4. Jet
Jet
When I’d started working at the ranch and met the omegas, I’d noticed Elliott immediately. He was cute: small with dark blond hair that frequently fell into his large, green eyes, and a sweet smile he rarely displayed.
He obviously didn’t like or trust alphas, especially unmated alphas. After what I’d read about him in his dossier, I wasn’t surprised. His kidnappers had threatened him with an alpha.
I was aware that he reminded me of Clayton, and that made the way my body was reacting to the sounds he was making on the other side of the door even more disgusting to me.
Was that pain or ecstasy? Whichever it was, it made my cock impossibly hard.
Before this, I’d never given much thought to an omega’s heat.
The omegas at the SOS were safely contained during their heats with a beta taking care of them until they were over.
The omegas here had gone into heat a couple of weeks ago and been confined to their house for the duration. Laura and Eric had tended to them.
As for my ruts, before I went on rut suppressants, my ruts had been intense, but after I started taking them, a hookup with a beta sated me well enough. I wasn’t in rut now, but my body was very aware of the omega in the shed.
Those few moments before I’d closed the door on him had shown me a different side of myself—one I didn’t like.
Past ruts were nothing compared to what I would experience with an omega.
Even on suppressants, after being near Elliott only a few minutes, I had a difficult time holding myself back.
It had taken everything in me to shut that door and lock him inside.
Worried about him, I leaned against the wall of the building and listened to his groans. I could tell he was trying to be quiet, muffling his cries with his hand.
As the hours passed, Elliott became delirious.
I doubted he even realized he was begging for me to come back inside and take him—I hoped he didn’t realize it.
When I’d called her, Dr. Turner had told me there was a small bathroom attached to the building and plenty of water in the refrigerator, so Elliott would be okay for the few days it would take for his heat to subside.
Every so often, I called to him, instructing him to go get a water and drink it, and I would hear him drag himself across the floor to do as I said.
Keane and Ren came by.
“How is he?” Keane asked me as he approached. Then he heard Elliott moaning inside the building.
“El! Hang on!” Keane called to his friend. “Everything’s going to be okay.” The two omegas stayed for a while, calling out occasional encouragement to Elliott, before Anson came to walk them home.
Close to dawn, Brandon came by and offered to relieve me, but I refused. Even if I hadn’t promised Elliott I would stay, I wanted to be the one to watch over him.
During the next day, one or two of Elliott’s friends rotated coming to sit by the work shed. They talked to Elliott through the wall. Various people brought me my meals.
On the third day, Elliott fell quiet. Before, I’d listened and tried not to imagine what he was doing in there, my face burning when he called out my name and begged me to come relieve his agony.
Thank the gods he never did that while his friends were there.
I was shocked how tempting his begging was to me, despite the wall between us and the suppressants in my system.
It made me realize how easy it would be to completely lose control.
To make sure I didn’t, on the first night, I asked Dr. Turner for a rubberband.
Eric brought it to me, and I kept it on my wrist, snapping it when my mind went down that rabbit hole.
I also climbed a tree and hung the key to the shed from a branch.
I could get to it, but it would take some effort, and that should be enough to bring me to my senses.
Dr. Turner approached, my lunch in a bag. Handing it to me, she listened for a moment and said, “Elliott’s heat must be subsiding.”
“Do you think he’s okay?” I asked.
She nodded. “A deep sleep is the final stage. We’ll wait a couple of hours to make sure and then open the door. Go ahead and eat, and I’ll come back and we’ll let him out. I may need you to carry him to the omega’s living quarters. He’ll be exhausted.”
When it was time, Dr. Turner returned and I did as she asked and carried an unconscious Elliott home.
I placed him in his bed, and Dr. Turner examined him and said he’d be fine after he rested.
Then she thanked me for watching over him so carefully.
Before I left, I asked her to please make sure he knew that I had stayed as I’d promised him I would.