Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Romeo Hall, Sanctum
I won’t drag you into the dark with me…
Ambrose’s anguished promise echoes through my mind, as I wander down the wide, carpeted corridor on the second floor of Romeo Hall.
I promised that he wouldn’t…that it didn’t matter because Swan and I have always lived under the moon and stars.
It didn’t help.
Ambrose insisted that I’m the sun, as if that explained everything. Then determinedly, he turned away.
He’s protecting me, I can tell that. I just don’t know what or who from.
His mom? Dimitri and Katerina? The Cinders?
Himself?
I need time alone to think about things, before lunch.
It’s strange that my stomach isn’t rumbling or aching with the hollow, gnawing pain that I’m used to. Vito’s breakfast was so delicious and filling that I could probably last all day on it.
The amazing thing is that I’m not going to need to because he’s promised another feast for lunch.
He’s truly pampering us.
So, why do I feel unwell?
I’m hot, sweaty, and dizzy.
I rub my hand across my forehead.
Perhaps, it’s the stress of the last few weeks catching up with me.
I don’t want to be ill on my first proper Christmas in years. I won’t ruin this for Swan.
Yet I also need to start investigating this Romeo pack for the sake of Mom.
This is where Olivia lives most of the time. It’s no wonder that it’s ostentatious but cold.
Where would she keep the evidence of what she did with Mom?
I’m dressed now in a new outfit that I discovered in my bedroom’s closet.
The entire closet was filled with designer suits, sportswear, and trainers for Swan, as well as dresses, skirts, and even jeans and casual wear for me.
Ambrose has thought of everything.
As it’s a special day, I’ve chosen a violet dress, which is floor length and off the shoulder, with matching panties. It trails behind me like a train. I chose a pair of crystal high heels because they reminded me of my glass slipper necklace, which is still around my neck.
If I had my way, I’d never take my necklace off.
I grab hold of the closest door handle and try to turn it. Then I hiss in frustration.
It’s locked again.
That’s the sixth locked door in a row.
What are the Romeos hiding? How many secrets?
It’s going to take a long time to find out because this mansion is vast, and this is only a single wing of it.
I prowl to the next, high walnut door. I grab the door handle.
Before I can test it, however, the wind drives the snow harder against the high, domed windows that line the corridor. I jump, as they rattle.
The wind picks up even further, howling like a banshee.
Where’s Mom? Where’s Dad? I want them. When are they coming home?
The rising storm throws me back to the memory of another storm long ago, and to the aftermath when just like now, I’d tested doors. When I’d run from room to room throughout the ranch, throwing open every single one in the place, searching for a mom and dad who were gone and could never answer me again.
A pulse of fear makes me clasp my hands over my ears.
I tremble.
All of a sudden, I dread being alone.
I dread that I’ll find evidence that proves Nova isn’t hidden somewhere on this estate, in a secret room beneath the academy, or imprisoned in the Institute.
I dread finding that she’s been sent to the freezing cold of Siberia or somewhere that she’ll also never be able to answer me again.
But what I dread worse is forever not knowing.
I clasp the handle, glaring at it like it’s Olivia.
You’re going to turn, bitch.
I’m matched to your son, I’m here in your house, and I’m not going anywhere.
One, two, three.
On the count of three, I hold my breath and turn the handle.
To my surprise, the door opens.
I shove it fully open, as my shoulders slump in relief. Then I edge into the room.
My eyes widen.
It’s a library.
Except, that doesn’t do it justice. It’s more like some grand Roman library. Marble columns run between stacks of leatherbound books and murals on the wall of ballet dancers from Romeo and Juliet , Swan Lake , and The Nutcracker .
Above the room is a dome of glass. The blizzard rages against it. It makes me feel like I’m trapped inside a snow globe.
Despite my fear of the storm, excitement wells through me, as I edge into the library, between statues of male and female dancers.
They look like Ariana and Remington.
Perfect but cold.
Forever frozen in poses that suit the Romeos.
I scrunch up my nose at the whiff of vanilla, old paper, and ink.
I stare in awe up the spiral staircases that lead to a second level of the library. I haven’t seen so many books (or been able to read anything apart from ballet rulebooks and guides), since high school.
It’s better than stepping into Beauty and the Beast .
My lips quirk.
Ambrose sort of is a beast.
Then I notice a shelf at the back, which holds more modern looking books and give a squeal of delight. I run toward it, skirting the statues, running my finger down the books’ well-worn spines.
Someone has been reading these.
Is it Ambrose?
My eyes sparkle.
They’re sports romance smut, the type where the Alpha jock quarterback falls for the coach’s forbidden Omega daughter…
My smile widens.
He may not understand that Swan and I are his now and aren’t going anywhere. But we’ll show him.
He can act as much like the tough CEO as he likes, but I now know that he secretly reads smut and not the classic, weighty tomes in the rest of the library.
Can I get him to read me some of his highlighted sections?
All of a sudden, I catch a glimpse of movement from the very back of the library, in the middle of the floor.
My pulse speeds up.
I swallow, before creeping closer.
Do the Romeos have a pack dog? A cat?
Fuck, I hope that they don’t have rats.
Well, unless they’re cute pet ones.
Then I stare in wonder at the huge pile of pages, which have been torn out of books and then heaped on the floor like leaves in fall.
The empty books, as if they’re shells without snails in them, have been discarded against the wall in neat piles. The book leaves themselves are old, yellowing, and look surprisingly soft heaped like this.
In fact, they look like a nest.
A nest of paper.
Rustle, rustle, rustle.
Then the leaves part and a pair of forest green eyes gleam out at me.
“You’re not meant to be here.” A man’s educated, English, and honeyed voice declares.
Benedict.
“Apparently, I do that a lot,” I joke.
Benedict scrunches up his nose. “You do. But I like that about you.”
For a moment, he doesn’t emerge further.
I wait expectantly.
Is this something that elite Omegas do? Nest in their posh libraries?
My uncle would’ve kicked my ass, if I’d made a nest anywhere.
Is Ambrose truly okay with this?
Anxious, I watch as Benedict finally emerges in a lazy sprawl, lying now amidst the loose leaves like it’s a bed. The paper covers him but doesn’t hide his modesty… because he’s naked.
I flush.
He’s fucking beautiful like something out of only my hottest fantasies.
How does he manage to pull off suave, while he’s only dressed in the insides of books?
He’s as pale as the paper around him like he belongs in this type of nest. His brunet curls contrast sharply with his skin, as his hair splays around his face.
I struggle not to look below his slim waist, but fuck, I’m just an Omega.
I have strong self-control but not that strong.
A page has been ripped jaggedly in half, which means that his cock is revealed beneath it, pretty and perfect.
I snap my gaze hurriedly back to the strong outline of Benedict’s face.
“It’s not time for lunch yet.” Benedict raps his Rolex. It’s the only thing that he’s wearing apart from his Rej bracelet. “My routine for today was clear. Amby has it written on the chart above our bed.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that this was the library. And I definitely didn’t know that you were undressed. Do you want me to go?” I ask.
Benedict tilts his head in thought. “Why does it matter that I’m undressed? I’ve wanted to see you, since you danced for me with Swan in rehearsals. You were by far the best dancers. You made my skin tingle and my stomach feel strange. I wanted to kiss you both but couldn’t. I wished very much that I could have seen you dance on the stage last night.”
“I do as well. But it’s okay, I can tell you about it.” I glance at him and then away.
“Perhaps, one day I can play for you, while you dance on stage. I don’t know if I could cope with that but for you, I could try. Do you want to come into my nest? I’ve never had another Omega in it but I trust you.”
I purr, instinctively.
He trusts me in his nest.
That’s fucking huge.
It may be one of the most unusual nests ever. But that doesn’t matter. Benedict has built it, and I’m the first Omega who he’s wanted to join him in it.
It means a lot to me.
Except, Benedict doesn’t seem at all self-conscious about the fact that he’s not wearing clothes.
“I’d love that,” I reply. “But do you mind that you’re naked?”
Because I fucking don’t.
I’ve been dreaming about the moment I could be with Benedict naked, since realizing that we were soul mates.
He glances at me out of the side of his eye. “I am. Why don’t you take off your clothes?”
I blink. “You want me to?”
Benedict grips a crumpled page that’s resting over his pretty pink nipple and strokes it over himself with a delighted sigh. “This nest feels amazing on your skin. It’s sensory like rubbing your cheek on velvet or popping bubble wrap. Do you love that too?”
His eyes flutter, luxuriating in his nest. He moves his arms and legs like he’s swimming in water.
Then he opens his eyes. “I’m not lying. I don’t lie. Aren’t you joining me? I wish that I could always be naked.”
“I do too,” I mutter.
Probably, not for the same reasons.
“Really?” Benedict’s look becomes cunning. “Tell our Chief Alpha that. I asked him once if I could always be naked. I don’t like the feel of wearing clothes. Especially not socks, horrible things. If you ask Ambrose, he may say yes. But he’s given me ninety-one rules for outside the house, and fifty-two different ones for inside the house. Normally, I like rules. But I don’t like that none of them allow me to be naked all the time. Perhaps, we can get one added that Omegas shouldn’t wear clothes.”
“Ninety-one rules?” I cross my arms, fuming. “Amby better not think that I’m going to follow his rules.”
“They’re my rules.” Benedict says, fiercely protective. “Ambrose didn’t have any to start with, but I needed them.”
I nod.
As long as they’re to help and not control Benedict, then I won’t kick Ambrose’s ass.
Benedict’s expression becomes more vulnerable. “Don’t you want to join my snuggle pile?”
My expression softens.
Snuggle pile .
No one’s invited me into one before. Omegas should ideally be raised together, or at least, have Omega friends. That way they can learn about their instincts, comfort each other, and make sure that they’re not touch starved though Omega snuggle piles.
I don’t hesitate.
I kneel down and crawl across the crinkling pages to lie next to Benedict in his paper nest. It’s a strange, dry sensation.
Benedict begins to purr, deep and rumbling.
He holds out his arms awkwardly to me.
I realize that this is the first time he’s tried to hold another Omega in his nest. But then, it’s my first time being held.
I enthusiastically launch myself into his arms, purring and nuzzling at his neck.
He’s knocked onto his back.
Dazed, he lies underneath me, as I’m wrapped in his intoxicating scent of honey.
“Isn’t this sacrilege?” I gesture at the grand library and then at the pile of destroyed books. “I mean, to be somewhere like this, then to steal the insides of books for a nest? Couldn’t you be burned at the stake by librarians?”
Benedict looks horrified. “They don’t burn Omegas anymore. The last Omega burning was in 1727. And I don’t steal. Ambrose created this nest for me. He knows that it’s what I’ve been used to since I was a child. I feel all wrong and like there’s this pressure in my head, if I don’t spend some time alone in this nest. Ambrose may be obsessed with sports and his violin, more than he is reading…unless it’s those smut books that he sometimes reads to me before he ruts me…”
My mouth hangs open. Then I smirk.
Ambrose is going to hate that his Omega is telling me his secrets.
This is awesome.
Benedict’s plush mouth curls into a smile. “You feel good against my skin. Better than my nest. I dreamed that you would. This is your nest now too.”
My purr deepens in response, and I lick down Benedict’s sweet tasting scent gland.
I can’t get enough.
But then, I peek up at him, as he tentatively wraps his arms around my shoulders.
His cock has hardened, and I can feel it against my hip.
Then I notice something else that’s peeking out of the nest: the gleaming soft fur and intelligent emerald eyes of a fox stuffie.
“Look,” I point at it, “you told me that you had larger foxes.”
“I’m a bad Omega but I don’t lie,” Benedict replies. I flinch at the bad Omega . He’s an awesome Omega: talented, beautiful, and sweet. How dare anyone teach him differently? “Vito bought him for me. He’s called Foxy.”
I stroke my hand though the toy fox’s soft tail, before brushing my fingers through Benedict’s hair. They’re both so soft that I shiver.
Then I lean to capture Benedict’s lips, and he purrs into the kiss.
When I draw back, I whisper. “I should call you my Foxy . You’re as silky, soft, and sly as one.”
“Sly?” There’s a grin, which is as mischievous as one of Swan’s, lurking on the edges of Benedict’s lips.
“Uh-huh.” I get the definite feeling that I’m right, despite the amount of times that Benedict claims his innocence.
I kiss him again because it feels like a huge fucking privilege that I can.
He kisses me back, as if he feels that he’s the one who’s privileged to be touching me.
There’s more to this Omega than meets the eye.
A lot more.
“You smell delicious.” Benedict rests his forehead against mine but then, his eyes crinkle with concern. “You’re hot.”
“Thank you.”
“Why are you thanking me? Your forehead is too hot. Are you going into heat? Should I get the Alphas?”
Sadness washes over me, before I jangle my Rej bracelet. “I’m wearing this for a reason. I’m a Non-Heat.”
Benedict jangles his back, as if to casually declare twinsies. “So am I. Also, defective. Amby says that the whole academy are his pack. That they’re our family now. So, I no longer cry at night like I used to about not having my own children. We’ve fostered literally hundreds of them in the academy.”
I stare at him.
Is he serious?
Swan and I thought of the kids in the academy in the same way. We looked after and protected them, as if they were our little brothers and sisters.
But why would the billionaire owners foster them? That’s never been the tradition.
“Then why won’t Amby bond with me?” I demand.
“He told me that he’s making sure that the choice is yours. He won’t force anyone, especially from a rival pack. He hasn’t forgotten the feud.”
The choice is mine…?
When has the choice ever been mine?
My heart sinks because of course Ambrose hasn’t forgotten that I’m a Cinders.
I lick my dry lips. “I choose all of you. The Romeos. This pack.”
“Then get to know us. Spend these two weeks, fourteen days, three hundred and thirty six hours, twenty thousand—"
“I get the idea.” I kiss Benedict’s cheek. “I can’t wait, Foxy. But Swan and I danced our asses off to be sure that Amby would bond with us. Amby, however, is going to let this pack be broken apart.”
Benedict’s expression darkens, before he twists me in a sudden move that makes me gasp. Now we’re lying side by side. His gleaming eyes meet mine for a brief moment and then dart away.
It feels like a blessing, every time that Benedict looks at me like that. The effort it takes him makes it more precious.
“Ambrose won’t.” Benedict’s strong jaw clenches. “He’s driven to save people. He saved me.”
I cock my head. “Is that how he got his scar?”
Benedict doesn’t answer.
I steel myself. “Has he said anything to you about my mom? Has he tried to save her ?”
“Ask him.”
I stiffen. “Bec, wouldn’t you be desperate to find your missing mom?”
Benedict flinches.
His honey smell becomes sharp enough to make me gag.
I nuzzle him, trying to comfort him in his distress. He’s shuddering, and his elegant fingers are tapping my back in a rhythm like he’s playing imaginary piano chords to soothe himself.
I drag his head against my shoulder to help him breathe in my pheromones better, and he begins to settle.
“Why would I want to find my Alpha mum? Ambrose spent years waiting until he was close enough to finishing his university degree and Masters in order to rescue me from her.” Benedict’s voice is muffled against my shoulder. “Please don’t send me back. I know that you’re a better Omega than me and the Chief Alpha’s first love, but you and me are soul mates too. It’s your right, but I’ll do anything. Don’t reject me and send me back to England.”
Benedict is panting now and trying to hide that he’s trembling with tears.
He thinks that I’m going to kick him out.
Has he thought that this was a risk all along but he still accepted me?
How fucked up is the system in England? And how much must Benedict love Ambrose that he’d go along with him selecting me, all the time believing that it’d mean being sent back to a family who clearly abused him?
Shocked, I hug Benedict tighter, trying to make it clear in my actions as well as my words that I’m never fucking letting him go. “I’m claiming you as well as Amby. You said it: you’re my soul mate. You’re Swan’s as well, right? Swan would tear out anyone’s throat who tried to take you away from us. He’s seriously protective. So, you’re not going anywhere. This is your home. I’d never ask you to leave it. And we’re equals, you got that?”
Benedict shakes his head. “But you’re not a bad Omega.”
My expression hardens. “Neither are you.”
“Some of the students, who my parents taught, would call me good Omega , just like Ambrose does,” Benedict says like he’s thinking hard. “I was meant to stay in the library out of the way. Rejects should be neither seen nor heard. That library wasn’t like this one. I hated it. Mum had boarded the windows. So, it was dark, musty, and lonely. But it was my room. It’s why I nested there. Sometimes, the students would sneak in and bring me pieces of chocolate. Once, an Alpha asked me lots of questions like why I always flinched. Then she slipped me a phone. I didn’t know how to use it. Mum took it away the next day and Dad beat me, calling me a bad Omega . I didn’t see that student again. But Ambrose was the best of the students. He helped me the most.”
I’m cold with rage.
Rejects should be neither seen nor heard?
That’s how Benedict was treated in England?
“So, your parents were teachers?” I force myself to ask.
“My entire Fox pack were eminent music professors at Oxford university. All of them were Alphas or Betas, apart from me. I was a disappointment,” Benedict says in such a matter-of-fact way that my heart breaks. It’s like he accepts the truth of it without any doubt. Yet he’s a virtuoso. “I’m the first Reject in three generations. My parents took in foreign students as lodgers. Ambrose was one of them. He studied violin and composition. He’s excellent at both.” Benedict smiles, proudly. “But I could only hear him, when I broke the rules and crept onto the stairs to listen. I hate breaking rules but I hated missing him play more.”
“I didn’t know that Amby played violin.”
Benedict perks up. “He’s spellbinding. You should dance, while he plays. It would be beautiful. He composes ballet music as well. He’ll be a brilliant artistic director for the company. The Head Alpha sent him to Oxford to concentrate on those skills and lodge with my family for extra tuition.”
A thought strikes me.
I card my fingers through Benedict’s curls. “Of course, then Amby found you .”
“He discovered me breaking the rules again,” Benedict whispers.
I quirk my brow.
Perhaps, Benedict likes to know the rules but then, is happy to break them when he wants something enough.
My smart, cunning rebel.
“My parents had forbidden me from playing any of the instruments that were around the house.” Benedict’s voice aches with a thousand painful things left unsaid. “Some nights, I couldn’t resist. I’d creep down and forage for food first because often, they forgot to feed me. Then, I’d play the grand piano in the lounge but without pressing down on the keys. After watching my parents and listening for so many years, I could see the music in my head. I knew where my fingers needed to go. It was the same as purring. A part of me. Then Ambrose walked in. He has this skill of understanding without you explaining things. That suits me. Each night after that, he’d cook for me and serve me a meal. Then I’d play a new, silent song for him, and he’d tell me about his day and the world outside my library. It was the happiest that I’d ever been. And he told me that he’d fallen in love with me.”
I stroke down Benedict’s pale cheek, pleased that his scent has returned to a sweet honey, as he talks about Ambrose. “And did you fall in love with Amby?”
Benedict scrunches up his nose. “He was younger than me. Reckless, loud, and dominant. He didn’t care about the danger. But if in love means that I looked forward to seeing him every night and couldn’t imagine a time when I wasn’t with him, then yes, I did. But I never thought that he’d bond with me. I was simply grateful that I’d have some time with this Alpha.”
“Why wouldn’t you think that he’d bond with you?”
Benedict bites his lip, and I worry that he’s going to break the skin. “I was a Reject. He was a billionaire from one of the best families. Plus, I knew that he was already in love with an Omega and a Beta back in his hometown in America.”
“What?” My heart skips a beat.
“The first term that Ambrose was lodging with us, he excitedly showed me a photo that his brother had sent him. It was of a beautiful pair of ballet dancers: a Beta and an Omega. I was entranced. Ambrose simply said: They’re mine . He left it for me. I propped the picture above my nest. It made me feel less lonely over the next four years. You did.”
I hiss out a sharp breath.
Laurent, the sneaky asshole.
He must have secretly taken a picture of Swan and me during practice and sent it to Ambrose in England.
Actually, I’m fucking overjoyed that he did.
Ambrose truly never did forget about us. He loved us back then and even told his new male Omega about us.
The male Omega who looked at our photograph every day for four years to stop himself feeling lonely but still believed that he’d be abandoned because of us.
Yet accepted that for Ambrose’s sake.
Benedict may not understand it but the fact that he was prepared to give up his own happiness for his Alpha’s, proves that he was truly in love in the purest way.
“Ambrose would never abandon you.” I grip hard onto Benedict’s naked shoulders. His skin is silky, although his muscles are hard underneath. “He wanted to share his family and love with you. But that didn’t make you worth any less, Foxy.”
“My parents told me that I was unmatchable .” Benedict leans into my touch, asking for more. I massage his back and am satisfied when he melts, despite the strain in his voice. “They said that no one would ever want me. They swore that if I hit thirty and no one had bonded with me by then, I’d be sent to the Omega House. My next birthday, I will be thirty.”
I don’t want to ask but I have to. “What’s the Omega House?”
Benedict whines. “It’s a place every English Omega fears. If an Omega is too bad, breaks the law, or can’t be matched, then they’re sent to live in the Omega House. They must work from dawn to dusk within its walls, while at night being locked in cages. It’s cruel because they want to ensure families control their Omegas and make every effort to arrange a bond for them.”
I growl, furious. “Fuck that. It’s messed up.”
“Mum bought me a cage that she left in the library to help me practice for when I hit thirty. Ambrose went crazy when he saw me crouched in it. He helped me out and then he dragged the whole thing through the house and hurled it at my parents’ feet. He was growling and snarling, and they were terrified. He backed them against the wall and told them that he was asking me if I wanted to bond and they could fucking fight him, if they intended to stop him. Dad called him a damn Yank who didn’t understand English matching laws and demanded that he pay them for breaking the rules. Ambrose offered to transfer precisely ten million, five hundred thousand and forty dollars as compensation.”
“He bought you?” I hiss.
“Look how much I’m worth.” When Benedict preens, I realize why Ambrose did it.
For an Omega who was taught that just because he was a Rej about to hit thirty he was worthless and deserved to be thrown away to an Omega House, paying millions was the best therapy in the world.
“So, you said yes.” I grin.
Benedict returns it. “I kissed Ambrose so hard that he was breathless. Then I begged him to take me to a hotel or anywhere but my parent’s house to bond me. I wanted to see the sky. To be free of that cage. And he did. He took me to this incredible place with a jacuzzi, fluffy blankets, and all these sex toys. I didn’t know that they made toys for sex. I like them. We have a whole chest of them in our bedroom. Knotted ones, vibrating ones, ones that pulse or have beads that you put up your—”
I stop Benedict’s list, which I suspect may go on for minutes, with a kiss that leaves him breathless.
It’s unexpectedly hot to hear Benedict casually talk about sex toys in his educated English voice.
I also can’t wait to explore that chest and try some of those knotted ones out on him.
Possibly, the vibrating ones on Ambrose’s cock.
I know that Swan will want to slowly insert some of those beads into Vito’s arse and then order him to bake for him — while wearing nothing but an apron.
I redden at the thought, at the same time as I become wet.
A wave of heat hits me.
Why is it so hot in here?
I wriggle my panties off, kicking some book leaves out of the way as I do like paper rain. “Were any of those toys like pussies?”
Benedict shakes his head. “I’ve always wondered what a pussy would be like. I crave to make you feel good, my soul mate. But I don’t know how. I don’t want to be a disappointment.”
A disappointment.
I growl, surprising myself how feral I sound, as I grab Benedict by his curls and shove him onto his back.
Benedict stares up at me with wide eyes.
“You couldn’t disappointment me.” I straddle his waist. “You’re perfect just as you are. You’re strong because you’ve survived. You were caged but you’re not free because of Ambrose. You need to believe it yourself first. We can help each other believe it. How about right now, I teach you how to make me feel good, while you jerk off? We both get pleasure at the same time. Do you want that, good Omega?”
Benedict shivers on the good Omega . His dick twitches underneath me.
I’m going to call him good Omega as often as I can.
“I excel at following instructions,” Benedict says with both an edge of pride and challenge. “Show me how to please you. Will you let me taste you?”
I drop my mouth to his, letting my lips graze him on each word, “Stay still on your back, Foxy. That’s it. Now slide that elegant hand of yours that makes such beautiful music to your cock and show me how you touch yourself.”
Benedict blushes but he obeys me. “Like this?”
I glance over my shoulder to watch, as Benedict lightly clasps his cock, stroking it up and down with a twist, before thumbing over the head. His chest is rapidly rising and falling.
“Is that how you like it best?” I ask.
“I don’t often do this. I was forbidden to in England.”
I clench my hands for a moment, before puffing out a breath.
The assholes.
“Well, you can here. Amby’s told you that, right?” I check.
Benedict nods. “It’s just new to me.”
“Then freedom is getting used to reclaiming your own body too. You can touch anywhere you like.”
Benedict’s smile is the one that’s laced with cunning, which I’m learning to love. “Can I touch here?”
His free hand hovers over my clothed breast.
I smirk. “Fuck, yeah.”
Benedict gently traces over my left breast. His brow furrows with concentration, as he explores the outline, thumbing over my nipple with a skill that’s innate.
He looks delighted, when I whimper.
His touch feels amazing through the silk.
Benedict speeds up his stroking of his cock, bursting into a deep purr, which sends vibrations through me.
I hiss out, stimulated almost to orgasm already.
Benedict’s touch is electric. His scent is heady. And his purr calls to my soul.
I purr in turn, feeling fevered.
“You wanted to taste me.” I kiss down Benedict’s jaw. “Then I’m going to ride your pretty face and make your lips wet with slick.”
He whines, high and desperate. His eyes are glassy. I push myself up, until my pussy is over his head.
“ Red means stop, yellow is slowdown, and green means keep going, you’re okay.” I don’t know if Ambrose has taught Benedict these rules, but since he likes rules in particular, they will be useful for him. Silvanus was responsible enough to teach me about safewords and the traffic light system. Since Benedict and I are new to playing with each other, it’s important that we use them. “Since your tongue will be busy, tap my thigh once for yellow and twice for red . Are you green?”
“I’m green,” Benedict replies. “I like this game. Green, green, very much green.”
He tilts his head, and a curl falls across his eye.
“Good Omega.” I push the curl out of his eye. “Because now I’m going to grind down on you. All you’re going to be able to taste or breathe will be my pussy. It’ll be your world.”
Before Benedict can reply, I sit on his face.
Immediately, his hand reaches to steady me at the hip.
A wave of primal power washes over me. I’m shaken by how strong it is.
I’m on top of my male Omega about to take my pleasure from him, and I’m controlling when he breathes.
At the same time, he’s jerking himself off, claiming back his own body as well.
Benedict is quivering with tension.
“Don’t slow down. Keep stroking yourself,” I order.
I rock slowly backward and forward.
Benedict is purring. The vibrations against my pussy and clit feel incredible. I tease over my own nipples, using Benedict like a beautiful Omega shaped toy to find my pleasure.
Then I lean forward to grip him by the hair, directing him where I want him.
Benedict’s green eyes look up at me.
“Use your tongue,” I direct him, “lick my pussy and suck the clit. Work hard. Don’t stop. Push your tongue deeper. F-f-fuck, that’s it.”
He’s as dedicated, as if I’m training him in dance moves.
I decide to see just how committed he is.
“Make yourself come before me. If you don’t…” Am I really going to say this? “…then you won’t get to come until Boxing Day.”
For a moment, Benedict stiffens in shock.
I pull away from his mouth for a moment, caressing his cheek.
I’d never stop him coming, if he wants to. This is only a game.
Benedict’s mouth glistens with slick. His hair is a tangled mess.
He looks beautiful.
“Still green?” I check in.
“Green,” Benedict replies, taking quick breaths. “I will come before you, my soul mate.”
“I should have known that you’d be a perfectionist.” I grin, riding his face again, before he can reply.
He’s stroking his cock even faster.
I rock my hips.
Then I throw my head back.
The power is an aphrodisiac. So is the challenge between Omegas. I don’t know who I want to win.
I sink my hands into Benedict’s hair, pulling and tugging. I wrench hard, moving him where I want him.
I flush with heat. I’ve never felt anything like this.
When Benedict’s tongue flicks across my pussy and then up to my clit, I wail.
Benedict licks more fervently, a worshiper between my thighs
He’s a quick learner.
It’s perfect… too much …perfect.
I let him up for a breath, before changing the angle. “Keep tasting me, my Foxy. Don’t stop.”
Benedict works hard, kissing and massaging my clit.
Then I grind down against him. “Widen your sweet tongue. Thrust it into me…shit, like that. Deeper. Again .”
Pleasure coils through me, higher and higher.
Benedict is thrashing side to side underneath me, scattering his nest. He’s snarling as much as he’s purring.
He looks moments from coming.
But then, so am I.
A wave of heat hits me.
Feverish, I shove the hair out of my eyes. What the hell is wrong with me?
I’m too lost in the intensity of this moment to stop now.
“You’re being so good for me,” I whisper. “My perfect soul mate.” And then because winning this contest had always meant allowing my competitor to win, I add, “ come for me .”
Beneath me, Benedict shudders and howls. By the way that his back bows and his hand stills, he’s coming.
But he doesn’t stop licking, sucking, and pleasing me.
The combination that he’s still hyperfocused on my pleasure, along with the vibrations of his howl on my pussy, pushes me over the edge as well.
And just like that, I’m flying apart.
I scream as I come. “Bec…”
Unexpectedly, I begin to shake. A wave of fever hits me that’s stronger than before.
Whimpering, I fall to the side onto the rustling paper, curling into a ball.
“What did I do wrong?” Benedict sits up, panicked. He rests the back of his hand on my forehead. “You’re even hotter. Is this meant to happen? Did I break you?”
I shake my head, reaching up to clasp his wrist.
“You were perfect.” My throat is hoarse. It’s painful to force out the words, but I’m going to. “It was incredible. I don’t know…”
Something’s wrong.
A fever is ripping through my body.
This can’t be happening, right?
I’m a Non-Heat.
But this doesn’t feel like a reaction to stress or the flu.
Then despite just having come, my pussy gushes with wetness, and I know that it is happening.
Here on Christmas Day with Ambrose insisting that this is a fake bond and not admitting that Vito is part of the pack.
My first heat is unexpectedly here.
Fuck, no.
My eyes flutter closed.
My vision blurs to gray.
“Juliet.” Benedict wraps his arms around me. “Juliet.”
Then my head lolls back, and there’s nothing but darkness.