Chapter 42
chapter
forty-two
Being on Tristan Thorne’s arm is… an experience .
This shopping trip is our first outing one-on-one. Only, not really, because a small troupe of security guards moves in front of us before we even get out of his limo-like Bentley. Tristan doesn’t seem annoyed, though. He simply slips out of the car and helps me out, then steps a respectable distance away.
I’m not sure how to feel about that. Ever since biting me, he’s always maintained some distance between us. Before, I thought he did it because of his own re gret.
But after what just happened in the car—is it possible he really has just been giving me space?
And do I actually find that devastatingly romantic, or is this just my crazy hormones talking?
Because damn . They are insane.
I’m insane.
Tristan’s brow lowers as he watches me fuss with the skirt of my dress. I wanted to look nice going out with him, since there’s always a chance he’ll be photographed—but the slinky, asymmetrical black dress feels wrong now.
I’m worried it’s cut too high. And maybe my hair is too big, and I probably look stupid in these designer sunglasses?—
“Serena.”
I stop fidgeting, doing my best to settle into a blank mask. “Mm?”
Tristan’s frown deepens. “Are you all right?”
I keep my features smooth for any hidden cameras. “It’s nothing. Just my Omega being a bitch.”
Well, shit. So much for acting sophisticated for the senator.
Surprise quirks his features for a second before he flashes an unexpected smile. “Tell me if she gets out of hand. My Alpha might know a few tricks to get her under control.”
Double shit .
Now I’m perfuming. Out here, in public, with people around who will know I’m his omega, and I can’t control myself, and?—
Silly little slut .
I tilt my face down and open my mouth to apologize, but Tristan steps smoothly in front of me. With his back to the world.
He reaches for my cheek, cupping it gently. “Dr. Monroe told you this is all perfectly normal. It’s healthy for an omega your age who has never been on suppressants. And your heat is coming up. There’s nothing for you to be ashamed of.”
I’ve given up trying to figure out how he always knows what I’m feeling when I can never quite read him. At the moment, I’m just grateful he understands .
I slip my sunglasses over my eyes and nod, hating that the motion trembles.
His handsome features always look so much hotter, somehow, when he’s broody. We haven’t spent any time alone together, but I’ve started to see that, of all the alphas in the Thorne Pack, their leader is actually the quietest. He only speaks when he really has something to say; and he listens .
The scowl on his chiseled lips quirks tighter as he reads my expression, ocean eyes slowly moving over every part of me. “I could scent-mark you,” he offers, dropping his voice low. “Would that help?”
Shivers of arousal quiver in my core as slick soaks into the special extra-absorbent panties I’m wearing. Spence got them for me to wear; surprisingly, he’s been the most obsessively possessive about making sure others only smell me on him.
Or on his desk. Or his chair. Or his bed?—
“Serena?”
I blink out of my horny haze, thankful for the cover of my dark lenses. “Sorry. Um. Sure? If you think that would help.”
His smile is warm and masculine. Knowing but kind. It reminds me of the way he was when he tended his claiming mark—so proficient and confident yet utterly gentle with me, even when he was on the edge.
“I think it might.”
I hold my breath as he leans over me, bending to graze his mouth across his bond mark before rubbing his cheek against it. My pussy gives a warm, wet squeeze, clamping on nothing.
When more perfume pours off me, Tristan…
Purrs .
His silken, rolling rumble sinks through his suit and my dress, past the lacy black bra cupping my tits. Everything inside of me gels, melting and smoothing and aching .
A large hand cups the back of my head, stroking tenderly when I sway into the hard muscles of his pecs. “Shhh,” he murmurs, “You’re okay, sweet baby. I’m here. ”
His fingers sift through my hair, finding his claim to stroke it softly. “Would I ever let you hurt?” he asks, flexing a wave of calm dominance.
He never has. Even on that first horrible night, when it seemed like he wanted to get as far away from me as possible… he didn’t. He stayed in the room the whole time Dr. Monroe examined me. He loomed in the hallway while I met the guys. And he tended his bite with perfect thoroughness.
Shh, sweet baby.
He said it then, too.
I like it even more now.
My Omega turns out to be even more unhinged than I previously thought.
The articles Spencer provided to help prep me for my pre-heat symptoms as a semi-bonded omega mentioned a lot of what I’m experiencing. Shakiness, the constant urge to whine.
It did not, however, warn me about the whole wanting-to-claw-other-women’s-eyes-out thing.
Maybe that’s just a “me” problem?
Either way, it’s a definite issue. Especially since this fancy store has only female employees—and they’re all over Tristan.
While they simper and giggle, he keeps a handsome smile on his face. Ordinarily, the fact that I now know him well enough to know it isn’t his true grin—but some vacant, polished politician version—would help.
Not today, apparently.
The silent sense inside of me whines and nudges. Desperate for me to claim him. Yank him away. Rip his pants off and climb him.
An-y-thin g .
But I just keep sifting through the racks, looking for something sexy to wear to Jonah’s pre-season game… and maybe Avery’s first big fight in a couple of weeks. Most of the ones I like are in my pack’s signature black—short and close cut, with metallic accents or glittering beadwork.
Jonah will love being able to see so much of my legs , I think, distracting myself as the shop girls giggle some more.
I almost smile at the thought of my big man. Having finally mastered basic cooking, gardening, and swimming, he’s now firmly determined to teach me to drive. So far, I’ve backed his Bronco in and out of the garage about eighty times, but still. He’s so sweet to me.
Not for the first time, I wish I could reach out to him internally. He’s become my safe place inside the pack house and—usually—out in the world. I wonder what he would say if he knew I’d thought about giving him a place inside of me, too.
Probably something dirty.
Followed by something devastatingly beautiful.
I find three dresses that seem like good options and glance at Tristan to tell him. When I find him making small talk with a gorgeous blonde pixie of a saleswoman, my stomach sinks.
His Serena Radar must ping because he instantly snaps his gaze across the room. “Ready, sweet one?”
Ooh . Why do I like that he called me that? In front of her . Them .
Either way, a bit of the tension crowding my lungs evaporates. “I think so. Can I try these on?”
By the time I’m ensconced in one of the plush, cream-colored fitting rooms, my mood has edged past insecure and into a more Avery-like headspace. Every time one of the girls hanging around Tris laughs, I want to scream.
My shoulders hike higher and higher each time I flinch. Until Tristan’s deep voice cuts in.
“Excuse me, ladies. My mate needs me.”
Did I imagine the subtle emphasis on that one word ?
Maybe that’s just how he says it. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him call me that before.
Before I can process the soup of feelings swirling in my stomach, a quiet knock hits my door. I don’t answer, but it cracks open anyway.
Gusting out a weary sigh, Tristan steps into the plush changing room and shoots a glare at the door. “Endlessly irritating,” he mutters, more to himself than me.
Another word starts to form on his lips, but he turns to face me. And freezes.
A growl whips out of him, so deep and quick, I know it was beyond his control. I clutch at my boobs, holding up the open bodice of the shiny onyx minidress draped around me. Not that hoisting it into place does much—the cups at the front have a sweetheart neckline with a deep slit between them.
“ Serena ,” he snarls, ocean eyes flashing urgently. “Dear God .”
I’m not melting at the moment—in fact, I’m cold and a little worried about the manic look on his face. Not to mention the way his summery scent has already filled this entire room.
“ Turn around .”
Tristan never— never —barks at me. Not since the night we met. Part of me gets even more worried when I hear it. I know he wouldn’t have done that if he had the ability to stop himself. And the other part of me…
Or, really, my Omega…
Well.
I instantly turn around, but it’s too late. Pi?a colada perfume swells into his, drowning the room in our pheromones. A quiet whine vibrates in my throat when I inhale the mixture.
“Shh,” he hushes, stepping up against my back and peering over my shoulder at the mirror we’re both facing. “ Look .”
The couple standing across from us is beautiful. A tailored, statuesque alpha in silver-gray. And… me .
Could that really be me? My hair isn’t limp and over-styled anymore. I don’t look weak or frail. My skin glows golden brown, comple menting the lustrous tresses draped over my shoulder and the even shinier dress.
The only thing wrong with our reflection is Tristan’s face. It’s wild. Almost… pained?
He steps back slightly and drops his focus to my naked back. I think he’s about to zip the dress up, but instead, he reaches inside it and skims two warm palms over my bare waist. I watch his eyes squeeze shut in the mirror.
“I—” he stammers, hoarse. “I need a moment to touch you. Please. Can I?—”
There’s no use even trying to pretend I don’t like that idea. My scent brightens, and he groans quietly, dropping his forehead to my shoulder while his touch glides further down my body.
Instead of giving him a verbal reply, I tilt my neck to the side, exposing his bite. He moans again, diving for it. Latching on like it’s the only way for him to survive his next breath.
His thick, hot tongue swirls over the silvery scars. Another grumbling groan skitters across my sensitized skin. My nipples pebble against the fabric grazing them, and I stab another whine before it escapes.
Tristan must feel it, though, because while one of his hands skates lower, the other slips up to graze the underside of my breast. He pauses there, blue eyes snapping back to mine in the mirror.
Asking permission.
Later, I can blame my hormones. My Omega. My upcoming heat.
Because it can’t be me wanting this. Craving the touch of this alpha who has never wanted me.
Never liked me. Never thought I was good enough but bit me anyway .
Bonded me anyway, and now—now?—
I nod.
Heat strikes his gaze. Lightning on a storm-tossed sea. He palms my right breast but doesn’t touch the hardened point. The hand h overing on the lower curve of my belly stretches just a bit—until his middle fingertip brushes the very top of my slit.
I’m appallingly wet. So soaked that one slight flick of his wrist, rubbing one of my pussy lips into the other, makes an obscene sound. He covers it by sucking on my neck.
I start to moan, but his fingertips clamp around my nipple at the same second his teeth scrape my skin. “Hush, baby,” he whispers. “They’re not allowed to hear you come. Only me.”
I choke on a squeal, and he rumbles his approval, a growly purr roaring to life against my bare spine. “The others might like flaunting you. Showing that you’re theirs with your screams and your marks. But not me, omega.”
Before his words can sink in enough to hurt, he groans again, slipping his soaked finger between my folds. “ You’re going to possess me . Everywhere I go, I’ll smell like your sweet slick. And everyone will know that I belong to you .”
Pain and pleasure squeeze my lungs, vaporizing my voice. “ Tristan …”
His eyes fall shut while he strokes up to my clit, rolling his fingertip around it in a firm circle. When I buck and fight another cry, he exhales shakily. “God, there you are. So fucking perfect, aren’t you, sweet baby girl?”
I whimper, instinctually nuzzling my face against the side of his. He catches the motion and releases his bond mark, turning to put his lips in my reach.
“ Kiss me .”
It only just manages not to register as a bark. The command is there, but so is pure, raw pleading.
My eyes fly to our reflection, seeing the way his have closed. The way his chest heaves. And I realize—I have power over him now.
“No,” I breathe. “You can’t kiss me.”
Yet .
Those fierce eyes snap open, pinning me. “Then I’ll just make you come all over my fingers. ”
Tristan Thorne keeps his word. By the time I’m done gushing all over his hand, I’m sure the fact that he bit me every time I even squeaked is meaningless.
I have no doubt all those smug bitches heard us.
Good .
Without an ounce of shame, Tristan takes his slick fingers and dabs them at the base of his throat like he’s applying cologne. When he sees my gape, he flashes a cocky smile.
“I warned you.”
He did, but it doesn’t make me any less dazed. What is happening ? Does he just want me because he’s tired of resisting my scent and my body? Or is there something else, blooming between us?
Do I care?
Yeah, unfortunately, I think I do. Maybe I wouldn’t have a month ago. I would have taken any scrap of respect or affection and been damn grateful for it.
But these alphas have told me, again and again, how precious I am. How good and sweet and smart and worthy.
A queen.
Their queen .
And I want more than scraps.
“I think we should buy this dress,” I mumble, unsettled, “since it’s basically soaked in perfume.”
He nods, every inch the commanding senator once again. No trace of the desperate man who needed me in order to breathe.
“We will,” he says. “We’ll buy all of them.”
He pulls out his wallet and extracts a credit card, flashing me a look that could almost be described as teasing. “I’ll let you deal with the ladies out there while I get the car.”
I’m suddenly so pissed. How dare he just… seduce me like that? With his need instead of his charm. And so easily !
No fair.
My eyes narrow at him, spoiling for a fight. “I don’t need three dresses, Senator . ”
“I don’t care,” he shrugs. “You’re getting them.”
I snort, tossing my hair back and cocking my hip. “You gonna make me?”
Tristan strikes like a cobra. Sweeping me into the wall and stretching his arm over my head, boxing me in with his perfect scent and the hard body under his suit.
His face drops, looming inches above mine. A dark brow lifts.
“I bit you,” he roughs out, the low words sinking straight between my hips, sparks shivering over the embers of the blaze he just extinguished. “Sunk my teeth into your perfect little throat without even asking .”
Slick slips into my panties the same second I catch myself nearly panting. Clearly, something is deeply wrong with me. Because, for one insane moment, all I can think is…
Yes. Again. More.
A small smile quirks the side of his sculpted mouth. He holds up the black AmEx again. “Take the damn card and buy the damn dresses.”