Chapter 15 – Shiloh
Chapter Fifteen
Shiloh
S preading our notes on the coffee table, Zale sits on the sofa while I’m cross-legged on the plush rug using the coffee table like a desk. Every now and again I can feel his breath on the back of my neck, and it’s a refreshing welcome, a coolness brushing over my tender flesh.
I’m surprised he brought work with him this weekend, but maybe he thought he could get it done before Millie arrived. If we don’t pass this with a high mark, I’m going to stage a protest outside our professors’ office.
Especially after the strange, emotionally heavy conversations we’ve been having this afternoon. I don’t want to get to know Zale better. I don’t want to pity him, or soften my resolve towards him. He is my sister’s boyfriend, a fact I have to keep replaying in my head like some ritualistic chant.
He’s not mine.
He’s not mine.
He’s not mine.
I don’t think I ever considered that he might be struggling with the pressure from his parents and there’s clearly some sort of story behind him going into the family business after graduation, but he’s keeping tight-lipped about that.
I wonder if Millie knows about all the troubles weighing on his mind? Or that he’s one strong gust of wind from buckling under the weight of all the expectations placed on him.
Being a wallflower was supposed to make my life easier, by hiding in the shadows made it easier to live with other people's demands and assumptions. Did it stop them from making their assumptions to begin with? No. But it meant I could shrug them off and carry on with my life. I didn’t realize that Zale was out here, trying to hide in plain sight of everyone, letting everything drag him down deeper into the mud.
No , I chastise myself with a firm head shake. Stop feeling sorry for him. Stop letting him wear you down.
After working on our papers for a while, we eventually stopped for some dinner. It’s only a simple pasta dish using up the leftover chicken, but like lunch, we make it together.
The strange little domestic routine of preparing and cooking dinner together would be all too easy to slip into with him and I can’t allow myself that. So, when he offers to wash the dishes while I dry, I refuse and do them by myself.
After food, we work on finalizing the last pieces of the project paper, critiquing each other’s draft evaluations and email everything across to Zo. With their seal of approval, it can actually be submitted almost four weeks early. I’m not sure I’ve ever submitted anything that early before in my life.
It isn’t until we’re sitting there, just talking about the bibliography and we’re plunged into darkness that I realize the sun went down a while ago. I’m surprised at how quickly the afternoon passed, given the humiliating start to the day. I thought it would’ve been more difficult and I’d be watching the clock, praying for a reprieve, but being around Zale is getting easier and easier for some reason. Maybe it’s because he actually let me peek inside his walls, and see another side to the alpha.
Those little confessions woven into our conversations this afternoon make it harder and harder for me to hate him. Not that I ever really did. Do I resent him for being a passive participant in how others treated me? Yes. That’s not really a good excuse for turning a blind eye.
But for him, he feels helpless and not just when it comes to me, clearly. From what he said about working for his family, and how everyone must think he has an easy life, he obviously feels helpless about his own life and for that, I pity him.
With the lights out, Zale shifts closer, using his phone together with the dim glow of the fading fire to help me find mine. It wasn’t unusual to experience power cuts out here and they were usually fixed pretty quick.
Pulling up the number for the property manager, I watch as Zale adds more logs to the fire to build it back up. Once again, my eyes are drawn to his broad back and muscular ass. His thick jean clad thighs look sturdy, and I briefly find myself wondering how many daily squats it takes to get a body like that.
The property manager is quick to answer, letting me know that power in the area has gone out with the passing storm, but they’re positive they can get it fixed in the morning.
“What did they say?” Zale asks as I get to my feet and stretch.
“So, it’s a storm issue and it won’t be fixed until the morning.” I give him a small shrug, there’s nothing else we can really do.
He nods, standing closer to me than I’m entirely comfortable with, despite the day we've spent together. He clearly has issues with personal space and boundaries. “What’s the plan for the rest of the evening?”
Crossing my arms, I shot him a look, “We should go to bed, take a look in the morning.”
He hesitates, hand running through his hair again and I’m beginning to realize it's a nervous trait. “Uh…”
I close my laptop down and gather up all the paperwork with a soft snort, “You scared of the dark, Zale? A big strong Alpha like you?”
I can’t tell in the orange glow of the fire, but something about his expression makes me think he’s blushing as he shoves both hands in his pockets, which forces the edges of his jeans lower.
Get a grip Shiloh, I remind myself. You’re not that desperate. Not yours, remember?
“Can we not just stay in the living room for tonight? Like a slumber party?”
“Are you serious?” I can’t help the way my eyebrows lift. He’s a paradox. The big bad alpha was afraid of being alone? In the dark? Wasn’t I learning all sorts of delicious things today?
It seems that maybe Zale Blackwood isn’t as cool and nonchalant as he’d have everyone believe. “Fine.”
I have no idea why I keep giving into him, he was the one who said I wasn’t worth the effort and yet here he is asking things of me. All I want is to be disgusting, and dirty in my own sheets until this preheat phase passes. This horrible, sticky, uncomfortable feeling won’t pass until I go into full blown heat. It’s a strange spike in my hormones that will wax and wane, driving me insane with need and restlessness until it can be fucked out of my system. At least the pills are masking it still, they must be since Zale hasn’t mentioned anything about my being an omega. That tells me that despite being in close quarters all day, he’s still clueless.
With a soft sigh, I grab the emergency torch and a lantern from under the kitchen sink before handing them to him. “Here. Take one of these and go find where my parents have stashed the booze for this weekend while I grab some candles and quilts.”
If we’re going to be camping out here, I was going to need to be drunk, stoned or sleeping. Otherwise, I might do something reckless, like stab him with my pen or ask him to keep breathing on me to cool me down. It really could go either way.
When I’m pulling my quilt off the bed, I knock my backpack onto the floor with a clatter. Zale’s voice calls up to see if I’m okay, but I tell him to stop worrying as I quickly shove the contents back inside. My hand touches something, and I instantly smile. Bell, you beautiful omega. I decided to quickly change into my pajama shorts and an oversized T-shirt, since I was having hot flushes. Checking my band-aid is still firmly in place, I try not to look too closely at my reflection in the mirror.
With the blankets and pillows under my arm, I stride into the lounge holding my hand up as if I have a trophy. “Look what I found!”
“You ‘found’ it?” Zale looks dubiously at the little baggie of pre-rolled joints in my hand like it might bite him. It looks like he had the same idea as me since we’ve both changed. He’s wearing sweatpants and a vest for our impromptu sleepover.
“Yeah. I found it.” I shrug, not letting him kill my happiness with his grumpy face. “In my bag. Bell must have packed it.”
Zale puts a bottle of whiskey and a few cans down on the coffee table, along with more snacks before pushing it to one side, creating a U shape with the L-shaped sofa and coffee table. He takes the quilts, and some throws, placing them down in the empty space along with cushions before sitting on the floor with his back against the sofa.
I start dotting some candles around the open space and light the ones on the dining table and the kitchen island and in no time we’re good to nestle into the cozy little space we’ve created ready to light up.
The cabin was growing on me. Seeing it through Zales eyes had given me a new appreciation for it. It’s like I’m seeing the effort that my parents had gone to for the first time and noticing the little things they’d included to make our lives easier. Things like having my own wardrobe here, or the tea I preferred, but I’d always just taken it for granted.
“Is he your boyfriend?” Zale’s voice is low, soft as he opens a bag of chips and cracks open a still cold can of beer.
“Bell is a they, thank you. And no, they’re not.” I use the closest candle to light my joint before joining him, claiming the other edge of the soda.
“Why not?”
I inhale, holding it for a second before I try to blow a few sloppy smoke rings. “Because I’m not macho enough for them. They like their lovers big, strong and alpha.”
Zale tilts his head thoughtfully, “And a beta isn’t good enough?”
“Hm, something like that.” I don’t like the feel of his gaze on me, it’s like he sees everything as he tries to peel back the layers of my lies. “Besides, you know what they say about me.”
He pauses, taking another gulp of his beer, “I do.”
The bitter laugh that escapes my laugh is hollow. “Slutty beta. Fucked a professor. Fucked a janitor. Fucked half the football team. Anyone and everyone has knotted me. How can I be contained to one person?”
“For the right person you could be.”
I let his words sink in for a moment, shocked into silence that the footballer was a secret sweetheart? No, the math isn't mathing here.
“Oh please.” I snicker, taking another hit of my smoke. I was still too uptight for the type of conversation we were having. I needed my head to be wavy and my body to chill the fuck out. Zale was making my skin feel like I had pins and needles every time his gaze lingered on me a little too long, this damn pre-heat was driving me crazy. I was already half-hard and feeling like I was on a hair-trigger. “Enough about me, what’s the deal with you and Romilly? Why didn’t you go to Crest Haven for her birthday celebrations?”
He glances away, rubbing the back of his neck before tugging on the back of his hair again. Double whammy on the anxiety.
“It’s not my thing.”
I think my eyes bug out of my head. Not his thing? Nightclubs, bars, restaurants, beautiful beaches, beautiful company? Private plane? And all on our parents’ credit card? If I wasn’t so determined to avoid…well, people, then I’d be tempted.
“I don’t understand how you can stand to be apart. Shouldn’t you still be in the honeymoon phase—fucking like bunnies and whatnot? Yet your girlfriend is in another city, getting drunk, looking hot and dirty dancing without you.” I narrow my eyes at him as he squirms, shifting from one side to the other as he finishes his beer and grabs the whiskey.
Why did I ask? Goddess, was I just a glutton for punishment? I watch in disbelief as he opens the bottle of single malt Welsh whiskey and guzzles almost half like he’s drinking Gatorade before placing it down between us.
“Alright then.” I snort as a thought occurs to me. “You can be honest Zale…are you shit in bed?”
A few strands of longer blond hair fall forward, giving him an oddly disheveled and vulnerable look as he flips me off. “Fuck you, Shiloh.”
Clicking my tongue against the roof of my mouth, I offer him my joint, which he takes with a frown. I don’t know why I’m pushing the topic.
I don’t really want to hear about his sex life with my sister. It would be just one more thing she probably excelled at that I was a failure in. That shouldn’t make me feel like shit, but when I was racking up a list of Romley’s virtues, I couldn’t help but let it get beneath my skin like an itch that went deeper. Like something had borrowed beneath, digging and crawling inside until I was clawing at my own flesh.
“No thanks. Alphas may think any hole is a goal, but I’m good.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it, you prickly asshole.” He inhales with a wince. Exhaling slowly, he coughs a little but tries to hide it with the back of his hand. “Anyway, no. I’m not shit in bed. We’ve never had any issues being…intimate.”
“Ha! Intimate? Is this the 1800s?” I laugh. Zale’s prudish nature is not what I’m expecting. “Did you fuck on the first date?”
He takes another toke before rubbing his face with his other hand and staring up at the ceiling. “Technically…yeah, but we were drunk. So, we didn’t want it to count.”
He didn’t want their first time to be remembered as a drunken fumble? That shouldn’t do things to me, but it does. Fuck, I can’t think good things about my sister’s jock boyfriend. I notice the sweat beading on my skin, and trickling down my spine. Maybe we should let the fire dim a little? It was getting too warm in here.
“So what? You had a sexual do-over?” I open the bottle of whiskey and take a few mouthfuls, letting the sweetness linger on my lips. My father always had the best taste with his alcohol. “Who knew you were so soft? Were the rose petals on the sheets? Soft, squishy ickle jock, with tiny little?—”
He kicks out at me, his barefoot nudging mine. “Fuck’s sake, Shiloh!”
The skin-on-skin contact is like a bolt through my body, and I fucking hate it. I growl, taking another swallow of booze. “Stop saying my name, asshole.”
“Pft. Make me.” Zale waves me off, throwing the filter tip into the fire before reaching across for the whiskey. “Shiloh Vos.”
I hate how good my name sounds slipping from his lips. Like a prayer.
His foot is still touching me, so I shake him off. “I’m not adverse to shoving my fist in your face.”
Waggling a finger at me he snickers, “See, stabby little hedgehog.”
“Excuse me?! What the fuck did you just call me?” The combination of the preheat, weed and whiskey is making me lightheaded and my words come out slurred. “A heglehog? A hedhgod? Fuck! You know what I mean!”
“What? That’s your spirit animal.”
“Say that to my face, Blackwood.”
He gets onto his knees and leans in, cool breath skittering across my skin as he says, “Hedge. Hog.”
I don’t know what the fuck my addled brain is thinking, but I shove him backwards, launching myself at him as I poke and prod at the sensitive spots on his sides. He’s much bigger than me, his frame broader and while I pinch and poke everything I can reach, he’s admittedly more muscle than soft spots.
“Ow, shit. Shiloh!” He grunts as he tries to stop me, but I’ve latched on like a damn koala. I jab him near his armpit and he squirms, “Calm down, Hedgehog.”
“Stop calling me that!” I manage to get my fingers in that tender spot just under his ribs before biting down on the exposed part of his shoulder.
“Stop being all prickly then!” He half yelps, half laughs. “Stop!”
He shifts further back, as he tries to pin my arms to my side. I thrash and wriggle before realizing that I’m not going anywhere.
“Better, Hedgehog?” He asks softly, positioning both my wrists behind my back, holding them in one of his giant hands.
With a grunt, I lunge forward, biting down on his bottom lip until I taste blood. The coppery tang calms me for long enough for me to think ‘ Holy shit, what did I just do ?’ but it doesn’t last as Zale’s lips crash into mine.
He claims my mouth in a kiss that makes my body burn, my head no longer fuzzy but filled with a crystal clarity that screams ‘ mine ’ and ‘ more ’ as I grind against him.
Kissing Zale is like being owned. He is everything, demanding more and more from me as he pulls every last sane thought from my head. His tongue dips into my mouth and he groans against my lips, tasting me as he pulls me closer. I’m straddling his lap, with my hands still behind my back, leaving me exposed to Zale’s kisses and little bites as he sucks my bottom lip gently between his teeth.
“Why do you smell…so good?” Zale seems just as lost to the sensations as me, his mouth barely leaving my skin as he kisses my jawline and down my neck. “Like autumn leaves and toffee apples.”
“Shut up,” I whine, as I kiss him, tasting the hints of whiskey and weed mixed in with something smokey and deep. I grind my hips again, my cock painfully needing some sort of friction.
Zale’s head falls back as I roll my hips over his erection, surprised to find him just as hard as I am. Am I dreaming right now? Did I hit my head and go to horny heaven?
“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Use me.” He groans, letting my wrists go to grab onto my ass and guide me over his cock.
Did he just call me baby? And did I like it?
With my hands free, I grab hold of his hair and suck a mark on his neck near his Adam’s apple while I keep rolling and bucking my hips. With the preheat, my body has been stupidly sensitive so I’m already perched on the edge of my orgasm. I can almost taste it, all fire and smokiness mixed in with something sweet.
Zale nuzzles my neck, scent marking me as my thrusts start to become stuttered and I whine again, ripping his vest up over his head, leaving me to run my hands over his toned chest.
“I’ve got you,” Zale says as he grabs my ass cheeks, kneading me before he helps me move, making both of us exhale with desperate, feral sounds. His hand slips inside my pajama shorts and down my crease until his fingers are pressed against my slick, dripping hole, practically making me howl with pleasure.
“Oh fuck, there. Right there.”
“You’re so wet for me,” he sounds in almost awe as he pushes one of his fingers past my tight rim, the burn welcome but not enough. He pumps in tempo with our lazy thrusts for a few minutes before pulling out. My body is bereft at the loss of him inside me, hole clenching as I make a pathetic keening noise.
“Mmmm, make me come,” I almost sob against his collarbone, moving back to free both our cocks from our clothes. “Zale, make me come. I need it.”
His dick is huge. As I press mine against his, getting it slippery and slick with my precum, I realize it’s going to take both of my hands to make this work. But I will make this work. I need this. I need him. My body is on fire from the inside as I chase my climax.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
As I wrap both hands around our cocks, and start jerking us off together, he kisses me. It feels so right. The feel of him, throbbing and hard in my hands. The smell, smokey, like logs when they’ve just burned out.
He pushes two fingers inside me this time, fucking me mercilessly with them as I fuck up into the vice-like grip I’ve created, the glide against him hot and silky.
It doesn’t take long, a few thrusts, a few erratic heartbeats, a few shared panting breaths and I explode with a loud groan, ribbons of cum covering his chest. I don’t stop, my still hard dick fucking against his as his body starts to tremble and tighten.
“Fuck, that’s it, baby. You got one more for me?” He doesn’t stop, his fingers rubbing against my prostate, the pressure making my vision go white at the edges as my hole clenches down on him and it triggers a second orgasm.
“Fucking perfect,” his words come out strangled as he comes, spurts of cum covering my hands and spattering on his chest.
Before he can detangle himself from me, I lean down and lick up the combined mess we’ve made. It tastes sweet and smoldering, with a muskiness that sends my omega brain wild despite the way the suppressants are supposed to mute everything. My cock tries for one more spurt as I taste us, but I’m spent. For now.
When I’ve cleaned up every last drop, he finally pulls out of my stretched hole, and chuckles at the protesting noise I make as he straightens my shorts. He tucks himself away and reaches out for me, pulling me into his chest.
“Come here, it’s late.” He wraps his arms around me, pulling me down so that we’re laying on the floor before covering us with a quilt. The fire crackles in the background, the orange flames now simmering. “And we’re drunk. And high.”
“More,” I beg, burying my face in his neck, inhaling his scent, covering myself in his pheromones and him in mine. Not that I really carry a scent, not on with medication.
His eyes drift closed, and he strokes my messy curls. “Hmmm, sleep first.”
I finally drift off, my nose still in the crook of his neck, my hand on his bare chest over the steady thrum of his heartbeat, his arm around me, his lips on my hair, our legs woven together like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Mine , a little voice whispers in the back of my head.
My Mate .