31. Chapter Thirty-One #2
I do. I know she had it handled because she's a strong and capable Omega, but she's not alone. She has four mates who can help bear the mounting load being piled on her shoulders.
I carry her past two soldiers who take one look at my face, then at the furious Omega over my shoulder, and suddenly find the opposite wall fascinating.
Halley exhales against my back.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Training room."
"Why?"
I turn down the next corridor, already feeling justified in my decision to extract her from that awful meeting. The bond is settling by the minute.
"Because," I tell her. "You need to hit something."
Halley doesn't respond, just props herself upright using her elbows on my back, and huffs. I can almost picture the pout on her pretty lips.
I shoulder the training room door open, step inside, and kick it shut behind me. It's empty at this hour because everyone with any sense is either sleeping, eating, or arguing over maps.
The air smells of old sweat, leather grips, and the faint metallic tang of weights. Mats cover the center of the floor. Practice weapons line one wall. A row of sandbags hangs from reinforced beams, motionless and waiting for cooped-up soldiers to work out their frustrations.
I carry Halley to the middle of the mat and set her down on her feet.
She shoves my chest the instant I release her. "You are unbelievable."
"I’ve heard that."
"You hauled me out of a war council."
"I did."
"In front of Knox."
"Yes."
"In front of every Prime Alpha currently looking for a reason to question us."
I roll my shoulders and step back. "Also true."
Her eyes narrow until they’re little purple slits of fury. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
"Hit me."
Her mouth parts, then snaps shut.
The bond flares with fresh irritation. Good. That anger feels much more like Halley than the Omega Specialist Sparks holding inside all of that corrosive tension.
"I’m not sparring with you just because you decided to be an overgrown menace."
"Then don’t spar."
I pull off my boots because they might hurt her, and I already know I won’t fight her the way I used to.
Everlyn’s test is still days away, and there might not be a baby in her belly, but I can’t stop thinking about the other possibility.
I won’t kick near her stomach or throw her hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs.
She can hit me, shove me, bruise me, and win if she earns it, but nothing I do is going to hurt her.
I watch her hands flex at her sides and add, "but if you want me to apologize, you'll have to make me."
That does it.
Her nostrils flare. I know that look. I’ve seen it through months of training, when she’s tired and annoyed and seconds from proving an Omega will fight if backed into a corner.
She steps toward me, and I let her come.
Her anger is still aimed at me, but that’s fine because I can take it.
I want to take it. I want all of it out of her body: the frustration from that room, the fear about the pregnancy test result, and the overwhelming terror of the coming war she is supposed to stop with her Omega Command.
"You don’t get to decide when I need a break," she says, raising an accusing finger at me.
"You’re right," I nod, cracking my knuckles and lowering my stance.
Her brows pull together.
I tip my chin toward the door. "So go back."
She doesn’t even glance at the door.
I lower my voice. "Or stay and make me pay for carrying you out."
Her hands curl into fists and lift into position.
I smile.
She lunges at me.
Her first strike comes fast and furious, driven more by her temper than technique. I catch her wrist and turn her past my left side, but she goes with the motion instead of resisting it, planting her boot and twisting back in close so her free elbow drives into my ribs.
I block most of it, but it still lands, and the brief flare of pain makes my mouth curve. As a fully mated Omega with a Pack, she's stronger than she's ever been. Who would've thought an Omega could throw a punch that makes an Alpha hurt?
"There we go," I murmur.
"Don’t praise me," she splutters. Praise is a surefire way to turn our Omega on, and she wants to be angry with me right now, not aroused.
I don't see why we can't do both.
"Then stop being such a good girl," I growl the phrase that usually makes her knees go weak for us.
"Asshole." Her eyes flash with warning, but a pretty blush dusts her cheeks.
She comes in lower this time, leading with her shoulder as if she means to drive me backward. I brace for the hit, but she stops short, stamps her heel down hard on the top of my bare foot, and drives her shoulder into the base of my ribs while my weight is trapped beneath her boot.
It's a dirty move, and beautifully done.
Pain punches up my leg and steals half a breath from my lungs. She sees it and smirks. My Omega misses very little once she gets out of her own head.
"Blaze taught you that, did he?" I ask.
She bares her teeth. "He said to use it on dickheads."
I chuckle at her fire as I reach for her, but she ducks under my arm and drives her knee up with vicious accuracy, aiming right between my legs.
I twist my hips back before she makes contact, saving the parts of me she claims to like. My balls give a hearty ache at the threat.
"Pretty girl!" I feel betrayed that she'd aim for my delicates.
"What?" she goads, breathless, flushed, and grinning wickedly.
"I thought you liked that part of me."
She shrugs. "You’ll heal."
I growl deeply, letting her hear my Alpha, and the sound makes her expression shift. The anger stays, but the blush on her cheeks intensifies and heat moves through the bond.
She tries for my knee next, kicking low and hard, but I step inside the arc of her leg before she can build power and catch her around the waist. I haul her against me, and as her body hits mine, her breath puffs against my throat.
The room narrows to the sound of our breathing, the drag of her boots on the mat, and the low hum of the old lights overhead.
Her scent wraps around me, lavender threaded with irritation and arousal, and my cock hardens in response. I roll my hips against her belly, letting her feel what she's doing to me.
Her pupils widen, and her mouth parts.
Her hand slides between us as if she’s feeling the muscles of my chest as she so often does in the nest, and then the heel of her palm snaps upward into my nose.
"Ah, fuck!" I shout, briefly choked by the spurt of blood dripping from my broken nose. I grunt, more surprised than in pain, and release her so I can snap my nose back into place before it heals on a crooked angle.
Halley slips free with a triumphant laugh that goes straight to my cock.
She dances on the balls of her feet, jumping side-to-side. She hasn't bound her breasts the way she usually does before a sparring match, and she must know how it makes them bounce alluringly.
"You're getting distracted, LT," she says in a sing-song voice.
"And you're fighting dirty." I spit out a mouthful of blood and wipe my face on my sleeve. Why is it so hot when she's violent? Fuck, there really must be a screw loose in my skull.
"I was taught to take advantage of Alphas underestimating me."
"You had smart teachers."
Her impish grin softens. "The best."
Then, before I can react to her sweet sentiment, she launches another attack.
She feints left, but her weight shifts onto her standing leg, and I see the right kick coming before she throws it. I let her shin hit my ribs, then trap the leg against my side with my forearm hooked under her knee.
I step closer as I reel in her leg, taking away her balance before she can hop back, and pull her against my chest with her thigh hitched over my hip.
She yelps as she falls into me, and my arm pins her against my chest.
I roll my hips again and chuckle as she gasps.
"Got you."
For a moment she looks dazed as I hold her tight against me, letting her feel my throbbing length and know that I've caught her.
Then she gets a wicked glint in her eye. Her fingers twist in my shirt, and she yanks me down.