Chapter 8 #3
“What are you—I can walk!” I protested, though my arms automatically wrapped around his neck for stability. “It’s just water! I don’t need to be carried like some—”
“Like some omega who can barely stand?” he asked mildly, wading into the pond with sure steps. “Because that’s exactly what you are right now, little wildcat.”
Little wildcat. Even when I’m weak as a kitten, he still calls me that. Though being carried while naked against his equally naked chest is sending all sorts of confusing signals to my exhausted brain.
The shock of cool water against my legs made me gasp and instinctively press closer to his warmth. His arms tightened around me, one hand splaying across my lower back while the other supported my thighs.
“Easy,” he murmured against my ear, his breath warm against my skin. “I’ve got you.”
He’s got me. Literally and figuratively. When’s the last time someone said that and actually meant it?
He lowered me gradually into the water, keeping his hands on my waist to steady me as my feet touched the smooth stones of the pond bottom. Even with his support, I swayed slightly, my legs feeling unreliable beneath me.
“This is humiliating,” I muttered, letting my head fall forward against his shoulder when another wave of weakness hit. “I used to be able to walk and bathe myself like a functional human being.”
“You still can,” he said quietly, his mouth close enough to my ear that I could feel his lips brush my skin. “You’re just recovering from something that would flatten most omegas completely. The fact that you’re conscious at all is impressive.”
Right. Like being a dizzy, weak mess who needs alpha assistance to stand in a pond is some kind of achievement.
“I don’t feel impressive,” I admitted, too exhausted to maintain my usual defensive snark. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck driven by my own biology.”
“Military suppressants are designed to completely override omega physiology,” Marco explained, wading closer with soap in hand. “Your body is essentially rebooting its entire hormonal system. Of course you feel like hell.”
“Here,” Matteo said, appearing at my other side with a bottle of shampoo. “Let us take care of you.”
The offer should have made me bristle with indignation, should have triggered every defensive instinct I possessed. Instead, the gentle tone and the way Stefano’s arms tightened protectively around me made something deep in my chest uncurl with relief.
When’s the last time anyone offered to take care of me? When’s the last time I felt safe enough to let them?
“I can do it myself,” I said, but the words came out soft and uncertain rather than defiant. “I don’t need…”
“You don’t need help,” Stefano finished for me, his voice understanding rather than mocking. “But you can accept it anyway. Just this once.”
Yea, like this is a temporary concession rather than me completely surrendering what little independence I have left.
Before I could overthink it further, Marco’s hands were in my hair, fingers working shampoo through the strands with deliberate care. His nails scraped lightly against my scalp, sending shivers down my spine that had nothing to do with the cool water.
“Feel good?” he asked, his voice warm with amusement as my head fell back into his touch without permission.
“Shut up,” I mumbled, but the words came out breathless when his fingers found that spot at the base of my skull that made tension I didn’t know I was carrying dissolve.
Stefano’s chest rumbled with amusement against my back, his arms tightening around my waist as I sagged into their combined touch. “Such a responsive little wildcat,” he murmured against my ear. “Always fighting what feels good.”
That’s exactly what I’m doing, and I can’t seem to stop myself from losing.
When Matteo’s soap-slicked hands slid across my shoulders, I bit back a sigh of relief.
His touch was firm, clinical, fingers working the knots from muscles that had been tense for longer than I cared to admit.
When his thumbs pressed into the spots where my neck met my shoulders, I couldn’t stop the soft sound of relief that escaped.
“You carry all your stress here,” he observed quietly, working at a particularly tight spot until I nearly melted against Stefano. “When’s the last time anyone took care of you properly?”
The answer is never, but I’m not about to admit that to three alphas who are already treating me like some fragile thing that needs protecting.
“I don’t need taking care of,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction when Matteo’s skilled fingers were turning my spine to jelly.
“Everyone needs taking care of,” Marco said gently, rinsing the shampoo from my hair with careful attention. “Even stubborn omegas who think they have to handle everything alone.”
“Such pretty marks,” Marco continued, one hand leaving my hair to trace the tender spots on my throat where Stefano had bitten me. “They’re healing well.”
“They’re embarrassing,” I managed, though I made no move to stop his careful examination.
“They’re beautiful,” Stefano corrected against my neck, pressing a soft kiss to a spot he hadn’t marked. “Evidence that you’re cared for. Protected.”
Like these marks are some kind of shield rather than just evidence of my complete surrender to three alphas who know exactly how to make me melt.
Everything was going smoothly until the dogs decided to join our bathing session. Apollo and Zeus bounded into the water with joyful barks, immediately swimming enthusiastic circles around us. Their playful splashing sent ripples across the surface, creating shadows and movement everywhere.
“At least someone’s having fun,” I muttered, watching Zeus paddle past with his tongue lolling out happily.
The dogs’ presence should have been comforting—familiar faces in this sea of alpha overwhelm. Instead, their vigorous swimming was stirring up the pond bottom, creating murky swirls and disturbing whatever lived beneath the surface.
That’s when I felt something brush against my leg.
Something that definitely wasn’t a dog paw or alpha hand. Something that slithered and moved with its own agenda, trailing along my calf like a wet rope before disappearing into the murky water.
Pure instinct took over. Every horror movie I’d ever watched, every nightmare about things lurking beneath the surface, crashed into my consciousness at once. I didn’t think—I just reacted, lunging toward the nearest solid object with a strangled yelp of terror.
That solid object happened to be Stefano.
I hit him with the force of a panicked missile, arms wrapping around his neck, legs clamping around his waist like a desperate koala. My entire front pressed against his chest, wet skin sliding against wet skin, my body molding to his with embarrassing completeness.
Oh fuck. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m clinging to him like a scared child. This is the most humiliating thing that has ever happened to me, and that’s saying something given recent events.
“Something touched me!” I gasped against his neck, my voice higher than usual with panic. “There are things in the water! Something slimy! It touched my leg!”
Stefano’s arms came around me automatically, one hand splaying across my lower back while the other cupped the back of my head. His chest rumbled with barely suppressed laughter, but his hold was steady, secure.
“Probably just pond weeds or a stick stirred up by the dogs,” he murmured, his mouth close to my ear. “Nothing dangerous, little wildcat.”
Pond weeds. Right. I just koala-hugged a naked alpha because of some aquatic vegetation. My dignity wasn’t just dead—it had been cremated and scattered to the winds.
The position put us in intimate contact from chest to hip, my legs wrapped around his waist, his hands on my skin. I could feel every inch of him—the hard planes of his chest, the ridged muscle of his abs, and something else pressing against my inner thigh that definitely wasn’t harmless.
“Let me go,” I whispered, though I made no move to unwrap myself from around him. My body seemed to have developed a mind of its own, content to stay pressed against all that warm, solid muscle.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made my toes curl. “You seemed pretty convinced there were water monsters a moment ago. Shouldn’t I protect you from the terrifying fish?”
Like the most dangerous thing in this pond isn’t the alpha I’m currently wrapped around like a wet octopus.
“Still just fish.” Marco’s amused voice broke the moment, reminding me that we had an audience for this latest display of my complete lack of self-preservation. “Though I have to say, your problem-solving technique is… creative.”
I jerked back from Stefano, or tried to, but his arms remained locked around me. “Let me go,” I hissed, mortification burning through me as I realized Marco and Matteo had witnessed the entire pathetic display. “This is embarrassing enough without commentary from the peanut gallery.”
“I don’t think so,” Stefano said, his voice carrying that note of possession that made my stomach flutter despite my best efforts. “I rather like having you exactly where you are.”
“The water weeds are gone,” Marco pointed out with obvious amusement. “Whatever aquatic terror you were fleeing has been thoroughly vanquished by your dramatic rescue response.”
“It’s not funny,” I protested, though my voice lacked conviction when I was still wrapped around Stefano like a desperate octopus. “Something slimy touched me! It could have been anything!”
“It could have been,” Stefano agreed, his hands sliding down to cup my ass possessively. “But now you’re safe. Protected. Exactly where you belong.”
Where I belong. Wrapped around him like some needy omega who can’t handle a little pond vegetation without having a complete meltdown.
Apollo chose that moment to swim over and investigate our embrace, his wet nose bumping against my shoulder with obvious curiosity.