23. Moses
Moses
The moment of clarity hits me like a freight train. Fucking Koa, feeling her take me so completely, has unraveled something inside of me, some primal instinct that I didn’t even know existed. I get it now. I fucking get it. What Hunter’s been talking about, what Amel’s been hinting at—this need to make everything perfect for her, to take away her tears, her nightmares, her pain. To be her everything. It’s overwhelming and grounding all at once and I know there’s no going back.
I stay still, my arms wrapped around her as my knot holds us together, her body soft and warm against mine. She’s already passed out, her breath slow and even, her head tucked under my chin. I run a hand gently down her back, my fingers tracing lazy circles against her skin. She’s so fucking beautiful like this, so peaceful, and it makes me want to destroy anything—or anyone—that tries to take this away from her.
When my knot finally goes down, I move carefully, not wanting to disturb her, but she lets out a soft whine in protest as I scoop her up into my arms. “Shh, sweetheart,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Just taking you to get cleaned up.”
She mumbles something incoherent, her arms wrapping loosely around my neck as I carry her into the bathroom. The shower’s already running, the sound of the water filling the room as I step inside with her, letting the warmth cascade over us.
Koa lets out a small moan, her head lolling back against my shoulder as I settle her under the spray. “I’m tired,” she murmurs, her voice soft and full of that post-heat haze.
“I know,” I say as I press a kiss to her damp shoulder. “Just let me take care of you, yeah?”
She hums in response, her body pliant in my arms as I reach for the soap. I take my time, running my hands over her skin with slow, deliberate strokes, washing away the remnants of our time together. My lips follow the path of my hands, brushing against her shoulders, her neck, her cheeks. She tilts her head to look up at me, her dark eyes hazy and a little glassy, a sloppy, blissed-out smile tugging at her lips.
It’s everything.
That smile—that soft, unguarded moment—hits me harder than I expected, and for a second, I almost lose control. My beast is already clawing at the edges, begging to take her again, to press her against the tile and make her mine all over again. But I force it down, clenching my jaw as I remind myself that we don’t have time for that.
The steam from the shower clings to the air, the bathroom warm as I shut off the water and then grab a towel to wrap Koa in, carefully drying her off. Her skin is soft, flushed red from the heat, and every little sound she makes, every sleepy sigh or faint hum, sends a spark of possessive pride through me.
“Koa,” I start, wondering how she’s going to take this next bit of information. “We’ve got to step out for a few hours.”
She stiffens immediately, her head snapping up to glare at me. Her eyes are fiery, sharp and challenging, even as her hair is damp and her body is swaddled in a towel. “I’m not staying here alone,” she snaps, her tone leaving no room for argument.
I snort, realizing that our Omega is only submissive when she lets herself be. It’s glorious. “Sweetheart, you’re too close to your heat. It’s not safe for you to—”
“Don’t care,” she cuts me off, her glare intensifying. “I’m not staying here.”
That look on her face, the sheer determination radiating off her in waves, makes it impossible to say no. I press my lips together, biting back a smile as I nod. “Fine,” I say, holding up my hands in mock surrender. “Find something to wear. I’ll take care of lunch.”
She gives me one last look, a mix of suspicion and triumph, before turning on her heel and heading out of the bathroom. I watch her go, shaking my head with a grin as I pull on my own clothes.
When I step out into the living room, Hunter’s already there, pacing like a caged animal. The second he sees me, his eyes narrow. “You’re letting her come with us?” he snaps. “That’s stupid, Moses. She’s too close to her heat—what if something happens?”
I chuckle, leaning against the doorframe as I cross my arms over my chest. “You’re welcome to go in there and tell her no,” I say, arching an eyebrow at him. “Look her in the eyes and explain why she can’t come.”
Hunter’s jaw works, his teeth grinding together as he mutters something under his breath. Before he can respond, though, the sound of soft footsteps pulls our attention.
Koa steps into the room, dressed in a snug orange sweater that clings to her curves and a pair of tight jeans that show off every inch of her. She looks like sin wrapped in autumn, and for a second, all I can do is stare. She glances between us, her eyes narrowing when she catches Hunter’s open mouth.
“Well?” she asks, her hands on her hips. “Am I coming or not?”
Hunter’s lips press into a thin line, his gaze darting to me and then back to her. Finally, he sighs, throwing up his hands. “Yeah, fine,” he grumbles. “You can come.”
From behind us, Amel’s laugh echoes through the room, “They’re not lying when they say having an Omega adds an entirely different dynamic to the pack.”
At the first sign of her heat and any discomfort, I’m dragging her right back here. But Amel doesn’t seem worried so I’ll trust that she’ll be safe with us at her side.
I regret letting Koa come with us because the moment we stepped into the building, Amel swiped her into his office so that we could focus. But that’s the last thing I’m doing.
Having Koa on my cock this morning has left a part of me buzzing, distracted, primal. My beast doesn’t want to be here, sifting through files and data. It wants her. Wants her warmth, her scent, her fucking everything. But I shove it down, grit my teeth, and focus. There’s work to do, and Hunter’s halfway across the room, pacing like a caged animal while tapping away at his tablet.
Our desks face each other, papers and files scattered everywhere as we try to piece together the mess Paula left behind. I’ve been digging through records for the last hour, going back a few years, looking for anything that might connect her to Teplone Industries. So far, it’s been a lot of nothing—just basic searches, harmless entries that don’t look like anything more than day-to-day tasks. But something feels off and I can’t shake it.
“Hunter,” I call out, waving him over. He crosses the room in a few long strides, his eyes narrowing as he leans over my desk. “Look at this,” I say, pointing to a log of Paula’s hours. “She worked late a lot. A hell of a lot. And these searches—at first glance, they’re harmless. Client information, payment histories, nothing major. But look at the dates. The pattern.”
Hunter tilts his head, his gaze sharpening as he studies the screen. “She was pulling harmless info first,” he mutters, “but it escalates. She started digging deeper.”
“Exactly,” I say, flipping through more entries. “Look here. It starts with client names and invoices, then moves into contracts and system schematics. She was siphoning information, slow enough that it wouldn’t set off any alarms.”
Hunter’s finger taps against the screen, stopping on a particular name in the client list. “Wait a second,” he says, his tone shifting. “This client. They backed out of working with us a while ago.”
I frown, scrolling through the details. “You sure?”
“Positive,” Hunter says, his jaw tightening. “They pulled out at the last minute, right when we were about to finalize their security upgrades. It was a big account too. We never figured out why.”
I lean back in my chair, the pieces clicking into place in my mind. “So, who the hell are they working with now?”
Hunter’s lips curl into a grim smile, his eyes dark with something dangerous. “Guess we’re about to find out.”
It’s subtle, but there’s a trail here—a thread that ties Paula to Teplone and whoever else she’s been feeding information to. We just have to keep pulling. And if we find out this other company has been poaching our clients, using our stolen data?
Well, let’s just say they’re about to regret ever crossing the St. Clairs.