11. Cayenne
Chapter 11
Cayenne
Indecision is a special kind of hell. The kind that turns your stomach into a mosh pit and your brain into a badly coded loop. Stay or go. Go or stay. The options chase each other through my mind like corrupted data, never reaching a resolution.
My reflection stares back at me from the bathroom mirror for the hundredth time tonight, accusation in its eyes. I’ve been stress-plucking my eyebrows, and now one has that stupid little notch all the TikTok kids are doing on purpose. Great. Nothing says emotional stability like anxiety-induced cosmetic modifications at 3 AM.
I am not some dumb kid making impulsive decisions. I am a woman with... who am I kidding, I’m absolutely making impulsive decisions.
Back in my room—not my room, the room they gave me—I glare at my belongings scattered across the floor in precise piles. Each item exactly where I placed it, a visual representation of my paralysis. Pack them away or put them in drawers. Commit or run.
The need for my girls hits like a denial of service attack, sudden and devastating. They’re not just my friends, they’re my firewall against bad decisions, my backup system when everything goes sideways.
My eyes land on the emerald beanie, soft as a whispered secret. I clutch it to my chest like a lifeline, breathing in traces of Jinx’s scent still lingering in the wool. The hat represents everything I’m afraid to want—pack, belonging, connection.
Fuck it.
I march upstairs before I can overthink it, right to Theo’s door. My knuckles hit wood before my brain catches up with my body. The floor creaks on the other side and my heart seems to stutter-stop before launching into triple-time, each beat hitting so hard I half-expect to see my shirt moving with the impact.
I’m a bad bitch. I hack corporate giants and take bullets for pack members. I do not chicken out at omega’s doors at 3 AM.
Much.
When Theo opens the door, he’s shirtless in grey sweats because apparently the universe has decided I haven’t suffered enough tonight. Celtic knots dance across his chest, begging to be traced with fingers. Or tongue.
“Jinx made this?” The words tumble out before I can stop them, hat still crushed to my chest like a shield.
“Do you know it’s three in the morning?” He leans against the doorframe with that omega grace that makes my mouth go dry. His scent wraps around me—vanilla and night-blooming jasmine with an undertone that whispers of secrets.
“Also no, I have no fucking idea what time it is.” I clutch the beanie tighter, using it to anchor myself against the wave of his scent. “Time is a social construct invented by people who aren’t having emotional crises.”
“You know you could just ask him.” Theo nods toward Jinx’s door across the hall, where soft light bleeds under the frame like a beckoning finger.
“I...” The word sticks in my throat. Why can’t I? The answer probably requires therapy and a six-pack to unpack. “Can’t.”
“Come on.” He tugs me into his nest, the door clicking shut behind us with quiet finality. “What’s going on?”
“Can’t sleep.” The answer is both truth and deflection.
“That much is apparent.” Amusement colors his tone as I face-plant into his nest.
Last time I was here, the mingled pack scents knocked me out like the world’s most effective sedative. Tonight, they just make my skin crawl with awareness, with wanting, with wondering if I’ll ever truly belong among them.
I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling as if it might hold answers. The friendship bracelet on my wrist suddenly feels heavy, a reminder of everything I’m afraid of losing.
“I need to make a call.” The admission costs me something.
“Ah.” Theo settles beside me, propped on one elbow as he looks down with those dark eyes that see too much.
I trace the lines of his tattoo to avoid meeting his gaze. “Ah,” I echo, because apparently my stellar conversational skills have abandoned me along with my sanity.
“Why?” Just one word, but it carries the weight of everything I’m not saying.
Maybe it’s exhaustion. Maybe it’s the partial claim mark still tingling on my neck. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me like he already knows all my secrets but wants me to tell him anyway.
“I miss my girls.” The truth spills out like blood from a wound. “There are just some things I can’t talk to you guys about and I just...” I fidget with the bracelet, remembering how I’d complained through its entire creation. Now I’d give anything to be back in that moment, surrounded by friendship and certainty.
“Hey.” His fingers catch my chin with an artist’s precision, the same delicate touch he uses on piano keys. When he swipes away a tear I didn’t know had fallen, the gesture feels like a melody. “Alright.”
“Wait, what?” Hope blooms dangerous and bright in my chest.
“Not right now.” His smirk carries notes of mischief. “It’s three in the morning.”
“Oh, how dare you come at me with logic.” But I lean into his touch, letting it ground me like a perfect chord progression.
“Give me until the afternoon and I’ll find a way for you to chat with your friends.” His palm cups my cheek, thumb tracing patterns that feel like music against my skin. “Some songs need harmony to be complete.”
“Thank you.” The whisper carries more vulnerability than I intend.
“You’re special, you know.” The words flow like lyrics, his voice dropping to that register that makes omegas so deadly. “A spark of chaos in our ordered composition.”
Something shifts in the air between us. Usually, our moments together are peaceful, comfortable—the quiet movement in a larger symphony. But tonight feels different. Electric. Like the moment before a crescendo breaks.
I find myself staring at his lips, wondering if they’d taste as sweet as his scent. If kissing him would feel like dancing, like music made flesh.
His scent deepens, night-blooming jasmine turning heady and rich. The shift makes my stomach flutter with anticipation.
“Cayenne.” My name becomes an aria in his mouth, full of promise and passion. “I’m going to kiss you now.”
He doesn’t move to claim my mouth immediately. Instead, his fingers trail from my cheek to my throat in a slow glissando that makes my pulse jump. Like any true artist, he’s savoring the anticipation, composing each moment with deliberate grace.
His other hand slides into my hair, angling my head just so. The position should feel vulnerable—me on my back in his nest, him hovering above me like a gathering storm. Instead, it feels like the opening notes of something magnificent.
When his lips finally brush mine, it’s devastating in its gentleness. A taste, a tease, a promise of more. He pulls back just enough to gauge my reaction, those dark eyes holding secrets I desperately want to learn.
“More,” I demand, threading my fingers through his hair.
His laugh vibrates against my lips. “So impatient.” But he obliges, capturing my mouth again with more intent.
This kiss is different from any we’ve shared before. There’s no comfort-seeking, no pack dynamics at play. This is pure want, rising between us like a symphony reaching its peak. His tongue traces the seam of my lips and I open for him, letting him set the rhythm.
He tastes like midnight and magic, like every dark dream I’ve ever had about him made real. One of his hands slides down my side, finding the strip of skin where my shirt has ridden up. The touch sends electricity dancing across my nerve endings.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs against my lips. “My fierce little beta, always rushing headlong into danger.” His teeth graze my bottom lip. “Let me show you how to slow dance with it instead.”
The playful threat sends heat spiraling through me. His hands slide under my shirt, fingertips tracing patterns on my skin that make me arch into his touch. When I tug at his hair, trying to urge him faster, he just smiles against my mouth.
“Patience,” he whispers, pulling back just enough to strip my shirt over my head. His eyes darken as they roam over newly exposed skin. “I want to savor this.”
I reach for him, but he catches my wrists, pinning them gently above my head. “Let me play with you,” he says, and the hunger in his voice makes me shiver. His free hand trails down my arm, across my collarbone, between my breasts. “Let me learn what makes you come undone.”
“Theo...” My voice catches as his mouth follows the path his fingers blazed, hot and wet against my skin.
“Shhh.” His tongue flicks across my nipple and my back bows off the bed. “Just feel.”
He takes his time exploring my body, learning me with lips and teeth and tongue until I’m writhing beneath him. Every touch feels deliberate, purposeful, like he’s memorizing each spot that makes me gasp.
When his mouth closes over my breast, sucking hard while his fingers roll my other nipple, coherent thought becomes impossible. My hands fist in his hair, holding him closer as pleasure builds like lightning under my skin.
“Please,” I manage, though I’m not even sure what I’m begging for.
He lifts his head, eyes dark with desire. “Tell me what you need.”
The question hangs between us, heavy with promise. His omega scent has grown stronger, sweeter, filling the room with notes of jasmine and desire. It makes my head spin, my body respond in ways I didn’t expect with a beta’s biology.
“Everything,” I breathe, tugging him back down. “You. This.”
His laugh is low and wicked against my skin. “So greedy.” But his own need betrays him—I can feel his hardness against me, his sweatpants already damp where omega slick leaks from his cock like sweet pre-come. The scent of his arousal fills the air, making my mouth water. It’s different from a beta’s response—richer, headier—his omega biology designed to tempt and entice, igniting a flame deep inside me.
He grinds against me slightly, and I can feel more slick coating him, making the fabric cling to his length. The intimate evidence of how much he wants this, wants me.
He slides lower, trailing open-mouthed kisses down my stomach. His hands hook into my sleep shorts, dragging them down my legs with agonizing slowness. When he settles between my thighs, looking up at me with those dark eyes, I almost combust on the spot.
“I’ve thought about this,” he admits, pressing a kiss to my inner thigh. “About how you’d taste. The sounds you’d make for me.” His tongue flicks out, a teasing taste that makes my hips buck. “About making you fall apart on my tongue.”
“Less talking,” I manage, threading my fingers into his hair. “More— oh fuck.”
He licks into me like he’s been starving for it, like he’s been dreaming of this moment. Each stroke of his tongue is precise, purposeful, finding spots that make me see stars. When he seals his mouth over my clit and sucks, I practically levitate off the bed.
“Just like that,” he murmurs against me, one arm draped over my hips to hold me still. “Let me hear you.”
My fingers tighten in his hair as he slides two fingers inside me, curling them just right. The dual sensation of his mouth and fingers makes my thighs tremble. Each touch builds the pressure higher, tighter, until I’m gasping his name like a prayer.
“Close?” he asks, but he already knows the answer. He can feel how I’m clenching around his fingers, how my body’s winding tighter with each stroke of his tongue.
“Yes—please—” The words break on a moan as he increases his pace.
“Come for me,” he commands, the vibration of his voice sending shockwaves through my core. “Want to feel you fall apart on my tongue.”
The orgasm hits me like a tidal wave, my back arching as pleasure crashes through me. He works me through it relentlessly, not letting up until I’m trembling and oversensitive.
When he finally pulls back, his chin glistening with evidence of my pleasure, the sight makes my stomach clench with renewed want. His omega scent has grown impossibly richer, and I can see his cock straining against his sweatpants, the fabric dark with slick.
“My turn,” I manage, reaching for him. The heat in his eyes as I pull him up for a kiss makes me burn.
“Careful, little beta,” he warns, even as he lets me flip our positions. “I’ve got plans for you.”
“My plans might be better,” I say, tugging at his sweatpants. He lifts his hips, letting me strip them off, and I can’t help but stare. His cock lies hard against his stomach, glistening with omega slick, practically begging to be touched.
When I wrap my hand around him, his sharp intake of breath makes desire coil tight in my core. The slick makes my grip glide smooth and easy as I stroke him, learning what makes his breath catch, what makes his hips buck.
“Sensitive here?” I ask, running my thumb over his tip where more slick beads. His whole body shudders in response.
“You have no idea,” he groans, head falling back against the pillows. “Been wanting your hands on me for so long.”
The confession makes something warm bloom in my chest. I lean down, replacing my hand with my mouth, and the sound he makes is pure sin. The taste of him explodes on my tongue—sweeter than a beta, addictive in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
His hands tangle in my hair as I take him deeper, encouraged by the way his thighs tremble under my palms. More slick coats my tongue with each bob of my head, and I can feel him fighting to keep still.
“Fuck,” he gasps when I hollow my cheeks. “Your mouth—I can’t?—”
I pull off just long enough to say, “Then don’t.” Before taking him deep again, humming around his length.
His grip tightens in my hair. “Wait,” he manages, though his voice is wrecked. “Want to be inside you when I come.”
The words send electricity down my spine. I let him pull me up, gasping when he flips us over in one smooth motion.
“Need you,” he breathes against my mouth. “Need to feel you around me.”
The weight of him pressing me into the nest makes my head spin. Every point of contact burns—his chest against mine, his hands gripping my hips, his cock sliding against me where I’m still sensitive from his mouth.
“Then take me,” I challenge, arching up to nip at his bottom lip.
His laugh holds an edge of desperation. “Not yet.” His mouth finds my pulse point, sucking hard enough to mark. “Want you desperate for it first.”
Before I can protest, he’s moving down my body again, leaving a trail of bites and kisses that make me squirm. When he reaches my breasts, he takes his time—alternating between gentle and rough until I’m gasping his name.
“Please,” I manage when he scrapes his teeth across a particularly sensitive spot.
“Not yet,” he repeats, sliding lower. His tongue traces patterns on my stomach that make my muscles jump. “Still haven’t learned all your sweet spots.”
I can feel his slick dripping onto my thigh where his cock presses against me, making me ache to have him inside. But every time I try to rush him, he just holds me down and goes slower.
“Theo—” His name breaks on a moan as he slides two fingers back inside me, curling them just right while his thumb circles my clit.
“Yes?” He sounds far too composed for someone leaking slick all over my leg. “Something you want?”
“You know what I want.”
“Do I?” His fingers twist inside me, making my back bow. “Tell me. In detail.”
“Want you to fuck me,” I gasp as he adds a third finger, stretching me deliciously. “Want to feel you inside me, want?—”
He cuts me off with a kiss that steals my breath. When he pulls back, his eyes are almost black with desire.
“Since you asked so nicely...”
He lines himself up, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. Even here I can feel how slick he is, how ready. When he starts pushing in, we both groan at the stretch, the fullness, the perfect way he fills me.
“Fuck,” he breathes, trembling with the effort of going slow. “You feel incredible.”
Every inch sends sparks of pleasure up my spine. By the time he’s fully seated, we’re both panting. His omega slick makes everything deliciously wet, each small movement smooth and electric.
“Move,” I demand, wrapping my legs around his waist.
Instead of the hard thrust I expect, he rolls his hips in a slow grind that hits spots I didn’t even know I had. Each stroke is deliberate, measured, driving me slowly but surely toward madness.
“Like this?” he asks, voice rough as he pulls almost all the way out before sliding deep again. “Or like this?” The next thrust comes harder, making me cry out.
“Both,” I manage, digging my nails into his shoulders. “Everything. Just don’t stop.”
His laugh turns into a moan as I clench around him. “Not stopping. Could fuck you for hours like this.” He punctuates the words with a particularly deep thrust. “One of the perks of omega stamina. Can come and keep going, stay hard inside you until you’re begging for mercy.”
The promise in his words sends warmth spiraling through me. Each thrust gets harder, faster, his control starting to slip as pleasure builds between us. His slick makes obscene sounds with every movement, adding to the symphony of our shared pleasure.
“Close?” he asks, sliding a hand between us to work my clit.
“Yes—fuck—” The dual stimulation has me riding the edge. “Theo, please.”
“Come for me,” he growls, abandoning his careful rhythm for something harder, deeper. “Want to feel you come on my cock before I fill you up.”
His words and touch send me over the edge, my release hitting hard as I cry out his name. He follows right after, groaning as he spills inside me, his body trembling against mine.
But true to his word, he stays hard, his hips still moving in slow, deep rolls that make me gasp. The oversensitivity only heightens each sensation as he builds a new rhythm.
“Told you,” he murmurs against my throat, voice rough with pleasure. “Could do this all night.”
Each thrust sends aftershocks through me, building toward something even more intense. His hands find mine, pinning them beside my head as he changes the angle, making me arch and cry out.
“Beautiful,” he breathes, watching me come apart beneath him. “Want to see you fall apart again. And again.”
The promise in his voice, combined with the relentless movement of his hips, has pressure building impossibly fast. Everything feels more intense, more overwhelming, my body responding to his like we were made for this.
“Please,” I gasp, not even sure what I’m begging for anymore.
His response is to move faster, deeper, driving us both toward another peak. “Together this time,” he demands, his voice wrecked with need, and the command makes me clench around him, drawing a groan from deep in his chest.
His rhythm turns punishing, each thrust perfectly aimed to drive me mad. I can feel him trembling with his own need, omega slick making everything impossibly wet and perfect as he takes me harder.
“Look at me,” he orders, and when I meet his gaze, the intensity there steals my breath. “Want to watch you when you come this time.”
One of his hands slides down my body, finding where we’re joined. His clever fingers circle my clit in time with his thrusts, and the dual sensation has me crying out.
“That’s it,” he encourages, his own voice tight with need. “So close, I can feel you tightening around me. Give in to it.”
“Theo—” His name breaks on a moan as pleasure coils tighter, threatening to snap.
“Now,” he demands, driving deep. “Come with me.”
The command, combined with a particularly perfect thrust, sends me spiraling. This orgasm hits even harder than the first, making me arch and cry out his name. He follows immediately, groaning as he fills me again, his hips still moving in short, deep thrusts that prolong our pleasure.
When awareness seeps back in, I find him watching me with an expression I can’t quite read. His body still covers mine, still joined, and I can feel him hardening again despite our shared release.
“What?” I ask, reaching up to trace the sharp line of his jaw.
Something vulnerable flickers across his face. “I’ve never...” He breaks off, swallowing hard. “You’re the first woman I’ve been with.”
The confession catches me off guard. “But you’re so...”
“Experienced?” His laugh holds a hint of self-consciousness. “With men, yes. But women...” He rolls his hips slightly, making us both gasp. “You’re different. Special.”
The admission makes something warm bloom in my chest. I pull him down for a kiss that starts gentle but quickly turns heated as he starts moving again.
“Show me,” I breathe against his mouth. “Show me everything you want to try.”
His eyes darken at the invitation. “Everything?”
“Everything.” I arch into him, drawing a groan from deep in his chest. “Teach me how to please you while you learn me.”
“Fuck,” he breathes, and then he’s kissing me like he’s drowning, like I’m air. His next thrust comes harder, deeper, omega slick easing the way as he takes what he wants. “Going to ruin you for anyone else.”
“Not if I ruin you first.” In one quick move, I flip our positions, savoring his surprised gasp as I settle on top of him. His hands fly to my hips, fingers pressing into my skin as I start to move.
“Show me,” I challenge, rolling my hips in a way that makes his eyes roll back. “Show me what you like.”
He guides my movements, teaching me the rhythm that makes him fall apart. Each roll of my hips draws more slick from him, making everything deliciously wet. When I lean down to kiss him, the angle changes, drawing moans from us both.
“Just like that,” he encourages, voice wrecked as I ride him harder. “You feel so?—”
The door flies open with a bang.
“Theo, we need—” Ryker’s voice cuts off as he takes in the scene before him. His nostrils flare, scenting the air thick with sex and omega arousal.
But it’s the look in his eyes that makes my breath catch—not shock or embarrassment, but something darker. Something hungry.
“Well,” Theo purrs beneath me, not stopping the movement of his hips. “Are you going to stand there all night, alpha? Or are you going to join us?”
Ryker’s eyes darken, tracking a bead of sweat as it rolls down my spine. For a moment, the air grows thick with possibility, with want. His scent fills the room—cedar with notes that command attention—making my breath catch.
But then he shakes his head, a small smile playing at his lips. “Not tonight.” His voice comes out rough, betraying his affect. “When I have you, little beta, it’ll be just us. Want to take my time learning every inch of you without distraction.”
The promise in his words sends liquid fire through my veins. Theo’s hands tighten on my hips, reminding me he’s still buried deep inside me.
“Spoilsport,” Theo teases, but there’s understanding in his voice.
“We’ll talk in the morning,” Ryker says, already backing toward the door. But his eyes meet mine one last time, carrying a promise that makes me shiver. “Sweet dreams.”
The door closes with a soft click, but the tension he leaves behind crackles like electricity.
“Now,” Theo growls, flipping us back over. “Where were we?”