5. Jp #2
“Cass! You’re gonna have to get us back,” I bark, already moving toward the cabin and sinking onto the small bench seat, pulling her between my legs. I pull my jacket around the front of her and wrap us both up in blankets.
Knowing there isn’t a damn thing anyone on this boat could do or say to take her from my arms, I hold her as close as I can. She’s submerged in the blankets. Only her eyes, which are now closed, and nose stick out.
She’s so small. Her head easily fits under my chin, and her curvy form feels delicate with my larger body wrapped around her.
I hold her close and keep the blanket tight around us both until I feel a small bubble of warmth begin to build between us.
She starts to melt into me, still shaking, but I can feel her warming.
“So…Sorr…Sorry?” she stammers. She tries to pull away from me, obviously uncomfortable being held in a stranger’s arms. I pull my arms tighter around her, pressing her tight to my body.
“Just warm up, Omega,” I say, and the unease seems to settle back down. She tucks her head back into the crook of my neck and shoulder. She doesn’t argue. She just presses closer.
I can’t help but notice how good she feels in my arms, way too good, pressed against me. A strange, warm feeling starts to creep into my chest, a feeling of certainty at being the one to take care of her.
I dip my face low and drag her scent into my lungs like oxygen. I’m suffocating from how good she smells; I can’t help it. I bury my face in the blankets and breathe deeply again.
A barely there moan vibrates from my chest. Her scent hits a special primal part of my Alpha brain. She smells unbearably sweet and warm, like the best fucking day you’ve ever had.
It’s so good I have to physically stop myself from scent-marking her right here, from pressing her against me. From grinding against her with the kind of need I swore I would never feel again.
Her rich Omega scent, the way I feel, how my heart beats, it all sends a cascade of long buried memories of old hurt that I thought I’d moved past.
My entire body locks up, torn between two instincts, ripping me in half.
I look up and catch Cass watching me, knowing he can feel what I’m feeling. But he hasn’t smelled it, not like this—not yet.
But I can. We’re scent-matched. Fuck. My heart threatens to beat out of my chest.
My hands tighten involuntarily around her, my jaw clenching so hard my teeth ache. I feel her tense in my arms, responding to my change in mood and probably my scent, as well.
I force myself to pull back slightly to look down at her face. I hold my breath, trying to stop the all-out assault her scent is waging on my instincts and heart.
Damn it.
Daisy follows, poking her head into the cabin, her voice sharp and clipped as she rattles off concerns about hypothermia. Something about shock, warmth, dry clothes. The words blur and blend together, a low hum in the background of my pounding heart.
I can hear Cass, too, his voice a low rumble of frustration and concern. But it all fades away—muffled by the roaring in my ears, by the frantic pulse of my own instincts thrumming through me like something alive.
The moment Sterling starts to drift off, her body slumping against me, that clawing, desperate need to keep her safe finally loosens its stranglehold. But only just a little.
It takes several minutes before her body gives in completely, her breathing evening out, the trembling of her limbs easing as sleep claims her.
Her body’s need to heal and recover from the shock of the icy water wins out.
And thank God, because I don’t know how much longer I could’ve handled the sight of her shaking, her skin so pale and cold.
She curls up in between my legs. Nestling into every hollow and crevice of my body she can reach: she’s searching for warmth, comfort—me. Her icy hands find their way under my shirt, pressing flat against my stomach, fingers splayed as if she’s trying to pull my heat straight from my skin.
Her cheek rests against the small exposed patch of skin at my throat, her breath puffing softly against my collarbone, she’s warmer now, but still carrying the faint chill of the water.
But her scent…
Fuck.
Her scent is all I can think about. Thick and sweet, wrapped around me like a cocoon, seeping into my clothes, my skin, my lungs. It’s everywhere. Everywhere. And it’s perfect. Mouthwateringly addictive.
My arms tighten around her, fingers digging into her sides: I need to anchor her there. My Alpha refusing to let her go.
A burning need surges through me, fierce and unrelenting. Desire that goes straight to my dick..
And now I can’t un-smell her.
I’ll never be able to put her down. I’ll never be the same.
Mine.
My Alpha growls the word with such ferocity it’s like a physical force, clawing its way up from some deep, primal part of me I thought I’d beaten into submission years ago.
But it’s awake now. Fully, utterly awake. And there’s no putting it back to sleep.
What the hell are you supposed to do when the universe hands you something so perfect, so meant for you?—
But you’re too lost, too broken to hold on to it?
I don’t know how to deal with that. I can't do it again. And besides, we all agreed—there’s just no place for an Omega in our lives. Not with the way things are. Not with everything we’re in the middle of.
But that thought doesn’t stop me from holding her closer. It doesn’t stop my fingers from tracing slow, feather-light patterns over the bare strip of skin above her jeans, the warmth of her seeping into me, her scent wrapping around me like a drug.
It doesn’t stop my Alpha from whispering mine, mine, mine with every single breath I take.