Chapter Seven #3
An animalistic noise tore out of my throat as I stood and marched out of my office.
Who’d gone in there? Who else had witnessed him in that state, naked and writhing?
I ignored the curious looks from my sentinels as I stormed through the halls, following the thick nectar.
They wouldn’t dare question my movements, and though they were betas, they knew better than to stop a rampaging Alpha on the warpath.
I ascended the stairs two at a time, striding through the hallways and rounding the corner to his bedroom. Brian, his escort, was hovering by his door, a bottle of water gripped in one hand as the other curled around the door handle.
I saw red.
The beta was pinned to the wall before I even registered my movement—or he did, judging by the startled terror on his face.
“Boss . . . forgive me. I was just— I felt bad for him. I wasn’t going to touch him, I swear.
I never would. He was crying, so I offered him one of your shirts to see if it soothed him, and I noticed he’d drunk all his water from yesterday, so I was bringing him more. That’s all. I only wanted to help.”
I studied his eyes. He wasn’t lying. He was an honourable man. It was why I’d trusted him to shadow Dylan. He would never lay a finger on him, even if he begged for it. Still, I was irritated at how easily he’d been able to wander in and I hadn’t noticed.
And he’d seen the omega in that . . . condition.
I leaned in, my tongue forming a growl without my perception. “Mine.”
He bared his throat in submission, and I dropped his lapels.
Before he could scurry off to the end of the corridor, back to his post, I seized the bottle from his hand. I was going to leave it there, had every intention of walking back to my office and carrying on as we were, but Dylan moaned, and my body wouldn’t move an inch.
I stood there, listening, my cock hard and eager to breed. I breathed heavily through my nose, willing myself to calm the fuck down. I hadn’t smelled that scent in two years. It was just as fucking intoxicating. I clenched my fist around the bottle.
Once again I was left humouring the whims of a fucking omega.
I shouldn’t have brought him here, but it was too late.
I could give him pheromones from the source, ease his pain a fraction and ensure he was hydrated.
His constitution was weak from not eating or sleeping, and he was experiencing a heat while his child was missing.
He was miserable, without relief, and it would carry on for another day or so before it dissipated.
Unsatisfied. Exhausted. He’d be worse for wear.
I understood the feeling.
My scent wouldn’t be enough.
He had my shirt, and I could still hear the anguish in his whines.
I was the father of his child, he would already recognise me as the perfect choice for a mate.
That would’ve been the trigger—he was surrounded by my scent in this house, and his body would know he was safe.
Though it would also register I wasn’t there, that the Alpha responsible was rejecting him, and he wouldn’t find an ounce of respite.
Fucking instincts.
If he were anywhere else, it might have been different.
He wouldn’t have craved what wasn’t there.
The timing couldn’t be worse, but it was the curse of biology, and the only solution now was to aid him through it quickly.
I should have done it sooner, gotten it out of the way so I could concentrate on what was important, but even though I’d known it’d last days, I hadn’t anticipated there’d be so much pain.
Or for his scent to stray and divert me beyond reason.
I needed my attention to be fixed solely on the objective, which couldn’t happen while he was in heat. He needed a knot to finally break through it. It was the only way, or he’d continue to suffer, and I would never get back to work.
Dylan made a choked sound in his throat, the sound he released when he came. It was followed by a frustrated and frantic mewl. The orgasm had done nothing.
I steeled myself and walked inside.
He lay on his front on the bed, the sheets in disarray around him, his nest more of a junk heap than an inviting fort.
He didn’t notice me closing and locking the door.
He shook and sobbed, his hips mindlessly churning against the sheets once more, seeking pleasure and gratification that wouldn’t come until he was stuffed full.
The motions stopped when I was three steps from the bed.
He bolted upright, hugging the sheet to his chest, covering his naked form. I’d already seen it. From every angle. “Don’t touch me,” he snapped, his grip tightening in the fabric protectively. I stayed in place. “Get the fuck out. I don’t want you!”
“Your body does,” I stated. “You’ll be at this for days if I don’t help you.”
“I don’t care, fuck off.” He launched a pillow at my head. It missed. “I don’t need a pity fuck.”
I raised an eyebrow. “It’s nothing of the sort. You see, I can’t concentrate on the task at hand with you whining and begging to be filled.”
“Then don’t listen.” Without letting go of his practically transparent barrier, he rose higher on his knees and squared his shoulders. He was posturing, trying to intimidate me. My cock throbbed. “I can get through this on my own.”
“I have no doubt,” I said flatly. “But it will be another day, at least, and you’ll find no relief unless you behave and give your body what it wants.”
He sneered at me, and a breath puffed from my nose.
“Do you think I have nothing better to do than pander to a needy omega? I left well enough alone because I have no interest in obeying instinct, but I can’t find Minseo while you’re in heat.
” His expression softened at the mention of his young.
“Besides, you’ll need your strength. Carrying on like this will be counterproductive. ”
He said nothing, considering, but then another wave coursed through him and he collapsed onto the bed, back arching, groaning in agony.
I hadn’t paid much attention before, but his tits were swollen with the absence of a child to empty them, his nipples leaking droplets of milk.
I averted my gaze before I did something reckless.
Like dive onto the bed and latch on.
“It hurts,” he cried.
My hand clenched into a fist at my side. “I know.”
“Why is this happening now?” he asked rhetorically, his voice wavering. “I—my stupid body. Where is my baby? I need my baby.”
“Don’t think about that now,” I hushed him. He had to focus on tackling his heat or he would end up getting ill. “I’ll have her back with you soon.”
He peered up at me, eyes filled with sadness, and a little hope. “Promise?”
“Yes.”
It was subtle, but he visibly preened, as if the omegan impulse coursing through him saw me as his saviour. I stepped closer, but he tensed before wriggling away.
His glare was back in force.
I stopped, sighing internally.
We didn’t have time for this, but he wasn’t going to relent, not willingly at least, and I had no desire to force myself on him. He could hate me all he wanted for my other indiscretions, but not for that. That was a line I would never cross.
I had to figure out an alternative.
Glancing at the wardrobe, an idea clicked. It likely wouldn’t work, but if I stayed here, saturating the room in my scent, it might be enough to at least calm the worst of the symptoms. I tossed the water bottle onto the bed. “Drink it.”
He was wary, but he obeyed, gulping it down as if he was dying of thirst.
I didn’t watch it dribble over his chin.
I took a chair from under the desk in the corner and sat down facing the bed, unbuttoning my shirt. It was stifling in here. “In the wardrobe, there’s a box of toys.” I nodded towards it. I had them put there before he arrived, just in case. “Grab them.”
“Fuck you.”
“I’m holding on by a thread,” I warned. “Do as I say, and I won’t touch you.”
He eyed me for a moment, seemingly content with what he saw—or clever enough not to argue—as he didn’t protest again.
He swayed unsteadily on his feet, making his way over to the wardrobe on his tiptoes.
Slick coated his inner thighs, and I had to bite my tongue until it bled when he bent down to gather the box.
He returned to his spot in the middle of the blanket pile and lifted the lid, his eyes widening. Without the covers draped over him, I noticed the scar across his lower belly. The surgical scar from the birth of his child. Our child.
I gripped the chair arm. “Good boy. Take out the box at the bottom.”
He did, shoving the rest of the toys aside as he opened the one he’d picked out.
He swallowed thickly, but his breath whipped out unsteadily as if he was hungry for it.
It was a knotting dildo. Looked like a normal cock, about my size, until the button on the remote was pressed to inflate the base. It would do.
For now.
“You’re going to lie on your back, spread your legs, and fuck yourself until you come. Can you do that?”
He glanced over at me, licking his lips as if uncertain. There was still a speck of defiance in him, as if he wanted to refuse, to keep denying me, denying himself, but he tensed again. A noise similar to a whimper came from his throat, and I noticed his belly cramping.
Another wave.
Without verbal agreement, he lay down, parted his thighs, and notched the tip at his sopping hole. There was nothing I couldn’t see from this position. That was his intention, as he made eye contact and slipped the toy inside.
His jaw dropped, an expression of pleasure slackening his features as he buried it right to the hilt. His head fell back onto the pillow, a sigh echoing in his mouth as he let himself bask in the feeling of finally being full.
The toy bobbed as though he’d clenched and unclenched around it. My mouth watered, my tongue itching to lick his stretched rim, so pink and slick, and gather up every drop. I jerked my head.
“Get on with it.”