2. Cayenne
Chapter 2
Cayenne
I fucked up.
My stomach caves in on itself, leaden and cold. I curl my fingers into my palms, nails digging half-moons into the flesh. Okay, I didn’t just fuck up—I made epically bad decisions, and right now I’m facing that legendary find out stage. The warning signs had flashed neon-bright. The risks had screamed in capital letters. And I’d grinned and sprinted right past them anyway, middle fingers raised.
Voices ricochet off the conference room walls, each syllable a bullet finding its mark. The leather chair grows slick beneath my sweating palms. I shrink two inches smaller with each accusation hurled across the polished mahogany. The room’s temperature seems to drop with every disappointed glance, until I’m fifteen again—slouched in the principal’s office, watching adults discuss my future while the Highway to Hell incident report sits between us like a bomb.
I should feel bad about this. And I do. I totally do.
At no point did I think about all the omegas in the building I put in danger.
That is absolutely on me.
I accept that, and I do feel awful about it.
But at the same time, my chest burns with the truth of why I did it. I’m out here trying to save my own kind—betas who keep getting mysteriously ill after we shut down those trafficking rings. The ones Sterling Labs swoops in to treat . The ones everyone else seems content to write off as coincidence.
I’m living a catch-22.
What I’m most upset about is hurting Willow.
She stands at the front of the conference table, her big cushy chair pushed in, palms pressed against the polished surface, head hanging down. She looks defeated. Broken. And I did that. I put that look on her face with my reckless need to rush in and save everyone.
Hell, the drive in my pocket weighs heavy, a constant reminder. The same drive that proves Sterling Labs isn’t just treating sick betas—they’re creating them. And sharing my last name with them isn’t feeling like such a coincidence anymore.
My ears begin to buzz, and I swear I can feel my heart pulsing in my head as everyone in the room shouts around me. The words blur together into a symphony of disappointment and rage.
I need to get out of here.
Tossing the drive on the table, I abruptly stand. All around me, the shouting stops. My bestie Aria looks up, her eyes tired and red-rimmed. Not from crying—no, just because she’s been up all night cleaning up my mess. Again. At the head of the table, her mate Malachi looks at me with those soulful eyes of his, one eyebrow raised in silent question.
“Ladies’ room.” I clear my throat and head for the door. Everyone’s eyes follow me as I walk away. I can feel their stares burning between my shoulder blades, but I keep my head held high as I exit the sterile room and step into the hallway.
Out here, I finally let the air escape my lungs.
Puritan Alpha Security headquarters. It’s a brand new space, clean and smelling of fresh paint and money. Lucky me being a beta—I can’t smell the overpowering pheromones I know everyone else is drowning in.
“Fuck, where the hell is the bathroom?” I run my hands through my long red hair and twist it over my shoulder. “Right or left. Right or left.”
I dart left, taking a chance. My bare feet slap against the tile flooring because fuck shoes. They’re a social construct anyway, just like my impulse control. As I round a corner, I spot the signs for the bathrooms.
Alpha, Beta, and Omega bathrooms.
I have no idea if that was Malachi’s choice, but at the end of the day, it was still a choice. One that makes my blood boil.
Look, I love Aria. She’s my best friend, and I adore her and her pack of alphas and omegas. But this segregation bullshit? It’s exactly what lets Sterling Labs treat betas like we’re disposable. Like we’re somehow worth less than everyone else.
Today I’m an alpha.
I slam through the alpha bathroom door.
It’s... not at all what I expected. Spacious. Each stall is like a little room of its own. None of which I actually need to use. I just need a sink to fill with water to drown myself in.
Not really. But the guilt is now spreading through my veins like poison, and I don’t know how to handle that shit.
There are a few sinks along one wall, so I head there and turn the cold water on full blast, hanging my head as the words from the meeting room echo through my mind.
“You put everyone in that building in danger!”
“Sterling Labs’ security isn’t like other corporations!”
“Banned.”
“Do you know what they do to people who hack them?”
“Beta lives are at stake!” I tried to argue. No one cared.
“How could you not think through your actions?”
“You’ve gone too far this time. Too damn far.”
“Fuck.” I curse to myself and rest my forehead against the cool glass. I know my weaknesses, and one of those is getting too caught up in the moment to remember that my actions have consequences. That other people have to deal with the fallout of my brilliant ideas.
A toilet flushes.
Of course I’m not alone. Because the universe has a sick sense of humor and apparently decided I haven’t been humbled enough today.
I splash water on my face as the stall door creaks open.
I hear him first. The swagger in his walk—it’s in the way his feet shuffle along the floor with predatory grace. Then the sink turns on beside me.
Water drips from my face as I blink in the mirror, my own green eyes glaring accusations back at me.
I take a chance and peek at the guy beside me as I inhale slowly. Warmth floods my senses—cherry tobacco and worn leather, with something wild underneath like gunpowder or a recent fight. The scent curls around my throat and settles in my lungs, bringing memories of campfire stories and dangerous men. It’s muted at the edges, my beta senses catching only fragments of what an omega would drown in.
In an alpha bathroom.
Which makes him an?—
“You’re staring.” His voice is a deep rumble, almost a growl that rolls through me, causing my nipples to bead and press against my bra. There’s something unhinged in his tone, like he’s barely keeping something wild contained.
Well, since I’m already in trouble... I lick my lips, shut off the sink, and grab a paper towel. Leaning against the counter, I wipe my hands, still staring at the alpha dressed in leather pants, a tight white shirt covered in stains, and a leather jacket.
He is my perfect wet dream walking.
“I like to look at fuckable men.” I toss my paper towel in the trash. Honestly surprised with myself that I sink it right in the garbage.
Tilting his head to the side, his lips kick up in a smirk that’s all bad boy challenge. Tattoos lick at the side of his neck, and dark hair sweeps across his forehead in a way that should be illegal in at least three states.
Biting his lip, he turns to me. “I like to look at fuckable women.” His eyes roll over me, head to toe and back again, like he’s cataloging every inch for future reference.
A reckless part of me—the one I always have to keep reined in—perks her head up.
I could use a distraction. A really bad decision to cap off my night of spectacular bad decisions.
“Tell me something,” I use the voice no man has ever been able to say no to, that gritty smokey voice that sounds like sex personified. “Is all this,” I wave my hand up and down his outfit, “just for show?”
“You’re purposely trying to manipulate me.” His voice reverberates through my chest, bass notes that make my sternum vibrate. He steps closer, the air around us growing denser, harder to breathe. The temperature rises three degrees from his presence alone.
He towers over me, shoulders blocking the light, muscles shifting under his shirt like something barely contained. Built like an Olympic swimmer who fights in underground rings on weekends. Exactly what I need to get my mind off my major fuck up. No name, no strings, no complications.
Just pure, physical distraction.
“Of course I am,” I scoff. “I want you to rail me in this bathroom, and this small talk is only wasting my time.”
He belly laughs—an absolute belly laugh that edges into something darker, more feral. It’s the kind of laugh that should make me run, not lean closer. “Oh sweetheart,” he purrs, but it comes out like a growl, “you really should be more careful what you ask for. Some of us aren’t quite... stable.” The way he says it makes my skin prickle with equal parts fear and arousal.
“Still trying to make small talk.” I tease him.
“A beta in an alpha bathroom asking to get fucked.” He runs a thumb along his bottom lip in contemplation, but his pupils dilate, and he takes another step toward me.
Hook. Line. And sinker.
“What’ll it be, alpha ?” Okay, that last word was the hook.
He moves with alpha speed that makes the air displacement hit me before his actual touch does—a pressure wave of intention that triggers an instantaneous beta response. My pupils dilate so quickly my vision blurs at the edges, a rush of wetness flooding between my legs before his fingers even find my hair. When they do, he applies just enough pressure against my scalp to send electric currents racing down my spine, that exquisite threshold where pain transforms directly into pleasure without ever crossing the line.
“You have no idea what kind of monster you’re playing with, little beta,” he growls, voice carrying that edge of instability that should send her running. “I break pretty things like you.”
He shoves me against the sink, his other hand finding my throat with practiced ease. The contrast between the cold porcelain at my back and his burning touch makes me shiver.
“I don’t break.” The words escape as a ragged gasp, my throat constricting under his grip.
“Either you are a fool or reckless,” he whispers, close enough that every word brushes against my lips like a promise. “Anyone could come in here, and here you are offering up your sweet pussy to me on a platter.” The last word comes out as a growl that vibrates through every inch of me.
My skin pebbles into goosebumps, a trail of electricity darting from my neck to my core. My heart slams against my ribs so hard I wonder if he can see it through my shirt. My teeth find my lower lip, biting down until I taste copper. I’m playing with fire, reaching directly into flames—knowing I’ll burn but craving the heat anyway.
“Maybe I’m both,” I breathe, my lips barely brushing against his. “A reckless fool who knows exactly what she wants.” I lick my lips. “A fool who sees another that can give her exactly what she needs.”
His grip on my throat tightens just enough to make me gasp. The alpha’s eyes darken with desire, and I can see the internal struggle playing out on his face. He wants this as much as I do, but he’s fighting against his instincts.
“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he growls, his breath hot against my skin.
I arch my body into his, pressing myself against the hard planes of his chest. “Then show me.”
That’s all it takes. With a guttural sound that’s more animal than human, he crashes his lips against mine. The kiss is brutal, all teeth and tongue, and I match his intensity with my own. His hand leaves my throat to grab my ass, lifting me onto the sink counter.
My skin sparks and sizzles under his touch, every nerve ending lighting up like a live wire. Each point of contact threatens to shatter what little control I have left.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer as his lips trail down my neck. He nips at my pulse point, and I have to bite back a moan. We’re still in a public bathroom, after all.
Actually, fuck it—I let it loose, let it echo around us and drive us higher and higher.
His lips find mine again. He knows how to kiss, how to take pleasure just from my tongue. Sucking on it, he draws it out of my mouth, those eyes still open and locked on mine.
Hard and fast, that’s what I need right here, right now.
My hands grip his shirt, drawing him even closer.
His hands are everywhere, rough and demanding, as if he’s trying to claim every inch of my body. I fumble with his belt, desperate to feel him skin to skin. The clink of metal echoes in the tiled room as I finally manage to undo it.
“Impatient little beta,” he growls against my neck, his teeth grazing my skin.
I shiver, both from his words and his touch. “Less talking, more fucking,” I breathe, arching into him.
He chuckles, a dark and resonant sound that vibrates through me. “As you wish.”
In a single swift motion, he tugs down my pants and underwear. I gasp at the sudden cool air on my heated skin, but it’s promptly replaced by the warmth of his hand as he trails it up my inner thigh.
“So wet for me already,” he murmurs, his fingers circling my entrance. “You truly want this, don’t you?”
I nod, desperate, beyond words. He eases two fingers inside me, and I bite my lip to stifle a cry. The stretch is exquisite, yet not enough. I crave more. I need more.
“Please,” I whimper, rocking against his hand.
He withdraws his fingers, leaving me bereft, but then comes the rustle of fabric, and suddenly he’s there, pressing against me, hot and hard.
“Last chance to change your mind,” he warns, his voice taut with barely restrained desire.
I hold his gaze, unyielding. “Fuck me,” I demand.
His laugh ripples through me like dark honey, stoking a fire I know will burn me alive. Those strong, calloused hands spin me around with ruthless efficiency, pinning me against the sink until I’m forced to watch my own surrender in the mirror.
His hands grip my ass, spreading my cheeks as if deliberating which hole to claim.
I don’t care which he chooses. I just need him inside me.
He claims me in one brutal thrust, the sudden fullness ripping a cry from my throat that echoes off the bathroom walls like a confession. My knuckles go white against the porcelain, caught between the cold sink and his burning heat. He pauses, allowing me to adjust to his size, but I’m already pushing back, hungry for more.
“Greedy little beta,” he snarls, fingers biting into my hips hard enough to leave tomorrow’s bruises—proof that at least this moment was real. Each thrust punctuates his ownership, my body yielding to him like I never yield to anyone.
His pace is relentless, each thrust driving me harder against the sink. I brace myself against the counter, knuckles turning white. In the mirror, I catch glimpses of our reflection—my flushed face, his fierce expression, the flex of his muscles with each powerful movement.
The alpha leans forward, his chest pressing against my back as he nips at my ear. “Look at you,” he snarls, grip tightening to bruising. “So fucking fearless. Makes me want to show you exactly why you should be afraid.” His laugh sounds unhinged. “But you’d like that too, wouldn’t you?”
Sure as fuck would.
I moan at the sight, at the feeling of him filling me so completely. It’s exactly what I needed—this raw, primal fuck that drives all thoughts from my mind except the sensations coursing through my body.
His free hand snakes around to rub circles on my clit, and I nearly scream from the added stimulation. I’m close, so close, teetering on the edge of ecstasy.
“Such a good little whore,” the words drip like poison honey from his lips as his teeth find my ear, those alpha canines scraping just hard enough to draw a gasp. “Bet you like the danger, don’t you? Like knowing I could lose control any second.” His voice fractures, turns feral. “Maybe I already have.” Those teeth press harder, a promise of violence barely contained.
His words send a jolt of pleasure through me, pushing me even closer to the edge. I’m beyond shame, beyond caring about anything but the incredible sensations he’s giving me.
“Yes,” I pant, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor. “Your whore. Your good little whore.”
He growls in approval, his movements becoming even more frenzied. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes in the bathroom, mixing with our heavy breathing and muffled moans.
I feel it then—the thick press of his knot against me, a reminder of why I usually avoid alphas. Betas aren’t built for this, can’t take a knot without training and pain and dedication. But right now, with pleasure clouding my judgment and guilt clawing at my conscience, a part of me craves that hurt.
“Wait,” I gasp, caught in that dangerous space between want and wisdom, between taking everything he can give me and knowing my limits. It’s the same edge I’m always dancing on, just with higher stakes. “Your knot.”
He grunts, his rhythm faltering slightly. “Don’t worry, little beta,” he pants against my ear. “I won’t knot you. Not here, not like this.”
Relief and disappointment war in my chest, but the choice is stolen from me as his rhythm turns savage. “Good girl,” he rasps, voice cracking like he’s losing his grip on sanity. “Taking everything I give you, aren’t you? Makes me want to see just how much you can handle before you break.” His laugh sounds unhinged. “Before we both break.” Each thrust drives me higher, harder, until I can’t tell if I’m running from my guilt or charging straight toward oblivion.
“Cum for me,” he orders, voice cracking with barely controlled violence. His fingers work faster, desperate, like he’s racing his own demons. “Let me feel that tight little pussy milk my cock. Want to feel you break apart while I’m buried inside you.” He lets out a sound that’s more growl than laugh. “Maybe I’ll break with you.”
“Break me.” I whisper back. It’s what I deserve.
His grip suddenly tightens, bordering on painful. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he snarls, voice fracturing. “Making me lose control like this. Making the beast want out.” His next thrust is brutal. “Should I let it out for you, little beta? Show you what happens when an alpha really loses it?”
“Lose it.” I tease him.
His canines graze my flesh, sending electricity through my nerves. He growls against my skin, “Need to mark you, claim you, break you.”
His words are my undoing. With a strangled cry, I come apart, my whole-body shuddering as waves of pleasure crash over me. He doesn’t stop, fucking me through my orgasm, prolonging it until I’m a quivering mess.
Just as I think I can’t take anymore, he stiffens behind me, letting out a guttural groan as he finds his own release. I feel him pulsing inside me, filling me with his seed.
For a moment, we’re frozen in the aftermath, nothing but shared breaths and trembling muscles. When he finally pulls away, I feel empty in more ways than one, his release running down my thighs like evidence of all my bad decisions.
He looks as wrecked as I feel, his hair mussed and his eyes wild. But there’s a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Feel better?” The question cuts through my post-orgasm haze, sharp and knowing. As he tucks himself away, I catch his smirk in the mirror—he knows exactly what kind of distraction I was looking for.
I laugh breathlessly. “Much better. Thank you for the distraction.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Distraction, huh? That’s all I am to you?”
I shrug, wincing slightly as I feel the ache between my legs. “Don’t take it personally. I needed to get out of my head for a bit, and you were conveniently here.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that?”
“So, I’ve been told,” I reply, reaching for some paper towels to clean myself up. “Look, this was fun, but I should probably get back. They’re probably wondering where I am by now.”
The alpha leans against the sink, watching me as I pull my pants back up. “Who’s they ?”
I hesitate, remembering the meeting I left. The guilt I’d momentarily forgotten comes rushing back. “Just... people I work with. It’s complicated.”
He nods, not pushing further. “Well, complicated girl, you got a name?”
“Know what?” I pull myself together, piece by scattered piece, armor going back on with my clothes. “No, I don’t.” Because names make things real, and reality is exactly what I came here to escape.
He scoffs, shaking his head.
“Thanks for the fuck.” I throw him a wink, wearing my shamelessness like a shield. The ache between my legs matches the one in my chest as I head for the door, both reminders that some escapes are only temporary.
He laughs, a deep, rumbling sound that makes something in my chest tighten. “Anytime. Something tells me our paths might cross again.”
I sure as fuck hope not.