both dead.
In my memory of Odelia, all that blood, I had no idea where it was from or how it happened.
In my dream of Emme? The blood was pooled all around our baby.
The pair of them lay lifeless, neither breathing, both pale. It was horrific, and in my heart, I knew it was real.
I don’t know how to explain this to her. I don’t even know if I should. She’s already so hysterical. So broken.
I could never tell Odelia the truth about my dreams—not after witnessing her breakdown when I shared the first one with her. The burden of my mental health became a pressure on her when she was already dealing with so much.
Even today, my sister’s health is so rough on her, so painful. She’s in constant agony, and no matter how many trials I’ve funded for her, how many specialists I’ve hired… it’s made no difference.
Emme’s sobs are getting louder, her breathing far more erratic than I’d like—twelve hitches in the last twenty-three seconds. I’m worried about her blood pressure. About the baby.
“Come on, my love, please, calm down.” I lift my head from her chest, despite her best efforts to pin me down.
Under the soft lights, my eyes adjust quickly, and she takes my breath away. She’s gorgeous. Even with tears streaking down her face, she’s beautiful.
“You’re alive. You’re safe. Everything is okay.” I don’t move, not wanting to startle the unstable omega. She’s on edge, and her scent is pouring out of her, sharing her distress with the world.
“But in your mind, it wasn’t ,” she gasps, shaking her head. “You thought we were hurt, and you came here for me .” She continues shaking her head, the tears falling faster.
I hesitate, not sure if my touch will help or make things worse. I tentatively reach out but pause. She’s hysterical, and I’m frustrated that I’ve caused this.
Maybe I should’ve just watched her outside the house. Peeked through her windows to see if she was alive. I’m sure if I had my torch and pressed my face against the glass, I’d have been able to see the rise and fall of her chest.
Fuck, I should’ve just done that.
I’ve fucked all of this. I shouldn’t have burdened her with this pain, with my drama. I should just leave.
I move away, ever so slightly, and my omega growls, low and feral. Her eyes are wide, her face red and puffy. If I hadn’t witnessed her sobs, I’d be worried she’s having an allergic reaction.
She lunges towards me, pushing my chest down and straddling my hips in one fluid move. Her hair is wild, her eyes frenzied. She presses onto my chest, and, sure, I could fight her, but I don’t really want to.
Not when she’s showing me how alive she really is.
“Don’t you dare leave me like this,” she demands, and her eyes seem brighter in this position. Likely the refraction from the light, but it’s enchanting regardless.
“I mean it. I need you. All of you. Your pain. Your fears. Your hurt.”
“You need it?” I scoff, and she presses down further. It’s nowhere near enough to hurt, but the pressure feels wonderful. Stimulating, comforting, perfect.
Fuck, she’s a wonder.
“I need you, Alpha.” She shakes her head, her hair framing her face like a veil. “I want you to tell me your dreams. I want you to share your truths. No matter how horrible.”
“It’s too much for you, Emmeline. You don’t want to hear it. It would kill you, just like it did Odelia.”
She shakes her head. “Your sister is undeniably a strong woman, Oscar, but I’m not her. Tell me.”
“There was blood in your mouth, pooling down your cheek and throat,” I mutter.
She flicks her hair back, moving her head as she trails her fingers down her bare throat. “Clean, see?”
“And your mouth?” I can’t help myself, can’t help the scorn and the frustration. I can’t help pushing her.
She leans forward, capturing my lips in her own, and in a bruising kiss that absolutely takes my breath away, she proves without a doubt that her mouth is clean .
Then again—I think right now, my little omega can only be described as dirty.
She pulls away, and my teeth seem to sharpen as an ache burns inside me. Her breathing is unsteady, her pupils dilated. She liked that as much as I did.
Maybe more, if I go by how her scent has spiked by about sixty percent. The arousal is so potent I wish I could bottle it up and smell it forever.
“What else?” she demands. Her nails dig into my chest, and, fuck, I hope she doesn’t draw blood.
“Your heart was silent,” I admit.
“Then listen to it now.” She reaches for the fabric at her waist, the dark blue jumper that belongs to Sterling gets yanked over her head. I freeze, seeing her bare for the first time.
She’s got beautiful full breasts, darkening nipples that show the changes her body is going through as it grows my child. Our child.
The swell of her stomach, proof of the life inside her.
She’s glorious. Maternal. Radiant.
But she doesn’t pause in bending down by the waist, and pressing her chest to my head, immediately taking my beautiful view away. It would be laughable if I could trust myself to make a move.
I see what she’s trying to do and how she’s trying to help me. Unfortunately for her, it doesn’t work. I can’t hear her heartbeat at this angle.
I can, however, feel the soft flesh of her breast pressed into the side of my face. It’s warm, heavy, even, and, honestly, if I moved my head ever so slightly, I could taste her.
Fuck.
She’s a tease without even realising it.
“Do you feel?” she murmurs. I feel something . “Can you hear it? I’m alive, Oscar. I’m here with you, for you, always.”
I squeeze her softly. “I hear it.”
She nods, moving back so she’s straddling my chest. She tries to move down, but I grab her hips, holding her into place. This isn’t about sex, no matter how aroused I am, and I don’t want her to think I’m cheapening her love by the raging fucking erection I have.
“You’re allowed to need this, so let me be the one to give it to you,” she says softly.
I nod my head, not even sure what I’m agreeing to, but right now—I’d offer her my soul.
There’s a burning need forming in my chest, I can feel it spreading through my veins. Fire, electricity— connection .
“No matter what you saw or how you felt, it wasn’t true,” my mate promises. “You can feel my warmth, you’ve heard my heartbeat, you can see the rise and fall of my chest. Our baby is too small to kick, but we can book a scan for tomorrow if you need that reassurance.”
“We can?” I ask nervously.
She nods. “First thing. If you’re open to it, we can bring Uri and Sterling, too. They’ve not yet got to see our baby.”
I let out a small breath and nod. “Yes. Okay. Yes. I’d like that.”
“Good.” She brushes her hand across my face, and I have to breathe in and out through my mouth to resist the urge to attack her wrist.
Biting. Licking. Sucking.
Anything.
I just want to get my mouth on her skin. To feel her, taste her, touch her.
Her scent is so strong, so potent, and the scent gland on her wrist is tantalising temptation.
I can’t withstand it.
Luckily, she moves her hands before I give in to the urge.
She shifts her weight, sliding further down my body. I hold her waist tighter as she reaches my groin area.
Little tease that she is.
“Can I… can I please…” I trail off, shuddering underneath her soft touch. There’s a desperation building inside me. I need her more than I’ve ever needed anything before.
There’s such a powerful urge within me to just take her. To claim her. To bond her to me so that I never have to feel this way again.
If I can just solidify the claim, then I’ll always be able to feel her. I’d even be able to sense the baby.
I’d never need to panic. Never need to worry.
Because I’d always have that connection, that insight into their feelings, into their health, into their life.
“What do you need?” she asks, but I shake my head, unable to voice it.
I can’t beg. I won’t.
And I know how she feels about the bonding. Right now, my mate is not ready.
I’d be the biggest scum of the Earth if I pressured her.
If I used this vulnerability of hers right now to take this choice from her. I know she’d say yes in a heartbeat. That she’d offer her soul to me to ease my pain.
She’s genetically built to do so.
But I won’t ask.
“Oscar,” she begs, nuzzling her face into my neck. “Please don’t pull away from me now. I’m begging you.”
I groan into her hair and wrap my arms around her. “I need to feel you. Just to know this isn’t a dream—that you’re really here.”
“Then feel me,” she offers, pulling back slightly so her beautiful icy blue eyes meet mine. “I’m here. Take what you need.”
“Don’t offer something you’ll regret giving.”
“I won’t regret anything,” she says, kneeling up over the top of me. I watch as she moves to the side before tugging down her pyjama shorts.
Her scent hits me stronger, more powerful, more delicious, than anything I’ve ever smelled.
My mouth literally waters.
“No clothes,” she says softly. “I don’t want anything between us. This is just you and I, and I want for you to feel every single part of me. To know that I’m alive.”
I have to reach up to wipe the drool away. She says all the right words. Has all the right ideas.
She’s perfect.
I don’t move as she reaches to pull the duvet back, my cock springing forward. She doesn’t look down, doesn’t reach for it, as she lays down right next to me.
She’s burning, and it’s like heavenly fire. I gasp. Or does she? I can’t tell.
I swallow thickly, stunned, as my scent seems to blend with hers.
“You’re so warm,” I whisper. My voice is hoarse, shaky, even.
“Because I’m here ,” she murmurs, turning her head into my tricep. Her lips are soft and smooth as she kisses me. “Because I’m yours, Alpha.”
She doesn’t rush me, doesn’t push anything past what I could be comfortable with. I’m so scared I’m stealing something from her, and yet, she’s treating me as if I’m the one that needs the gentle hand.
As she guides my hand along her body, I brush against her breast, her stomach, her waist, it’s all slow and grounding. There’s no real hunger in her movements, no heat-fuelled desperation.
Just connection.
And yet, I can smell her slick. Each drop of it is soaking into the fabrics of her nest. I just fucking wish they were dripping onto my tongue.
“Can I…” I trail off, whispering again.
My mate pushes up onto her side and cups my cheek with her other hand. “Yes, please, Oscar. Please stop depriving us both.”
And, well, who am I to argue with that?
I no longer hesitate. She moves down my body, pressing herself against me, and I reach up to pull her head down to mine. The angle is off, so I meet her halfway, and, this time, I’m the one to connect our lips.
I taste her, devour her, and I hold her so tight against me. The burn from where our skin touches is the best thing I’ve ever felt. The most perfect feeling in the world.
Eighteen moans later, my mate is grinding against me, her slick soaking my cock, dripping down me, covering me completely. Our scents merge together, and it’s euphoric.
Her hips move faster, and I angle up, pressing myself to try and help her reach the high she’s chasing. I don’t relent, fighting her tongue with mine, and I know that I brush against the right spot when she screams.
Her entire body shatters, her eyes closing, her whimpers turning into a long whine, as she rides out her pleasure. Her body is trembling, and if I wasn’t holding her up, I have no doubt that she’d fall.
So beautiful, so explosive.
“You’re so perfect, Emmeline.” I tighten my grip on her hips. “Your moans are so sweet, so attractive. You’re everything.”
Her eyes flutter, her whine cutting off, and there’s an almost groggy smile on her face. “That was… well, better than I expected.”
I frown. “You’ve had one before, right?”
She laughs, her giggles so light-hearted and sweet. “Yes. Many. But the only ones I’ve had from another person have been when I was in heat, and my mind wasn’t exactly my own.”
“So, I got a first?”
Her grin is so wide as she nods. “Yes.” She adjusts herself and cringes. “Um, should I?—”
“No,” I bark, not intending it to be a command. She doesn’t seem to care. I hold her hips in place. “I fucking love that you’re coating me in your scent. Maybe if it was a horrible scent, then I’d not be happy, but it’s so lovely, so divine.”
Emme slaps my chest. Not hard enough to hurt or leave a mark, but she shakes her head as her scent lightens with her amusement. “You’re awful.”
“Awful?” I demand, and she nods her head. Within a blink, I have her pinned to the floor of the nest, one hand holding her chest, and the other free to start tickling her.
She gasps, and the moment my hand finds her side, she squeals. It’s so sharp, so high-pitched, that it echoes through the house. My grin is wide, and her laughter is like music to my soul.
She can’t be dead when she’s laid here laughing.
When her scent fills my nose and her skin warms my hands.
“Stop, stop,” she begs, crying and writhing underneath me. Her breasts move, and I’m so tempted to taste them as I keep going. “Oscar, please!”
Her legs are kicking out, tears of laughter welled up in her gorgeous but eyes, and I couldn’t stop myself from giving her this joy even if I wanted to. But as I brush against her nipple, even by accident, her scent changes.
Just a flicker. Barely a hint.
But I notice.
I can’t help myself.
Not in fear or discomfort. Not in annoyance or surprise.
But in need.
Raw, desperate need.
The air thickens as, this time, I do it again. Her giggles are cut off by a moan, and her eyes dilate as fast as her scent changes. It’s thick, sweet, cloying…
“Oh, baby, you smell so good,” I gasp.
“Please, Oscar, please,” she begs, trying to move underneath me. She reaches out, trying to move my hands, trying to guide me to go where she wants me.
“Ah, ah, ah,” I say, shaking my head. “We don’t rush things around here, little omega.”
I trail my hand down her chest, not pausing as I guide it through her pubic hair and between her folds. Slick is gushing out of her, a desperate omega preparing to be fucked, and my mouth waters.
“Are you sure?” I murmur, stopping just before I take it any further.
“Stop,” she says, and I freeze instantly. I don’t want to move and accidentally make this worse, but I don’t want her to think I’m trying to ignore her command.
Her eyes lock onto mine, and her smile doesn’t fade—but her expression changes. Warmer. Wilder. Her scent spikes again, so heady it has me dizzy.
I’m confused. What have I done wrong?
“Do you smell that, Alpha?” she asks, smug and breathless. “That’s what you do to me. Every drop is for you , because of you.”
I groan, my finger twitching, and she purrs. My smile is instinctive, but I won’t make a move until she gives me permission.
I growl low in my chest, pressing my nose against her throat, right above the gland. “You’re so fucking intoxicating.”
Her hands find my shoulders, digging in. “Then please, Alpha, do something about it. Taste me, touch me, take me.”
“Really?” I murmur. Logic says wait—track her breathing, check her pulse, count her heartbeat.
Instead… my tongue darts out and licks over her gland. I’ve already lost the fight. Her cry of pleasure fills the room, and I do it again. My gums begin to ache, my teeth desperate to sink into her, to mark her as ours.
I have to move away.
I can’t trust myself.
“You’re playing with fire,” I mention as I kiss down her chest.
“I’m your omega. I was born to burn for you.” She arches her back, and I feel every inch of her as I move.
I fucking lose it.
I press my face into her core, my tongue lapping at her. Messily, sloppily, but I don’t care. I get the taste of the slick-disguised nectar, and I don’t stop until her next release coats my entire face. She’s gushing, and I swallow as much of it as I physically can.
I don’t want to leave a single drop to soak into the fabric, to escape me and my tongue. With the urge to mark her so strong, her cum is enough to sate my need.
Her slick clings to my lips, my chin, my neck. I’ve never been so drenched in something so divine. When I die, this is the way I want to go out.
But my mate is trembling now, her limbs slowly relaxing beneath me. Her breath hitches, and her body stills.
Guilt hits me out of nowhere, and I feel like the filthiest alpha alive.
How could I do this to her? Take this from her?
I pull back, her eyes still closed, her breathing starting to slow. I lick my lips the best I can, unable to stop myself from taking every last bit of her juices, before wiping my mouth on the back of my hand as gently as I can.
I move away from her, not wanting to touch her and make this any worse than it already is. I try not to jostle her so I don’t ruin her glow with my presence.
I gave her pleasure. She came for me. I should be proud. Should feel powerful. Should feel honoured.
Instead, all I feel is… wrong. Dirty. Scummy.
Like I fed my need when she was soft, vulnerable, and broken from everything I’ve dumped on her tonight. I’ve ruined her night, stole from her, and then… practically raped her in the process.
Her hand shoots out, catching my wrist. She smiles at me. “Give me a minute, then I am so returning that favour.”
“Emme,” I whisper, trying to disentangle myself from her. “You should rest.”
“Don’t,” she says, her eyes flying open. Her voice is raw. Not panicked but resolute, and I can feel her bristling nerves. “Don’t pull away from me, Oscar, please.”
“I just—” I falter, forcing my eyes to the lights up ahead instead of her bare chest. “You gave me that, and I don’t want to be greedy. You’ve already done so much tonight. For me. Let’s just rest.”
She scoots closer, my heart racing as I fight to remain level-headed. It’s hard to fight off the rut, though, when her scent is filled with sex, lust, and pleasure.
Her skin sticks slightly to mine where the slick hasn’t dried yet, the clammy sweat from us both feeling a little grimy.
“That wasn’t for you,” she says, eyes sparkling even through the exhaustion. “That was mine. And I chose to give it to you.”
I shake my head, but she’s already climbing onto my lap.
“I want you so badly,” Emme murmurs, chasing my lips with her own, stealing kisses as she goes. “I need you.”
I trace my fingers along her cheek, searching for any sign of hesitation as she kisses my neck. There’s none. Only devotion, adoration.
A strong need to remind me that I am loved, even when I feel unworthy of it.
“You already have me,” I whisper. “Every damn part of me.” I tug her up, kissing her swiftly, and she whimpers when I pull away. I need her to hear me on this. I need her to understand. “But I don’t want you to do this because you think I need it, Emme.”
She groans, her entire body shuddering above me. She’s wound up so tightly, so desperately, that I guarantee it would take barely anything to get her to shatter entirely.
“I’m not doing this to fix you,” she whispers. “I’m doing this because I want you. All of you.”
“I want you, too, Emme, so badly.”
I move, flipping us, resting on my forearms, as I line up at her entrance. There’s not a chance I can hurt her or that she won’t be ready, but I want to take my time with this. I want to memorise every detail, to feel every single touch of her.
She’s warm, so fucking warm. The further in I push, the hotter she seems to get.
It’s clear now—she’s not a corpse.
Emme’s skin is so soft, so warm, so rosy. She’s not a ghost either.
She might be my soul mate, my literal dreams come to life—but she’s not a dream either.
Emmeline is real.
Perfect.
Everything.
“I love you,” I gasp as I finally bottom out inside her. Her eyes fly open, shock lacing her scent for a brief moment, before I twitch inside her, and pleasure takes over once again.
I didn’t mean to tell her that now. I didn’t want to scare her away.
But it’s true. I love her more than anyone.
More than Odelia. More than my pack.
More than myself, really.
She’s light. Sweet. And genuine.
Her fingers find mine, lacing together tightly as I pull out and push back in. Over and over, I thrust, and her eyes stay locked onto mine. I don’t know whether she wants to burn each moment into her memory or if the eye-contact is for my benefit.
It’s working though, as she reminds me with every single movement that she’s real, that she’s safe, that we’re together .
My scent wraps around hers like a second skin, clinging to her, claiming her, connecting us together. She’s marked by me now.
Well, the best she can be without me using my teeth.
Her hands tighten around mine, her eyes fluttering as her head tips back slightly, exposing her throat—not in fear, but in instinct. Her body knows what it wants, what it needs. Me. My claim. My bite.
But I won’t give it.
Not now. Not like this.
The way her slick pulses around me, the way her scent thickens in the air… it’s enough to make any alpha lose control.
But I don’t.
I wait.
Until her voice breaks with a desperate cry, and I feel her tremble around me again, her hands gripping me in a bruising hold.
“Please, Alpha, please,” she begs, her inner walls shaking around me. “Please give me your knot. I’m so close, I’m so ready. I just need you. Need all of you.”
Her blinks are getting longer and longer, and I know she’s struggling to stay here in the moment. Her orgasm is so close, her body unable to hold out much longer.
It’s only the fact that she’s had two so far that has allowed her to wait.
“Not yet.”
She groans, her whimper so fucking beautiful as her scent perfumes into the air. It only drives me to fuck her faster and harder. She takes whatever I give and begs for more.
I fucking love it.
I love her .
“Please, Alpha, please,” she begs, rolling her head side-to-side as her hips move to meet my thrusts.
As I growl low, she purrs in response, and I push forward once more, sheathing my knot inside her completely and fully. This isn’t just instinct. It’s commitment. Bonding. Surrender.
Not just hers—mine.
I’m knotting her because I need her, sure, but it’s more than that. I’m knotting her because I know that I can keep her safe, that I can protect her, that I deserve her.
She shatters underneath me, and my whole body shudders as my knot secures itself inside, and my seed spills inside her.
A part of me is angry that Uri got here first, knowing that I’m wasting my cum.
Then again, it just means we get to do this as many times over, to practice.
My knot seems to prolong her orgasm, her pleasure easily seen and heard. Pride fills me knowing that I did this. I’ve made her feel good. I’ve made her feel safe, and comfortable, and happy.
I might’ve ruined her night with my weakness, but at least she got a few orgasms out of it.
She settles against me, boneless and soft, her scent still humming with satisfaction. I should feel triumphant. I should let the peace settle in my chest. But the numbers aren’t adding up. My skin feels tight.
Too hot.
Like I’ve said the wrong thing at a party again, and the tension is cloying as everyone pretends that it didn’t happen.
She’s so still. Too still. And that ugly thought rears again.
What if she’s not breathing? What if I missed something? I don’t move, don’t dare to shift—just listen.
I count. Four seconds. Five. Still no rise.
My knot is still tight inside her, and the warmth of her body against mine is so soothing. Unfortunately, even in the silence, I can’t hear her breathing or her heartbeat.
Another knot forms—this one in my stomach, as my chest tightens. My anxiety builds, my breathing quickening.
Emme’s hand jolts slightly on my chest.
“Still alive?” I murmur, trying my best to keep the panic out of my voice. I don’t want her to hear it and lose her contentment.
She breathes against my chest, and, I swear, it’s the only sound I’ve ever needed.
No blood. No silence. Just this. Just her.
She hums, so soft and quietly. “Always. Now go to sleep, Alpha. You did everything right.”
“So did you,” I reply as some of the anxiety loosens. I brush a kiss against her forehead and hold onto her as tight as I can. She drifts off quite easily, but, no matter how hard I try, I can’t.
I won’t wake her. I won’t do anything to disturb her.
But I’ll stay guard all night long, making sure she’s safe.
That she survives.
I’m her alpha—it’s my job.