Chapter 2
TWO
Lorcan
The wedding is a fucking circus. I’ve spent the last hour grinning like a fool, posing for pictures, shaking hands with people I don’t even know, all while pretending I’m enjoying myself. The things an alpha has to do to keep up appearances. The charm, the patience, the fake smiles – it’s all a game. I’m good at it – too good – but I’m so over it now. The small talk, the gushing, the endless well-wishes for the newlyweds. It’s exhausting, and I’m desperate to get away from it all. Because my alpha instincts are restless, prowling beneath the surface.
Finally, the photographer calls it a wrap, and I’m given the green light to move. I don’t need to be told twice. I slip out of the crowd with a purposeful stride, my tie already loose around my neck, the top button of my shirt undone. The clinking of glasses and the chatter behind me fades as I make my way toward the bar, but before I get there, a wave of frustration surges through me. I don’t even want a drink right now. I want a goddamn escape.
I pause just before the bar, feeling the need for some fresh air. The scents in the room are already overwhelming and the day is still young. The alcohol, sweat, cloying sweetness of perfume and hormones. None of them matter. Not when I can still sense something else, something sharper and far more intoxicating lingering in the air.
The toilets are nearby, a quick pit stop to get my bearings and get some space from this circus. But as I turn the corner toward the restroom, something stops me.
A scent.
It slams into me like a fist to the gut. Sweet, rich, unmistakeable. My pulse kicks up, my body tensing in response. My alpha instincts sharpen in an instant, zeroing in on the source, like a predator catching the first trace of its prey.
Green apple with a crisp, refreshing bite, toasted pecans warming beneath it, and the deep, comforting sweetness of caramel. And then, just the faintest hint of cinnamon lingers, like a whisper on the breeze.
It’s warm and intoxicating, the kind of scent that wraps around you and makes everything else fade into the background. It tugs at something primal, something instinctive, a part of me that’s been quiet for too damn long. Alphas don’t just react to scent – we feel it, claim it. And right now, every part of me is telling me this one belongs to me.
I breathe it in deeper, unable to stop myself.
Addictive. Consuming.
The control I’ve spent years perfecting, wavers for the first time in a long damn while. This isn’t just attraction. This is instinct.
This is mine .
My body reacts before my brain does, pulling me forward, drawn to it like a magnet. The sharp edges of my usual control slip away with each breath.
I don’t know what the hell it is about this scent, but it hits me straight in the chest. It’s like a damn brand, burning its way into my lungs, seeping under my skin. My control is slipping, instincts sharpening, my entire body screaming for one thing – find her. Take her.
The primal need flares up, and I start walking without even thinking about it.
I’m halfway down the corridor, head turning instinctively to track the source, when I bump into someone.
“Shit, sorry,” I mutter, my eyes still locked on the door I was heading toward.
The moment our bodies collide, I know. The scent is stronger now, wrapping around me, sinking into my lungs like a drug I can’t quit.
I take a step back, glancing down at who I’ve collided with.
And then I see her.
She’s standing there, caught off-guard, looking at me with wide eyes. I freeze for a moment, heart pounding in my chest.
Every cell in my body locks onto her at once. The scent. The way she moves. The way her wide bright blue eyes meet mine. Flaming red locks.
Recognition slams into me like a truck, my alpha instincts roaring to life.
Mine .
It’s her .
The woman I’ve been trying not to think about for the last few weeks. The beta from the hen-do – the one I fucked without asking any questions, and yet, I can’t stop thinking about.
Her.
I’m hit by another wave of that intoxicating scent, and my breath catches. She’s standing too close, and every instinct in me is telling me to move back, to play it cool, but I don’t want to.
I can’t.
I take a step toward her, keeping my eyes locked on hers.
She should run. Anyone with sense would. But she doesn’t. She stays. Breathless, tense, like she’s waiting for something. And fuck, that only makes me want her more.
“You,” I say, my voice lower than I intended, a rough edge to it. “I didn’t think I’d see you here.”
She looks a little flustered, her cheeks flushed, and she stumbles over her words.
“I…didn’t think I’d see you here either.”
That scent – it’s coming from her. Sweet, potent, dizzying. And fuck, now that I know, there’s no pretending I don’t. There’s no ignoring what my body already understands.
She’s an omega.
My alpha is screaming that she’s my omega.
And I’m standing too close to walk away now.
There’s an awkward silence between us, the kind where neither of us knows quite what to say, but the tension is thick, palpable. I can feel my heart beating in my throat, and something sharp and predatory stirs in my chest. I don’t want to play nice anymore. I want her closer, want to breathe in that scent again, want to know how it feels to touch her, to taste her.
I’ve never been this affected by a woman before. Never like this.
Her eyes flick to the side, probably looking for an escape, but there’s nowhere for her to go – not with me blocking the way. And I don’t move. Not yet.
“I didn’t know you were…friends with the bride,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, though it cracks just slightly, betraying the sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through me. I can’t remember the last time I felt this off-balance.
“I’m not.” She shakes her head quickly, a little too fast. “Not really. Just…here to support an old school friend. Not part of the wedding party like you.”
“I didn’t meet the bride until last week, and I didn’t recognise her either. I had no idea you’d be here.”
The tension hangs there, between us, like a taut string, and I can almost hear the hum of it in the air. Neither of us is moving, not even breathing normally. The scent is so much stronger now that I’m this close, filling my head, drowning out everything else. It’s intoxicating, and my brain is scrambling, trying to catch up.
The beta – fuck, she’s really an omega, and I don’t even know her name – and we stare at each other for a beat too long.
Then, almost as if it’s a decision made without thought, I step forward, close enough that she can feel the heat radiating from me. The movement seems to snap her out of whatever trance she was in. Her breath hitches, and her eyes widen for a fraction of a second before she glances away.
But it’s too late. I’ve already seen that flicker. That heat in her gaze. She feels it, too.
“Look,” I say, my voice rougher now, “we don’t have to do this whole small talk thing. We both know what happened. And I’ve been thinking about it ever since.”
She flinches, just a little. But it’s enough to make my pulse spike again.
I take another step closer. “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about it too.”
Her eyes dart to the side, like she’s searching for an out. But I don’t give her one.
This, whatever this is between us, it isn’t finished. Not by a long shot.
And I’m not going anywhere.
Her breath catches again, her chest rising and falling with an almost frantic rhythm, and I feel it – feel the shift in the air around us. I barely even notice the subtle change at first, too focused on the way she’s trying to avoid my gaze, her fingers twitching like she wants to pull away but doesn’t quite have the strength to.
Then it hits me, sharp and unmistakable – the scent. The rich, sweet notes of caramel and apple, and now… something more. Something deeper, more primal. The cinnamon lingers like a soft, spicy heat, and as I inhale, I can feel it in my gut. But this isn’t just the same intoxicating scent from before. It’s more . It’s… hers .
I lock eyes with her, noticing the slight dilation of her pupils, the way they darken, that flicker of something raw I haven’t seen before.
The air between us crackles with an undeniable intensity. She’s trying to hold it together, but I can see the effort it takes.
And then, I catch it. The faintest trace of something…I can’t quite place.
Fuck.
I breathe in again, harder this time, and it hits me like a freight train.
The scent. It’s coming from her, no question. But this – this isn’t just some woman I fucked on a whim. An anonymous one-night-stand, beta. She’s not even an omega I randomly fucked. Her scent is layered with something familiar, something intoxicating. And it’s unmistakable now.
My pulse spikes, my body reacting instinctively. I’ve been around enough omegas to know their scent. The way it fills the space between us, cloying and sweet, demanding attention. But with her the effect is something else entirely. Her thick and undeniable remnants of caramel and apple have my entire body reacting and my inner alpha going wild.
I stare at her, my mind racing. Her pupils are wide, and her breathing is erratic. She’s trying to keep control, but I can see it. The flicker of panic behind her eyes.
I step closer, my voice lower, more deliberate. “You…You’re not a beta, Red.” It’s not a question. It’s a fact, one that settles over both of us like a heavy weight.
Her face flushes, and I see the panic flicker across her expression before she quickly masks it with a forced indifference. But it’s too late. I’ve already noticed.
“Not a beta,” I repeat, the words tasting different now, something almost reverent in the way I say them. She’s an omega. The confirmation makes the tension in the air grow even thicker, and I can feel my own body responding to it.
Her scent’s becoming more intense, the caramel notes mixing with something deeper – something that triggers an ache in me that I can’t ignore. Her body’s reacting to me too, I can tell.
Her pupils blow that glossy sheen I’ve only seen in omegas. It makes my mouth go dry.
Shit. She’s in heat. Or on the verge of it at least.
That’s the only explanation for the sudden flood of desire coursing through me, the almost violent reaction to her scent.
I take another step closer, and she stiffens, but she doesn’t pull away. She can’t. Not now, not when I’m this close. The scent of her heat wraps around me like a thick fog, intoxicating, overpowering. I feel my own instincts pushing to the surface, the urge to mark her, to claim her rising in my chest.
I swallow hard, trying to keep myself together. But fuck, this may just be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. My alpha is beating against my chest, demanding to be let out to take what’s ours, and my control feels like it’s hanging on by a thread. A frayed thread.
“You should’ve told me,” I growl, my voice rougher now, low and tight with frustration.
She looks up at me then, and I see it – the confusion, the panic. But there’s something else there too, something too honest to ignore. Desire. She can’t hide it. Not anymore.
Her breath hitches, and I’m almost sure her scent shifts again, more intense this time, a subtle invitation that has my heart hammering.
I stand there, frozen for a moment, as the truth hits me hard. It’s like a switch has been flipped, and everything suddenly makes sense. Her scent is not just intoxicating, it’s mine . The same warmth that pulses through my veins, the same sweet heat that clouds my mind, it’s the scent of my match.
Shit.
I take another deep breath, but this time it’s not just the lingering notes of caramel and apple that flood my senses. Toasted pecan dances on my tongue, making me salivate, but there’s something deeper beneath it all, a rawness that sings in tune with my own primal instincts. Cinnamon.
My heart slams against my ribs.
She’s my scent match.
There’s absolutely no denying it.
Mate. Mine. Bite. Claim.
I look at her again, really see her this time. She’s standing there, her back stiffening under the weight of the moment, but her eyes – those wide, panicked eyes – betray her. She knows.
She feels it too. That pull. That primal magnetism that’s as undeniable as it is dangerous.
I swallow hard, stepping back, but my gaze never leaves her. It’s impossible to ignore now. She’s my match. My one in a million, rarer than rare, scent match.
Her heat, her scent, everything about her is meant for me, and I am meant for her.
I’ve been fighting my instincts since the moment we slept together, trying to get her off my mind, but the truth is – there is no staying away now. Not with this, not with her.
“You…” I can barely get the words out, my throat dry, my voice ragged. “You’re my mate. We’re scent matches.”
The confession hangs heavy in the air between us. She flinches, her lips parting, and for a moment, I think she might say something. Anything. But she doesn’t. Instead, she takes a shaky breath, her scent swirling around us like an invisible storm.
“You didn’t know?” I ask, almost in disbelief. She looks so…lost right now, like she can’t comprehend what’s happening any more than I can.
Her face is flushed, eyes darting nervously as she tries to gather her composure. “No…I didn’t?—”
She cuts herself off, looking like she wants to run, but something holds her in place. That pull. Our pull.
“You didn’t know?” I repeat, stepping closer, my voice lower now, almost coaxing. “You’re in heat. That’s what this is. And I’m the one who’s supposed to be…here for you.”
I can feel her stiffen, a shudder running through her at my words, and I watch her carefully, noticing the way her pupils dilate even further. She’s trying to hold herself together, but she can’t fight it anymore. Not when her body is already responding to me in ways that are too obvious to ignore.
“Y-you don’t have to. J-just a s-spike. I’m l-leaving.”
I don’t even realise I’ve moved until I’m standing right in front of her, her scent almost overwhelming me now. My breathing is ragged, and I feel the urge to reach out, to touch her, to claim her as mine.
But I stop myself. I should stop myself.
The tension between us is thick enough to cut through, but I can’t pull away, not when everything about this feels so damn right.
Fuck.
It’s not just the heat or the scent. It’s her. It’s been her since that night and I’m never going back.
I feel the pull between us like a damn magnet. She’s standing there, eyes wide, pupils blown, scent swirling around her like a thick, heady perfume. It’s intoxicating. Delicious. And it takes every ounce of control I’ve got not to step forward, take her in my arms, and claim her right here.
But something about the way she’s standing there, breathing in shallow, panicked gasps, makes me hesitate. I see it – the uncertainty, the fear in her eyes. She’s not ready for this. Hell, I’m not ready for this either. But I know one thing for sure: I can’t walk away from her. I can’t leave her like this.
My overwhelming instinct might be to claim her, but I want to protect and comfort her too. And right now, my alpha recognises that’s what she needs most.
I step closer, just enough to close the distance without crowding her. She flinches, and it drives the beast inside me mad, but I push it down. I won’t rush this. She needs space. She needs control.
“You’re in heat, or on the verge of it, Red.” The accusation slips out again before I can stop it, my voice rougher than I intend. But it’s clear as day – her scent, the way her body trembles – it’s all unmistakable.
She doesn’t answer at first, but I can see it in the way her chest rises and falls, fast and uneven. Her scent spikes again, and I inhale, my entire body going rigid with need. Fuck, this is torture. But I can’t just leave her like this.
“It’s just a spike,” she eventually mutters again, but I’m not convinced. Meeting a scent match can cause an omega to go into early heat, and I think that’s what’s happening here. Although, why it didn’t happen when we first slept together, I don’t know. Maybe she was on heat suppressants. She was certainly on scent blockers.
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. “Look,” I start, softer now, trying to steady my voice. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But you’re not alone in this. If you need help, I’m here. I can help you through it.”
Her eyes flick to mine, wide with panic, and I can see the confusion in her gaze. She’s torn between wanting to push me away and needing the relief I can offer. It’s like she’s fighting herself. Fighting me. But I can’t blame her. She has every right to be scared.
“I know what this is,” I continue, stepping even closer now, but careful not to touch her, to give her space. “I can take care of you. Help you get through it.”
Her breath catches, and I see her throat work as she swallows. She’s fighting it. Fighting me. But I won’t back down. Not now. Not when I can smell her desperation, her need.
“Let me take you to my hotel room,” I say, my voice a low growl. “I’ll get you through the…spike. You won’t have to worry about anything. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”
I see the hesitation in her eyes, her lips pressed together like she’s debating whether to give in or walk away. She doesn’t trust me – not yet. And I get it. I wouldn’t trust me either. But the longer she stands there, the more I see that she’s in over her head.
“I swear, I’ll make sure you’re okay,” I add, my voice softer now, coaxing. “Afterward, we can figure everything else out. But for now…just let me help you. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
Her breath hitches again, and I see the conflict play out in her eyes. She’s scared. Confused. But there’s something else there too – something I can’t quite place. And that little flicker of hope, that desperate need for relief, tells me she’s going to say yes.
Slowly, she nods. The tension in her shoulders eases just a fraction, and my chest loosens a little.
“Okay,” she says almost inaudibly. But I hear it. And that’s all I need.
I reach out, gently taking her elbow and guiding her toward the exit, keeping my pace slow and measured, giving her the space she needs. She’s tense under my touch, but she doesn’t pull away. And that, I think, is progress.
“You won’t regret this,” I promise as we step out into the hallway, away from the crowd. “I’ll get you through it. You just focus on getting through this. I’ll take care of the rest.”
She doesn’t answer, but I can feel her presence beside me, the silent agreement between us.
The moment we step into the elevator, I can already feel the shift in the air between us. It’s thick with tension, the kind that feels like it’s about to break. Her scent is overwhelming now – wild, untamed, and filled with need – and I know it’s only going to get worse before it gets better. I can’t help but inhale deeply, trying to keep my composure, but it’s a losing battle.
She smells too good. Caramel apple pecan pie with a hint of warm cinnamon like my grandma used to make. Nostalgic, comforting…she smells like home.
Her hands tremble at her sides, and I can feel the warmth radiating off her, her body struggling against the fire coursing through her. The elevator doors close, and the pressure in the small, confined space amplifies.
And then she’s on me.
It’s almost like I don’t have a choice in the matter. She lurches forward, her hands gripping my shirt as she presses her body against mine, her eyes wide and desperate.
“Please,” she begs, her voice strained, almost frantic. “Help me. Please. Alpha. I—” She cuts herself off with a whimper, her body grinding against mine, instinct driving her actions.
My breath catches. The moment her scent spikes again, sharp and overwhelming, I can’t stop the groan that rumbles through my chest. My body reacts immediately – blood roaring in my ears, my cock hardening painfully against the thin fabric of my trousers. But I can’t – I can’t let go. Not yet. She needs me calm. She needs me steady. She needs me to have a clear mind.
“Easy,” I murmur, voice low and soothing, as I place my hands on her shoulders, gently but firmly pushing her back, just a few inches, enough to look her in the eye. “I’ve got you, Red. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay. Just a couple minutes more.”
She whimpers again, a soft, needy sound that cuts straight through me. Her pupils are blown, eyes glazed over with desire, her chest heaving as she tries to calm her breathing. But when she moves again, it’s almost impossible for me to keep my hands from sliding down her body, my fingers brushing her luscious curves.
Her hips push forward, grinding against me, and I freeze. The fire of her body presses into mine, and the control I’ve been clinging to for the last few minutes is slipping fast.
“Red, stop,” I warn, but the words feel foreign, wrong, coming from me. My voice is rough, barely above a growl. My alpha is snarling at me for daring to deny our image anything. He doesn’t understand that if I give in now, I’ll likely fall into a rut and the last thing anyone wants is to discover us fucking in an elevator.
I try to hold her at arm’s length, but she’s insistent, her needy little moans breaking my resolve.
“I can’t. I need you. Please. Help me,” she begs, her voice raw, shaking.
And that’s when it hits me – she’s not just asking for help. She’s asking for me . She wants me to take control. Wants me to help her through this madness of heat.
I steady her again, my hands sliding down to her waist as I pull her in closer, my grip firm but gentle. “Calm down, Red. Focus on me,” I coax, my voice a steady hum in the tense space between us. “Listen to me. Just breathe. I’ll get you through this. I won’t let you go.”
She leans into me, her body trembling, but I don’t let her collapse. My touch, soft yet commanding, slides up to her neck, fingers brushing against her pulse point. The steady rhythm of my hand against her throat seems to help calm her, grounding her, at least for a moment.
“Breathe, Red. Deep breaths. You’re okay. I’ve got you,” I say again, this time a little more firmly, forcing her to focus on me, on the sound of my voice, on my touch.
But the grind of her hips doesn’t stop, not for a second. She’s desperate – she’s so desperate – and the intensity of it is threatening to snap my control entirely.
I guide her hands to my chest, keeping her grounded, using my body to reassure her. “I’m not going anywhere,” I promise, my words low and steady, though my own body is starting to betray me. Her heat is like fire, igniting every nerve, every inch of me, and the urge to press her back against the elevator wall and take her is almost too much to bear. “I’m Lorcan by the way. I know we said no names last time, but I figured this is different.”
“Devlin,” she gasps.
I chuckle. “Devlin, huh? Descendant of the unlucky one?”
“Story of my life,” she sighs. “Heard it all before, looks like today is just my luck too.”
“I don’t know, Devlin. It seems like your luck might be about to change.” I flash her a grin.
She moves again, harder this time, her body grinding against mine with a quiet gasp that only serves to shatter what little control I have left. “Please, Lorcan...I need you,” she whispers, her words trembling as her hips push forward again.
I close my eyes, swallowing thickly, fighting the urge to take her right then and there. It’s all I can do not to lose myself in this moment, but I know she needs more than just me giving into the desire. She needs stability. She needs care.
But fuck my life, is it hard to deny her. And why the hell is this lift taking so damn long?
“Hold on,” I soothe, keeping my hands steady, both holding her tight now. “We’re almost there, Red…Devlin. Just a little longer.”
The elevator dings, and I feel the momentary reprieve as the doors slide open to the floor my suite is on. Fuck. I’m sharing the suite with my pack mates. Sure, they’re downstairs at the wedding right now, but they won’t be forever.
Shit. I’ll have to message them in a bit.
“Come on,” I say, hoisting her gently but firmly, keeping her close as I guide her out of the elevator. “Just a few more steps. I’ll make it better, I promise.”
The door to the suite swings open, and before I even have a chance to fully step inside, she’s on me again. I barely have time to register the movement before her hands are gripping my shirt, pulling me toward her. Her lips crash against mine in a frantic, desperate kiss, and I’m momentarily stunned by the force of it.
Her need is palpable, desperate, and it takes everything in me to resist the urge to rip her clothes off and claim her right here, right now. But I can’t – I won’t – not like this. Not until I know she’s in control of herself, even a little.
But the sound of her soft whimper against my lips sends a rush of heat straight to my chest, and when she pulls away just enough to look at me, her pupils wide, wild with heat, it takes everything in me to hold back.
“Lorcan, please…” she breathes, her voice shaky, pleading. “I need you. I can’t…can’t wait anymore.”
My heart is pounding in my chest, blood thrumming in my ears as her scent floods the air again, thick and intoxicating, nearly making me lose my grip on reality. She’s so close. I feel the heat radiating off her like a fever, her body trembling against mine, and I know this is the moment where I either snap or stay in control.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Devlin,” I command, my voice rough. “Listen to me. We need to slow down, just a little. You’re not in control right now, so I need you to listen while I take control.”
She shakes her head, a soft, pitiful sound escaping her lips. “I can’t. I can’t stop. I need you to take me, please…” Her voice cracks as she tugs at my shirt again, and I swear, if she keeps this up, I won’t be able to hold back.
“Devlin, look at me,” I command, my voice stern but gentle. There’s no alpha bite to it, but she reacts as if there was. Her wide, panicked eyes lock with mine, and for a moment, the world seems to narrow down to just the two of us. “You’re safe with me. You hear me? You’re safe, and I’m going to help you through this.”
She nods, but it’s not enough. The spike is so intense, I can feel her trembling under my touch, and my control is slipping, thread by tenuous thread. I push her back gently, forcing some space between us. “We need to breathe. You need to focus, just for a second. A minute longer, I promise. Then I’ll give you everything you need, I promise.”
Her breath is shallow, rapid, and I can feel her pulse racing under my fingertips as I hold her still. Her body is on fire, her scent so overwhelming I’m struggling to stay grounded. But I will. For her, I’ll force myself to remain in control. Somehow.
I guide her through the suite to the main bedroom, through the door and over to the bed, sitting her down gently, so that I can kneel in front of her. “I’m not going anywhere,” I swear, my voice steady but with an edge of something darker beneath it. “But you need to trust me. Just breathe, Devlin. Breathe with me.”
Her chest rises and falls in quick bursts, her pupils still blown wide. I place my hand on her chest, over her racing heart, trying to ground her. Slowly, I begin to count her breaths. In…out…in…out. Her breathing starts to settle, but every breath she takes fills the air with caramelised apples and toasted pecans – like a sweet, hot fire that’s about to consume everything in its path.
She finally exhales shakily and looks at me, her voice trembling. “I—I can’t hold back anymore. Please…I need you.”
I glance down at her, the desperation in her eyes making it harder to keep my control. The ache in my body is unbearable, but I keep my gaze steady on her, forcing my voice to remain calm as I carefully undo the ankle straps of her stilettos and place them to one side.
“You don’t need to hold back, Devlin. I’ve got you,” I promise, my hands hovering just above her skin, careful not to make the first move. She’s in no state to make decisions right now.
With that, she seems to lose the last bit of restraint, her hands sliding up to pull me closer. Her lips find mine again, urgent, desperate, and this time I let myself feel it. I kiss her back with the same intensity, my hands gripping her hips, guiding her forward as she presses herself into me.
The moment her body flushes against mine, I feel the world tilt, the sharp ache in my chest turning into an unbearable heat. I need her, but I fight it, fighting the primal urge that’s clawing at me from within.
I pull back just enough to look into her eyes again. “Are you sure, Red?” I ask. “Because once we start, I won’t be able to stop.”
She nods frantically, her body trembling with desire, her hands sliding up to tug at my shirt. “Please. Don’t make me beg. Just…help me. I need you to help me through this, alpha.”
I swallow hard, my control slipping even further. There’s no turning back now.
I push her back onto the bed, leaning over her, my lips brushing the soft skin of her throat. “You’re going to feel so good,” I promise, my voice rough with hunger. “I’ll take care of you. Just trust me.”
A shiver runs through her at my words, her breath hitching as her fingers fist into my shirt, trying to pull me closer. But I need to see her first. All of her.
My hands slide to the straps of her green dress, a perfect complement to her flaming red locks, dragging them down her arms slowly, savoring every inch of skin that’s revealed. The fabric pools at her waist, and I sit back slightly, my gaze raking over her.
“Fuck, Red,” I mutter, my voice thick with desire. “You’re perfect. Even more perfect than I remember.”
She’s flushed, panting, her chest rising and falling rapidly. The black lingerie she’s wearing is delicate, lacy, but I can already see the damp fabric clinging to her skin, proof of just how much she needs this – needs me.
A soft whimper escapes her as I drag my knuckles over her bare collarbone, tracing the edge of the lace. My cock aches painfully at the way she squirms under my touch, the way her thighs press together as if she’s trying to chase relief.
“So fucking beautiful,” I praise, sliding my fingers down her ribs, mapping every soft curve. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
She moans, her hands tugging at my belt now, frantic and needy, but I grab her wrists and pin them to the bed. “Not yet, sweetheart,” I murmur. “I want to take my time with you.”
She whines, arching up into me, but I just smirk, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to her stomach. “Let me appreciate you first, little omega,” I whisper against her skin, inhaling deeply as her scent wraps around me, intoxicating and impossible to resist.
Her entire body trembles beneath me, her heat spiking again, her scent thickening in the air, and I know I’m only seconds away from completely losing myself in her so I need to make the most of this moment.
How did I not know she was an omega when we met before? We had the most amazing night together, and I never once suspected. She must have been on suppressants or blockers or something, because she never smelt like this.
Her body arches up into mine again, a soft cry of need escaping her as I trail my lips down her neck, my hands working deftly to strip away her bra.
The scrap of lace falls away, baring her to me, and I pause, taking in the sight of her. She’s flushed, panting, her skin hot beneath my hands, and fuck – she’s even more perfect than I remembered.
I drag my thumb over one peaked nipple, watching the way her breath catches, the way her hips shift instinctively, searching for friction. “So fucking responsive,” I praise, dipping my head to capture the other between my lips. Her back bows as she gasps, her fingers threading into my hair, tugging, desperate. “Such a good girl for me.”
“Lorcan,” she breathes, voice wrecked with need.
Hearing my name on her lips like that – like a prayer – sends a vicious jolt of possession through me. My hands slide down her body, pulling her dress off and pushing the last barrier of lace down her hips. She shivers as the cool air brushes her bare skin.
I groan as I settle between her thighs, my palms skimming up the soft curves of her legs, spreading her open. She’s soaked, slick glistening in the dim light, and the scent of her arousal is dizzying, intoxicating, making my control slip further.
“Look at you,” I rasp, dragging two fingers through her slick, teasing. “You’re fucking drenched for me, Red.”
A broken moan spills from her lips, her hands fisting in the sheets, but it’s not enough.
I press a kiss to the inside of her thigh, my breath hot against her skin. “Tell me you want this,” I demand, my lips trailing higher, my fingers still teasing at her entrance but not giving her what she needs just yet.
She whimpers, trying to shift her hips, trying to get me to touch her properly, but I hold her still. “Say it,” I demand, my voice low, rough, desperate.
“I want it,” she gasps. “Please, Lorcan?—”
That’s all I need.
I surge forward, dragging my tongue through her slick, and the sound she makes – the wrecked little sob of pleasure – nearly undoes me.
The moment my tongue touches her, I’m dragged back to that night.
I remember the way she’d gasped then too, the way she’d clutched at me, desperate and reckless, as if the world outside the hotel room hadn’t existed. We’d burned together, bodies tangled in sweat-damp sheets, her soft moans filling the air as I drove her over the edge again and again. I hadn’t known her name. She hadn’t asked for mine. It should’ve been a forgettable one-night stand.
Except it wasn’t.
I couldn’t fucking forget her.
And now, with her spread out beneath me again, her scent thick in the air, her body trembling with need, I know why.
Because she’s mine. She was always meant to be mine.
Satisfaction slams into me, my instincts roaring in triumph, my cock aching to claim her. I should’ve known. No wonder I haven’t been able to get her out of my head. No wonder no one else has come close since.
She’s my scent match.
And she’s in heat. For me.
A low growl rumbles in my chest as I grip her thighs, using my broad shoulders to keep them spread, holding her still, my mouth working her over with slow, devastating precision. I remember how she’d come undone for me before, how her body had shuddered and clenched around me like she’d been made for it. I want to see her like that again – no, I need to.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging hard, and I groan in pleasure at the sharp spike of pain. “Lorcan. Please?—”
Fuck, I can’t drag this out any longer.
I slide two fingers into her, curling them just right, and the cry that rips from her throat is everything. She’s so tight, so wet, clenching down like she’s trying to pull me deeper, and the memory of being inside her – hot, perfect, endless – slams into me so hard I nearly lose control.
“Yeah, that’s it,” I rasp against her thigh, watching the way she writhes, her pupils blown wide, her lips parted in breathless, pleading moans. “Just like before, Red. Gonna make you come so hard you forget your own name.”
Her body tenses, her thighs trembling in my grip, and I know she’s close – so close. And fuck, I need to see her fall apart. Need to feel it. Taste it. Drown in it.
I press my tongue against her clit, my fingers fucking into her just right, and gently command, “Come for me, Omega.”
The command wrecks her.
Her entire body goes taut, her back arching off the mattress as she cries out, trembling beneath me. Her scent spikes, thick and intoxicating, and I feel the way she pulses around my fingers, slick coating my hand and drenching the sheets as she shatters.
Fuck.
I don’t stop. I can’t. My mouth stays on her, my fingers coaxing every last wave of pleasure from her body, dragging it out until she’s a shaking, wrecked mess beneath me. Until my name spills from her lips in a gasping, pleading whimper.
I finally pull back, dragging my tongue over my bottom lip, tasting her. She’s more caramel pecan than apple pie now, but just as delicious. More so.
Her thighs are still trembling where they rest against my shoulders, her chest rising and falling with quick, uneven breaths, and I know I will never get enough of this woman. This omega. My omega.
I shift up over her, my hands bracing on either side of her head, watching the way her dazed eyes struggle to focus on me. I feel her heat, the way her body still thrums with it, begging for more.
My cock is throbbing, straining against my trousers, desperate for relief, but I don’t rush her. I won’t – not until she tells me to.
Instead, I dip my head, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to her throat, letting her feel my restraint even as my body screams to claim her.
“You okay?” I ask, my voice thick, rough.
She exhales shakily, her hands sliding up my arms, fingertips digging into my shoulders like she’s grounding herself. “Yeah.” A breath, then, softer, “More.”
My jaw tightens, restraint fraying. “You sure?”
She nods, eyes dark, lips parted, her scent still flooding the room, demanding .
And fuck, I don’t need to be told twice.
I sit back, tearing my shirt off before reaching for my belt, my eyes locked on hers as I unbuckle it. The leather slides free with a quiet snap. Her gaze drops, hunger flaring across her face, and she bites her lip like she’s trying to hold back the whimper that threatens to escape.
Fuck, Red. She’s killing me.
I shove my trousers down, my cock springing free, hard and aching, and the sound she makes is pure, unfiltered need.
“Gonna take care of you,” I promise, gripping her hips and dragging her down the bed toward me. She gasps, her hands flying to my forearms. “Gonna make sure you don’t feel anything but me.”
Then I line myself up and push inside.
Her sharp, broken gasp punches through the air the second I start to push in. Her fingers tighten on my forearms, her nails biting into my skin as her body stretches around me, taking me inch by inch.
“Oh my god,” she breathes, her voice trembling.
I clench my jaw, forcing myself to go slow, even as every muscle in my body screams at me to move , to take, to claim. She’s so hot, so tight, gripping me like she was made for me. Like her body knows exactly who I am.
Her head tips back against the pillows, her throat bared, lips parted, her chest rising and falling with shallow, needy breaths.
I slide in deeper, forcing myself to keep watching her. “You feel that, Red?” I rasp. “The way you’re gripping me? Like you don’t want me to pull out?”
Her pupils blow wider, her thighs trembling where they’re wrapped around me. “I—” She swallows hard, her breath catching, her body twitching as I sink deeper still.
“It’s because you’re mine. Such a good omega for your alpha.”
She’s so wet, so open, her heat dragging me in until I’m buried inside her, nothing but fire and pressure and her. Perfection.
“Tell me how it feels,” I demand, my hand sliding up her body, palm skimming over her ribs before settling at her throat. Not squeezing, just feeling her rapid pulse beneath my fingertips.
She exhales shakily, shifting beneath me, her hips rocking slightly, adjusting to the thick stretch of me inside her. I feel her shudder around me, the flutter of her walls tightening and releasing.
“It’s—” She gasps again, blinking up at me with glassy eyes. “Fuck. You feel so…” Her head tips back further, heat rolling off her in waves. “Full. I feel so fucking full, alpha.”
I groan low in my throat, the sound vibrating through both of us.
She’s not wrong. She is full – stretched, stuffed, her slick making it easy for me to push deep, so deep that I can feel her body pulsing around me, pulling me in.
And it’s driving me fucking insane.
I flex my hips, just the slightest movement, but she reacts, a whimper slipping from her throat, her nails biting harder into my skin.
Her scent spikes – sweet and needy – and I swear I almost lose myself right there.
I tighten my grip on her hips, stilling myself before I wreck her. “Breathe for me, baby,” I rasp, brushing my lips over her jaw. “Relax. Let me in. Open up for your alpha.”
She whimpers, but does as I say, drawing in a deep, shaky breath. And when she exhales, her body softens, her thighs easing open a little wider, her walls fluttering around me, inviting me to move.
And I do.
I draw back, slow and deep, dragging against every sensitive spot inside her before pushing back in.
Her reaction is instant. Her whole body jerks, her breath hitching, a strangled moan breaking free from her lips.
And fuck, she’s perfect. She’s so warm, so wet, her body greedily accepting every inch of me like she was made for this.
“Yeah,” I murmur, my voice rough. “That’s it. That’s my good girl. Such a perfect omega.”
She whimpers – a wrecked, desperate sound – and it’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever heard. They shoot straight to my gut, winding my control so tight it’s a miracle I haven’t snapped already. She’s too much – all heat and need and desperate little noises that make my instincts burn.
She clutches at me, her fingers dragging over my skin, her body writhing beneath mine, arching up, pulling me deeper, the heels of her feet digging into the backs of my thighs like she needs more.
“Fuck me, Alpha,” she gasps, her breath hitching on a needy little sob. “ Knot. Bite. Please.”
A violent shudder rips through me.
My instincts snarl at the plea, my teeth aching, my canines throbbing with the need to sink into the soft, delicate place where her neck meets her shoulder. To claim . To bond .
I force my jaw tight, my muscles locking up. “Red.” My voice is guttural, torn from deep in my chest. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
She doesn’t. She thinks she does, but she doesn’t know what it would mean if I bit her now.
She doesn’t realise she’s mine. That I know she’s mine. That I could Bond her right here, right now, and she’d never be able to walk away.
We’re still strangers. We can’t bond. Not like this. She’d end up hating me.
She squirms beneath me, panting, nails raking over my shoulders and biceps. “Don’t care.” Her voice is frantic, pleading. “Need. Alpha. Please. I-I need you.”
I grip her hips, holding her still, trying to catch my breath, trying to fight the primal, overwhelming urge to give her exactly what she’s begging for.
Because fuck, My alpha wants to. I want to.
I want to tear her apart with pleasure, want to fill her, lock her down with my knot, mark her so no one else will ever mistake her for anything but mine.
But she doesn’t understand.
She’s running on instinct, drowning in her heat, and I can’t let her make a choice she doesn’t fully understand.
“I can’t,” I rasp, pressing my forehead against hers, my chest heaving. “Not like this.”
She whines, her hands fisting in my hair, her body arching, still desperate, still pushing for more.
“Please,” she whimpers. “Please, Lorcan. I need it.”
And fuck, her saying my name like that, all breathless and broken, nearly undoes me.
I groan, my hands gripping her hips tighter, forcing myself to focus. “I’ll give you what you need, baby.” My voice is rough, shaky with restraint. “I’ll take care of you. But I won’t bond you. Not like this.”
She sobs, twisting beneath me, her scent spiking, all honeyed desperation and frustration. “Then knot me,” she begs. “Please. Please, Alpha. Knot.”
My vision blurs for a second, instincts threatening to take over.
I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t give her this.
But she’s trembling, her body locked tight with need, and fuck , I can’t not .
“Yeah, baby,” I rasp, pushing in deep, feeling the way she shudders around me, so tight, so hot. Mine. “I’ve got you.”
I grip her hips, holding her down as she writhes beneath me, her body slick with sweat, her pupils so blown they swallow nearly all the colour of her eyes. She’s lost to it – completely at the mercy of her heat, of me.
Mine.
The thought pulses through me like a drumbeat, primal and raw, and it takes everything I have not to give in to the instinct clawing at my gut. Not yet.
She’s still teetering on the edge, still aching, still desperate, her whimpers growing more frantic with every slow, deep thrust.
“More,” she gasps, nails digging into my shoulders, her legs tightening around me. “Please, Alpha, please?—”
I grip her thighs and spread her wider, pressing in deeper, making sure she feels me, making sure I brush right up against the spot that has her keening. “I know, baby,” I soothe, lips skimming over her jaw, her throat. “I’ve got you.”
Her back arches like a bow, her lips parting on a broken gasp, and fuck, I need to see her fall apart again before I knot her. Need to push her over the edge, to hear the way she cries out my name when she shatters.
I shift my weight, one hand sliding between us, my fingers seeking the slick, swollen bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.
The moment I touch her, she wails .
“Fuck— Lorcan!”
My jaw clenches, every muscle in my body locking up at the way she sobs my name, at the way her body jerks, caught between needing more and not being able to take it.
“I know,” I groan, circling that sensitive little spot, feeling her clamp down around me, her slick soaking my fingers. “You’re almost there, baby. Just let go for me.”
She shakes, her legs trembling, her hands grasping at me like she doesn’t know whether to pull me closer or push me away.
“I— I can’t— Oh, fuck?—”
“You can,” I growl, grinding my hips against hers, pressing my fingers harder, coaxing her right to the brink. “You will.”
Her breath stutters, her whole body going taut…
And then she breaks .
A ragged scream tears from her throat as she convulses beneath me, her walls fluttering around me, her pleasure crashing into her like a tidal wave.
It undoes me.
Her scent spikes, wrapping around me, sinking into my bones, branding me.
My vision blurs, my control snaps.
A low, guttural snarl rips from my chest as my body takes over, as my knot swells at the base of my cock, locking me inside her, sealing me to her, claiming her the only way I can.
She sobs through it, her body trembling, still lost in the aftershocks of her orgasm, still so fucking perfect beneath me.
“That’s it,” I groan, cradling her face in my hands, pressing my forehead to hers as my knot locks us together. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. Just breathe.”
She shudders, her fingers tangling in my hair, her breath warm against my lips.
“Alpha.” She’s wrecked and dazed, her scent still thick, still intoxicating. “Mine.”
And fuck, I don’t know how I’m ever supposed to let her go.