35. MAX
Chapter thirty-five
MAX
K atie tenses, her brown eyes brilliant as she glowers at Roark.
Fool .
You don’t enter a man’s domain and fuck with what’s his. And Katie is mine .
I growl as I step onto the mat. Roark swallows thickly, the power of my bark still tight enough around him that he’s moving slow. I could rip his throat out here and now, and not a single Alpha in this gym would say it was unprovoked.
That’s always the danger when Alphas fight, of course. That we take it too far, the protective, possessive instincts in us overwhelming all other thoughts.
I never got to the brink; not like right now. I never thought I’d have my own Omega, that I’d find that perfect puzzle piece to all my rough edges. That I’d want to be bound to someone so tightly I’d rip a man’s throat out just for touching her.
But here I am, bearing my teeth in my own gym, ready for blood, all because this lumbering idiot touched Katie.
Grabbed her. Against her will.
And scent-marked her . Without her consent. In front of me. Her Alpha.
“You haven't bonded with her, Max. You can’t just let a pretty Omega bitch show her ass off at your gym without your bite on her,” Roark says, his voice a line between teasing and taunting.
It was the wrong choice because I growl, rolling my shoulders back. Curse the gods above and below; I am going to kill Roark.
“Bitch?” Katie spins on her heel. She’s already taken three long strides away from Roark, but now I can feel the heat of her anger rolling off her like the bubbles on the surface of a boiling pot. Her scent, usually so sweet as to almost be drugging, turns sharp, like burnt sugar.
“I’ll show you a goddamn bitch,” she snaps.
Before I reach them, Katie clocks Roark square across the jaw. He falls to the floor, out like a light. The Alphas circling the mat break out in cheers, several whistling.
“Your bark-thing works on other Alphas,” she says, taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly.
I nod, too afraid to speak. My words are nothing but venom and I don’t want her to mistake the direction of my anger.
“Not just ‘pretty little Omega bitches’?” She says, her tone caustic.
“No.” I turn to her, grabbing her into my arms, and she enfolds into my body without fighting me.
“Clean him up and get him out of here,” I shout over her head. Caleb and Lejune, my two Alpha trainers who work this shift, immediately jump into motion. “Strike his name; he’s not allowed on the premises again.”
“Alright, Alphaholes, you’ve seen how my Omega can fight. Get back to your training, and try not to milk your knot all over my machines.”
A chorus of laughter breaks the tension in the gym, and the crowd fractures, groups heading back to their circuits for training.
But Katie moves restlessly in my arms. Something isn’t right.
I inhale, trying to sense if her unease has lessened, and I am hit by the putrid scent of rotting meat.
“Come with me,” I say, grabbing her hand and leading her to the back of my gym.
“Where are we going?”
“My office,” I say, not wanting to waste time on explanation. She needs to get clean. Needs to get his filthy scent off her now .
“Max,” she says, drawing out the A into a whine. I pause, looking at my Omega. She’s rumpled and annoyed, and I can feel a slight ripple of heat coming off her. Still angry too.
“I have towels and a private bathroom in my office. I’d like to let you clean up without spectators.”
Katie isn’t like other Omegas. She’s not going to comply just because I’m her Alpha and society says she’s mine to protect and provide, but also to lead. She is going to test me at every turn, even when I’m trying to take care of her. And it’s hot as the twin suns.
She nods and lets me guide her back to my office. I punch in the pass code harder than I intend, but we’re through the sliding glass door, and then around the corner to my sprawling office and attached bathroom.
Damn it feels good to be the owner.
“Here,” I say, pushing open the door to my office and handing her one of the freshly laundered towels that I keep in a stack by the door. I hate bringing my gym stink into my office if I can avoid it.
She gingerly pats down around her neck and between her breasts.
God her perfect breast, just enough to hold, but still perky and firm when she presses against me. I want to strip her down right now and suck on her nipples until they're hard.
But not with that fucker’s scent still all over her.
“No, wipe your neck and head,” I say, reaching for her towel when she stares blankly at me.
“What?” She says, backing out of my reach.
“You have to get it off,” I say, my voice strained. I’m caught between arousal and anger. A dangerous combination for an Alpha.
She runs her bottom lip between her teeth and it almost breaks me. My cock strains under my gym shorts. I could lean her back onto my desk, spread her open as I peel off those tight leggings, and feast on her wet pussy until we’re both a mess.
I lick my lips.
Not until that fucker’s scent is off of her. My Alpha need to claim my Omega rides me hard. I can feel my incisors lubricate for the bite. But I will not claim her unless and until she agrees. We're not there yet.
But gods forgive me, I want to.
“What do I need to get off? I’m not that sweaty.” She crosses her arms.
“His scent,” I manage to say with a strangled breath.
Katie raises her eyebrows then her eyes widen and her nostrils flare.
She stills as I come forward. Beside my desk is a large water cooler– easier than filling up in the hallway– it’s good to be the boss. I run the towel under the water dispenser until it’s slightly damp.
Tenderly, as though approaching a skittish puppy, I drag the damp towel over Katie’s hair, wiping away the rotten meat stench and the last residue of the scent blocker, and free her sweet cinnamon-maple scent to flood the room.
She swallows as I move the towel to her neck, gently running it over her shoulders and back up her collar bone.
I watch the muscles of her throat contract and relax as she swallows.
“Scents really matter to you,” she says, as I run the towel over the other side of her neck.
I trace the edge of her jaw and back down to her collarbone, and across to the scoop of her workout shirt. I want to strip it from her and trail kisses from the hollow of her neck between the perfect valley of her breasts, down her taut stomach, ending in my feast.
When I look up at her, she gasps. But it isn’t fear that rolls off her in thick waves.
No, my Omega is perfuming. For me.