Chapter 20 – D E N V E R
The cave roof is solid,the stone absorbing the noise of the storm outside. Brooklyn and I were both able to get a few much-needed hours of sleep in our little den. Outside, the storm rages on. Heavy raindrops pound the ground outside, gale winds whipping the foliage. Occasionally, I catch the sound of a branch cracking, a tree falling. The deep rolls of thunder vibrate through the dirt floor.
Memphis and Camden should be back by now. Even if they couldn’t find the herbs, they’re smart enough to seek shelter in a storm this intense. I hope to God they were lucky enough to find shelter somewhere out here. But if I’m honest, I doubt they did. It’s not like the park is littered with perfect little hideouts like our cave. Chances are, they’re wet and miserable, possibly even injured or worse.
Any other mission, I’d be lacing up my boots and headed out, searching for my teammates. I’ve got some medical training, and more experience in search and rescue than I’m happy remembering. I don’t like sitting pretty in my nice, dry hideout while my men are in danger, but I’ve gotta stay put. Someone has to stay with Brooklyn. The mission is to get her home safe. Camden and Memphis are big boys, fully capable Alphas—they’ll figure it out.
And I’m miserable enough right where I am.
Brooklyn whines quietly, and I cringe. She’s been mewling in her sleeping bag for a while now, the pain of her heat obviously back in full force. Her little sounds of pain make my hair stand on end. The past few hours have been torture. I’m not sure what’s worse, knowing how much she’s suffering from the pain, or inhaling her sweet amber scent, which hangs heavy in the air around me.
Then, she shrieks, the pained sound more animal than human, and I snap. I can’t leave her to deal with this alone. Brooklyn needs someone, and right now, I’m all she’s got.
I make my way over to her sleeping bag. She’s curled in on herself, hands clutching her stomach, her eyes squinted in agony.
“Fuck,” I swear, kneeling next to her and pressing my hand to her forehead. As I expected, it’s burning hot. Brooklyn’s beautiful skin is flushed a rosy red, and she’s covered in a sheen of sweat.
“It’s okay,” Brooklyn whispers. Her eyes are distant, fixed on something that isn’t me. “You taught me everything already. I know, I know what to do.”
She’s delirious. I don’t know who she’s talking to, but it’s definitely not me.
The fever’s practically boiling her alive—I have to cool her down. I take a T-shirt from my pack and bring it to the cave mouth, letting the cold rain soak the fabric. Rushing back in, I press the shirt to her forehead. She sighs in relief. I leave the shirt there until her skin heats it, then go back into the rain to refresh it.
After I’ve gone a few rounds with the shirt, Brooklyn grabs my wrist. She’s still burning up, but she seems somewhat cognizant now. She shakes her head.
“No more.” Her voice is so quiet, I can barely hear it. “It won’t help.”
Her dark hair is damp from the rain and sweat. I brush it back with my fingers, trying to provide what comfort I can.
“What can I do, princess?” I murmur.
She blinks dolefully back at me. We both know damn well what she needs—a fucking knot. That’s the only thing that’ll end her misery.
The one thing I can’t give her.
I can’t be that close to another person. Especially not Brooklyn. Not this clever, strong-willed valkyrie with fire in her blue and brown eyes. She might have the face of an angel, but it’s the wildness inside her that practically brings me to my knees. She’s freedom and independence and as savagely beautiful as the forest she made her home.
I can’t let my touch corrupt her. Grayson Castle was right—I’m not good enough to deserve her, even if he didn’t know the real reasons why.
My hands are so bloody, they’ll never be washed clean. Too many men took their last breaths under my hands. I’ve acted as an executioner to innocents without a trial. The kinds of things I’ve done, they leave a mark. I might refuse to work for evil men now, but it’s only because I’ve done it so many times before. My conscience is tarnished and threadbare, and I know all too well that I’ll only hurt anyone who gets close to me. There’s nothing more intimate than knotting an Omega, and I can’t risk it.
While I think, Brooklyn curls in even tighter on herself. She looks so small and vulnerable that it almost breaks me.
“Distract me,” she murmurs. “Tell me…a story. Anything. Please.”
A story. I’m not much of a sharer, but at least that I can give her.
“Before my first deployment, I trained for a while on a base in Germany,” I tell her, settling into a semi-comfortable position next to her. “My bunkmate was this skinny fellow, Tony Russo, and he could never keep up with the physical training. He’d fall behind running laps, and his arms would just give out doing push-ups. We were all asking ourselves, how did this guy even qualify?”
I look at Brooklyn to see if she’s listening. She’s still curled up and trembling, but she glances at me when I pause. So I keep talking.
“He could barely hold up his equipment, but the sergeant in charge always let it slide. He’d yell at the rest of us till he was blue in the face, but for Tony, there were never any consequences. It’s like he had a different rulebook than the rest of us. We asked him right to his face, but he never told us. He wasn’t close with anyone, always hanging around the edges, lost in his own world most of the time.”
“Then, Tony and I got paired on a training exercise. I resented it, thinking I’d have to drag his equipment plus mine when he got tired. And it’s true—every other pair got a head start, and Tony was lagging behind. Then, when they were out of eyesight, Tony puts his bag down. Told me, ‘I’m hungry. Wanna get some lunch?’ I’m looking at him like he’s crazy. Because any minute, our superiors are gonna come out and yell at us for ignoring orders. Of course I’m not leaving to get lunch.”
“He tells me, ‘Briggs, you’re a smart guy. You really think this whole excursion is worth your time?’ And I tell him no. Because the exercise is stupid, stuff we learned in basic training. We’re really only doing it for team building. And Tony says, ‘I got something better for team-building.’”
“So he sneaks me into this training session we’re not a part of. We get on simulators and learn how to navigate a cargo ship. It was cool as hell, and nobody said a thing. Not the leader of the class, and not our sergeant when we get back. It’s like Tony had a spell on everyone.”
As I tell the story, Tony’s face swims into my mind. A thin-faced Italian-American, with dark eyes and a mouth that curved up at the edges naturally, so it always looked like he was smiling. It’s bittersweet, knowing how he ended up. There shouldn’t have been explosives on his routine surveillance route.
I usually avoid thinking about Tony, and everyone else. It’s too hard, remembering that I’ll never see them again. But telling Brooklyn, I feel a little lighter. I’ll always carry my grief with me, but with that grief, there’s treasure. Tony and the guys made me who I am. Sharing the better memories with her takes away some of the bitterness of how it ended.
“Eventually,” I say, “Tony tells me how it all happened. Turns out, Tony’s a computer whiz. I’m talking, blackhat hacker stuff.”
Brooklyn giggles. It’s a small noise, but it’s not one of pain.
“Thought you didn’t…like rulebreakers,” she whispers.
I grin. “I like them too much. That’s why I avoid them.”
It’s true. I stayed away from Brooklyn so long because I know she’s trouble. It’s like she was hand-picked to appeal to my personal preferences in a woman. Independent, smart, wild, and beautiful.
I clear my throat and get back to the story.
“Tony could get through any firewall. Turns out, he got into the phones of everyone right above us. He left them little notes in their files, just to show them that he could. He never blackmailed anyone. They just knew what he could do, if he wanted to. And that was enough. They let him do whatever he wanted, just because they didn’t want him finding the weird shit they googled.”
Her laugh shatters into a broken cry.
The hand clenching her stomach shifts to the space between her legs, and I realize she’s touching herself. Her slick smells so tempting, I can barely stop myself from following the path of her hand.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I have to.”
Her hips rock against her hand, but there’s no power to it. It’s clear how much energy it costs her just to try and make herself come, knowing it won’t even get close to the kind of relief she really needs.
Fuck, I can’t stand it anymore. She’s too far gone. If I don’t knot her, she’ll die. And that’ll weigh heavier on my conscience than anything else I could do right now. It’s not just my job anymore—I know the world will be a darker place without this woman in it.
“You need a knot,” I say. “I can help you, Brooklyn. But I want something in return.”
Her eyes flash to mine, and the hope I see in them hits me right in the heart. It almost makes me feel bad for what I’m about to ask.
Almost.
“I’ll knot you, but only if you promise to let us bring you home. No more running off or slowing us down. When the rain stops, we’ll head back and I want you fully cooperative. Is that understood?”
“I understand,” she says, her voice faint.
“So you’ll give me your word.”
I expect her to nod eagerly. It’s the smart move, and at this point, her heat symptoms are so bad, she doesn’t have even minutes to spare. Yet she bites her lip, thinking. What the hell does she have to think about? At this point, none of us are a threat to her anymore. Memphis and Camden have already knotted her, and managed not to claim her. What more do we have to do to prove that she can trust us?
Then, the truth hits me like a truck.
Camden, Memphis and I aren’t the problem. Brooklyn doesn’t want to go home.
I run my hand along her arm, hoping my touch might help her. Her gaze is perfectly lucid as she looks up at me.
“Why do you want to stay out here?” I ask. “Why don’t you want to go home?”
She doesn’t answer. She stares back at me, making it crystal clear that she’s not going to answer me. The longer I’m close to her, the more my body reacts to her. My cock is diamond hard, leaking precum. My pulse is rapid, and I know my pupils are probably blown out by now. I must look like a fucking wolf drooling over his dinner.
I should wait for her to take my deal. Even though she’s got some reason she’d rather be alone out here in the woods instead of pampered inside Castle’s mansion, the fact is, she’s not safe here. If I really want to take care of her, the best thing I could do is make sure she gets home.
But a bigger part of me just wants to fuck her, deal or no deal. I’m so ready for her that I’m practically panting at the thought of tasting her. Forget the mission, forget Castle—there’s an Omega right in front of me, and she needs me. Not Camden or fucking Memphis, me. She’s been wearing my jacket because part of her knew, from the moment I saw her, she was already mine.
Before I can tell her that I don’t care what she says, that I’ll knot her anyway, Brooklyn nods.
“Please,” she asks, her full lower lip trembling. “Please, Denver, it hurts so much. I need your cock. It’s the only thing that will make me feel better. I need you inside me so badly. I…I’ll cooperate. I’ll go with you, just please take the pain away. Please knot me.”
I growl, and press my lips hard against hers.
Hard. Feral.
Desperate.
The kiss is raw and needy. In seconds, my body’s covering hers, both of us practically clawing to get close to each other. Her nails scrape down my back, and for a moment I think she might tear the fabric to get at my skin. I grab her dark hair in my fist and pull her head back, letting me look at her one more time before I take her.
“You beg so beautifully,” I whisper. “How can I say no?”
She’s wearing my clothes still, and as much as I fucking love it, I need to see her bare. I don’t waste time tugging off the shirt and pants, until she’s naked on top of the sleeping bag. The skin on her slender legs pebbles in the cold air, rosy pink nipples rock hard.
I can’t help lowering my head to take one in my mouth. My tongue swirls and flicks them, making her arch her back and let out one of those perfect cries. I kiss and suckle her perfect breasts while she writhes against me. She needs to be knotted soon, but I love how she responds to me. I have to explore her body just a little longer. Find out what kind of touch she loves. Instinct tells me she likes it rough.
So I suck on a nipple, hard. She cries out, and my cock jerks at the sound.
“Please,” she begs again. “I need to see you.”
She doesn’t need to ask me twice. I rip my shirt off, hearing a tear in the fabric as I yank it over my head. Right now, I don’t give a fuck. I don’t even have a chance to get my pants off before Brooklyn’s reaching for me again. Her fingertips trace the scars across my chest, from the slash on the side of my ribs to the marks on my lower abs.
I’ve lived a violent life, and I bear the proof of that on my skin. Other women have flinched, seeing me naked. It’s not that I’m disfigured—it’s the reality of my brutality. I’m marked by the weapons of my opponents, who endured far worse from me.
Brooklyn isn’t scared. She seems fascinated, touching me with a gentleness I’ve never experienced. I shiver at her touch, which feels as permanent as any of my scars.
Before she can finish exploring me, she cries out again. This time, it’s the pain. We’ve reached the limit for foreplay—she can’t go any longer without my knot, and we both know it. Her shaking hands move to my belt buckle, but she’s too shaky and needy to manage it on her own. I push her hands away, tearing off my belt and pants. Finally, we’re both completely bare together on the sleeping bag. Brooklyn’s eyes widen as she takes in my cock.
“It won’t fit,” she says, sounding dazed. Still, she takes me in her hand, stroking me like she couldn’t stop herself if she wanted to. My cock twitches in her grip.
“It will,” I murmur. “It might hurt a little at first, but you can take it. Afterward, I promise, I’ll make you feel so good.”
I know I’m big, even for an Alpha, but I don’t have time to prepare her like I want to. She needs a knot too soon. I press two fingers into her slick channel, stretching her quickly. She keens, her fingers tightening on my shoulders until I’m sure her nails will mark me. Good. Let anyone see this Omega left her mark on me, just like I’ll leave mine on her.
Withdrawing my fingers, I push into her. Her pussy stretches to take in the head of my cock, but she’s so fucking tight I don’t dare push any further. Her taut inner muscles push against the intrusion, and she buries her face in my neck, seeking refuge from the intensity of the pleasure and pain.
I grit my teeth, barely able to handle the sensation myself. Her pussy molds itself against my cock, and it’s better than my filthiest fantasies.
“Fuck, you feel amazing.” I groan. “So hot and wet for me, a goddamn dream.”
“So good, Denver,” she echoes. “So big.”
The last words are pained and tense. I grit my teeth, and it takes every ounce of discipline drilled into me to stop from pushing in further. I think of her slender hips, her tiny frame—fuck, I feel like I could rip her in half.
“Do you need me to stop?” I say. Silently, I swear to God that I’ll stop if she asks me, even if it might kill us both if I do.
Brooklyn shakes her head. “No. Don’t stop, please. It feels…amazing.”
Her blue and brown eyes are glazed with lust. Her hips shift under mine, taking in more of my cock.
“Such a good girl,” I mutter. “You’re taking it so well. Just a little more, okay?”
“No, Denver. I want all of it. Please. I want it to hurt. I want to feel it.”
She cups my face in her hand. Like she’s the one taking care of me. The last remnants of my self-control shatter, and I sheath my cock inside her in one hard stroke. She clings to me, panting, the look on her gorgeous face one of pure satisfaction.
When I pull back just an inch, her fingers dig into my shoulders, like she’s afraid I’ll pull out and leave her. As if I ever would. Hell, if I could, I’d stay inside her sweet pussy forever. I shove right back in, the head of my cock pressing against her womb.
I want to fill her up. I want my child growing inside her.
Shit, where did that idea come from? I’ve never wanted kids before, barely even thought about the idea of them. Her hormones must be messing with me.
The next time I drive my cock into her, it’s hard and sharp. I start pistoning into her, stretching her, forcing her to take me in as fast as I can give it to her. Like I’m fucking away the thought of keeping her in any way. Trying to create some distance when she’s as intimately connected to me as she possibly could be.
Brooklyn takes me anyway. She meets me with every thrust. I must be hurting her with my rough rhythm, but she moans like she loves it.
I force my forearms under her knees, drawing up her legs so she’s taking me even deeper. The shift makes my knot press against her swollen clit, eliciting a high scream from her. I keep that angle, plunging into her so it rubs against her, driving her closer and closer to her release. Every muscle tenses while I try to hold myself at bay. I need her to come for me.
I slow my rhythm, shifting to long, smooth strokes. Her pussy trembles in response, and I can see in her face she’s close. Her full, rosy lips part, and her eyes clench shut.
“That’s it,” I tell her. “Come on, princess, let go. Come on my cock for me.”
She clenches tight around me, gasping as she falls over the edge. It’s all I can do to keep from following her down. I focus on her face, memorizing how she looks when she comes. The way her cheeks flush pink and her dark brows rise. Her chest rises as she breathes through it, and when it’s all over, her lips spread into a gorgeous smile.
I see that smile, and I know I’m a goner. I tried to keep my distance, but I failed. She has my heart in her tiny little hand, and all I can do is hope that she won’t squeeze until it bleeds.
When I release her legs, she wraps them around my waist, holding on tight as I rock into her. We’re both lost to how perfect it feels, how right. Like everything we’ve endured has been leading to this.
Time seems to slow in the moment before I shove my knot inside her. I know, if I do this, there’s no way it’ll be the end for me. How am I supposed to give this magnificent creature—this beautiful woman—this perfect Omega back to her family if I claim her here and now? No. I don’t think I could.
No.
I shouldn’t do this.
I can’t.
But I can’t stop.
I press in, and Brooklyn shrieks as her greedy pussy takes in my knot. Every cell in my body turns to fire, and my vision goes white as I come inside her. My cock pulses, releasing my seed in long, hot spurts.
Collapsing onto the sleeping bag, I roll to my back, pulling Brooklyn on top of me. Our breaths slow together and before I realize what’s happening, she’s rubbing her cheek against my chest, sighing softly as I purr for her.