Chapter 28
Ford
“…Iknow, Jamie, but…”
My blood runs cold as Lo’s voice stirs me from my sleep. She sounds upset, worried, and it’s far too early in the morning for all of that.
I jump up, knocking my bed sheets on the floor, in my hurry to see her.
Lo’s standing by the kitchen counter, her cell phone pressed to her ear and her free hand clenched into a fist at her side. Her back is to me, but even without seeing her face, I can feel the tension in her posture.
I don’t say anything at first. I just take a step closer, watching her, letting her know I’m here.
I’m hoping my silent presence can calm her down, because even though Beck is the only one with her mark, and his is the only mark she bears, I don’t need to feel her inside my chest to know that she’s distressed.
That something is wrong.
She doesn’t hear me at first, too absorbed in the conversation with her brother. I can only make out fragments of her side, but that’s enough to know something’s off.
“Yeah, I know, Jamie. I’ll sort it out. Don’t worry, okay?”
She growls as she ends the call, hanging her head low. I hate the sound of her muttering curse words to herself.
“Lo?” I try not to startle her, but I want her to know I’m here. “You okay?”
She jumps, just a little, and her shoulders tense as if she’s been caught in the middle of something private. But when she turns to face me, there’s a flicker of relief in her eyes. Just a brief, fleeting moment before she shutters it away again. I can see it, though. The crack in her wall.
“According to Jamie, they packed. Which means they’re coming to stay for some time. I’m going to have to face my parents after all. I kinda pushed all of that to the back of my mind with the Dylan drama, but now—”
Her scent is a swirl of confusion, stress, and something fragile that she doesn’t let anyone see. But I feel it. I always do. I can tell she’s spiraling, her nerves starting to unravel beneath the pressure.
“Lo…” I whisper, trying to keep as calm as possible, even though my heart is hammering in my chest. “You don’t have to do this alone. I’m here.”
Her eyes flicker for a moment, her breath catching in her throat, but she doesn’t say anything. Just stands there, looking at me. She’s trying to figure out whether she can let herself lean on me.
She shakes her head slowly, trying to convince herself that she can handle it. “I… I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if I’m ready to face them, Ford. I know I have to, but after all these years? After what they did?”
Her voice cracks on the last word, and I want to crush the space between us, wrap her up in my arms, and tell her everything will be okay. But I know that’s not what she needs right now. She needs to face this, but I can help her do it. We all can.
“You don’t have to do it alone,” I repeat, my hand sliding to her shoulder, gently pressing down. “I’ll be here. Whatever you need.”
She looks up at me then, her eyes searching mine for something, for reassurance, for any sign that she’s not as alone as she feels.
“I… I just don’t know what to say to them, Ford.” She shakes her head sadly.
I swallow hard, my thumb brushing the back of her hand before I slide it up to cup her cheek. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Lo. They’re your family, but they don’t get to make you feel small. You’re allowed to feel however you want.”
She exhales slowly, her shoulders dropping slightly, but the tension hasn’t melted away completely. “I just… I don’t know what to do with all of it. All of this. Why can’t my life just be like something in the books? Where it’s perfect and nothing goes wrong?”
“If you’re not ready to do something, then don’t do it,” I say softly.
“Just because they’re coming into town doesn’t mean you owe them a damn thing.
Let’s get out of here for a little while.
Take a drive. We can go somewhere that’s just for us.
I’ll take you somewhere quiet, and we can talk… or not talk. Whatever you need.”
She doesn’t answer at first. Her gaze flickers to the phone on the counter, to the situation she’s been trying to handle. I can tell she’s torn. She wants to run from this but doesn’t know if she’s allowed to.
Finally, she nods, just barely. “Okay.”
We don’t say much as we head out. I grab my keys, and Lo slips on her shoes. I drive slowly, taking my time, letting the quiet between us stretch. We don’t need words right now. We just need the space to breathe.
After a while, I take the long way out of town, turning off the main road toward a secluded spot by the river. One of my favorite places to think. It’s a place I’ve gone to for years when the world feels too loud, too demanding.
The trees stand tall, their branches reaching for the sky, and the river flows steadily beneath us, a constant reminder that everything keeps moving, even when we’re stuck.
I park the truck and kill the engine, letting the quiet settle between us. I turn to Lo, who’s lost in thought, staring out the window, her eyes distant.
“Want to talk?” I ask quietly, my words soft against the sound of the river flowing nearby.
Lo doesn’t respond immediately. She’s looking out the window, her gaze locked on the trees that surround the area, her thoughts clearly somewhere far away. Her family, the looming confrontation, is written all over her face, the quiet ache in her expression that no one ever sees.
I wish I could take that from her.
Shoulder every single burden so that she doesn’t have to any longer.
No wonder she always runs. She must feel like she’s suffocating if she’s not breathing hard through the running.
“I don’t think I want to talk,” she finally says as she edges closer to me, leaning her head on my shoulder. “I think I want to forget.”
The quiet stretches between us for a second before she tilts her head up and kisses me just beneath my jaw. It’s soft at first, her lips brushing my skin with hesitation, but then the pressure builds, and I feel that need I’ve been fighting against for too long.
I can’t hold my Alpha back any longer. She’s mine, and I need the world to know it.
I respond, pulling her closer until she’s seated in my lap like the good little Omega she is.
I feel the softness of her body press against mine, the tension in her shoulders finally giving way as she allows my strength to support her.
My heart pounds, and I lose myself for a moment in the simple feeling of being this close to her.
But then she moves, pushing me back against the truck seat, straddling me. She’s so close, her hips pressing against mine, and I can feel the pulse between us. She grins, all sharp edges and fire, as her hands slide up to my chest, undoing the buttons of my shirt with quick, eager fingers.
Her lips trail over my skin, down my neck, hot and searching as her teeth graze over my pulse point, and I can’t help but sigh as she moves, kissing along my neck, her hands sliding under my shirt, fingertips brushing over my bare skin. She moves with purpose.
She knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
“Lo…” I gasp, my hands grasping the excess of her hips, holding her in place as I try to control the rush of heat building between us.
My hips buck up against her clothed pussy.
And she’s relentless, pushing me further into the seat, grinding her warmth against me as her hands slide over my chest and down to my jeans. The heat of her touch burns through me. The need of my knot calls to me, drowning out all rational thought.
I have to knot her.
I have to mark her.
I have to show the town that she’s safe because of me. That I’ll always be in the shadows, keeping watch over her.
I lift my hands to her waist, pulling her closer, my breath catching as she grinds against me, a slow, teasing motion that makes my pulse spike.
“You’re killing me. You know that, little one?”
She looks at me, her grin wicked and full of promise. “Then let me finish the job.”
Her fingers edge under the waistband of my sweatpants, and she wraps her hand around my thick, throbbing, knotted length. The heat of my truck keeps us comfortable. It rocks with the sway of the whipping wind as her hand begins a slow, torturous rhythm. Damn near cruel, with how much I need her.
But as desire takes over, her movements become more urgent.
I fumble for her face, her hair, any part of her I can hold onto as the world narrows to the humid cab of the truck and the thudding scatter of her breath against my neck.
“Shit… Lo… my little one. Fuck.”
She presses her mouth to mine, open and hungry, and I quickly lose myself in the sensation. I roar as my sweatpants edge down to my thighs, my pulse pounding in my ears.
The pressure of pleasure starts to build as she clamps her teeth down on my shoulder. The pinch of pleasure, combined with pain, makes my head spin.
Holy shit.
She’s marking me.
Her Omega is getting territorial.
Fuck, yes.
My fingers grip the side of the seat so hard my knuckles turn white. I do everything I can to hold back, to keep the anticipation flowing for as long as I can, but Lo makes it impossible.
Both her hands wrap around my steel rod. Her tongue devours my earlobe, her hair brushes all over me.
And then, she bursts inside of my chest, like a bright white light that drowns out the darkness and shines over everything. Exposing everything. There’s a low simmering of anxiety, like she’s questioning every step, but I won’t let her.
I refuse to let her.
“Lo.” I can’t stop gasping her name. It’s a prayer, falling out of my lips. “Oh God, give me that neck. I need—I need—”
She already knows what I need.
Her body shifts, and my Alpha growls at losing her heat.
I want to mark her. I want to claim her in the way she’s just claimed me.
Her light pulses in my chest, and it’s so distracting that I don’t even realize she’s shifted her body so that her lips hover over the tip of my cock.
It isn’t until I feel her pulsing breath against my leaking precum that my gaze pulls down to her.
My perfect little Omega.
Marking me before I can mark her.
Her lips part before I can speak in a full sentence, and she draws me in, engulfing my cock in the warmth of her mouth.
“Good girl,” I whisper as she takes me down the back of her throat. My fingers intertwine with her hair at the nape of her neck as hollows out those pretty little cheeks of hers. “That’s it. Take me deeper, little one. I want to feel you gag.”
She obliges, not a hint of hesitation in her eyes.
Her throat constricts, swallowing around the tip of my cock as I guide her rhythm, slow and controlled at first, then building speed.
Her eyes glisten with unshed tears that eventually spill over, but she doesn’t falter.
It’s like she wants nothing more than to please me.
A low moan escapes her, vibrating around me as her saliva trickles down my balls. My hips begin to move, gentle thrusts at first. I feel the back of her throat tighten around me.
I’m teetering on the edge, the tension almost unbearable.
My grip on her hair hardens, my words ragged.
“I’m going to come,” I rasp. “Going to fill that beautiful mouth of yours, little one.”
She moans in response, taking me even deeper.
And it’s all I need to burst.
My orgasm crashes over me with a primal groan, my hips jerking as I pulse, hot and relentless, into her mouth.
I feel her swallowing. Feel her humming.
I feel the burst of her pride in my chest, and it brings tears to my eyes.
My Lo, seated so deep within me that we’ll never be separated again.
Even if she runs. Even if she leaves, she’ll always be there.
My little one.
She swallows it all, every last thick spurt of arousal, her eyes locked onto mine as if she craves it, as if it sustains her.
As if it’s the only thing she needs to live.
When I’m finally spent, she pulls back slowly, a thin pearlescent strand connecting that pouty lower lip of hers to the tip of my dick for one suspended moment before breaking.
Her tongue, pink and glistening, traces the curve of her swollen lips, catching the remnants that cling there, like she can’t get enough.
Her eyes, heavy lidded and dark with satisfaction, never leave mine as she swallows deliberately, the delicate muscles of her throat working as if savoring the last bites of a decadent dessert that she wishes would never end.
I reach down and hoist her against me, holding her close as her tongue starts laving over the mating mark she left behind on the crook of my neck.
The feeling of her ragged breathing, getting lost in the settled pride of her bright white light that cuts through every single shred of shadow that I’ve always kept close.
But I can’t get too lost in those thoughts. Not when I have something nagging me, tugging at the back of my brain.
There’s something I haven’t told her; the secret I’ve kept for way too many years. It may not matter much any longer, since she’s marked me, but she deserves to know all of it.
Eventually, I’m going to have to tell her the truth about our scent match—about how long I’ve known.
Sooner rather than later, if the mark at the crook of my neck is any indication of where we’re headed.