On the Road
Warren
The road home is a dark, empty ribbon stretching ahead of us, trees flickering past in the headlights. I keep one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting uselessly on my thigh, tapping out nerves I won’t let myself say out loud.
Grason sits in the backseat with Tansy tucked against him.
She’s unconscious. Her cheek pressed to his chest, her breath coming out slow and shallow. She hasn’t stirred once since we put her in the car. Whatever they dosed her with must be really strong.
The Bluetooth chimes and Beck’s name flashes on the dash.
“Hey, babe,” I say.
“Warren?” His voice crackles through the speakers. “Can you hear me? How did it go? Is she—did you find someone?” His questions come fast, stacking on top of each other until he sounds breathless.
I clear my throat. “We’re heading home, Beck.” I glance at Tansy’s sleeping form in the rearview. “We got an omega.”
A soft, disbelieving sound breaks through the speakers—half-laugh, half-sob—and I can practically see Beck’s face in my mind. Wide eyes, messy hair, that too-big smile he gets when he’s really excited.
“Oh my god.” His voice cuts through the speakers, tight. “Warren. I can’t believe this.” There’s a shaky inhale on the line. He’s crying happy tears, I’d bet my life on it. “Tell me everything. Is she okay? What’s her name? I hope she isn’t scared. Is she—can I talk to her?”
My fingers tighten on the wheel. “She’s dead asleep,” I say. “And even if she was awake, she’s too drugged to really talk.”
“Oh.”
Grason’s hand comes into view in the rearview mirror. His massive palm rests protectively on Tansy’s hip, holding her steady every time the car shifts.
Beck’s silence crackles for a moment.
Then his worry hits full force.
“She’s actually…drugged?” His voice is strained. “What did they give her? Is she hurt? Is she breathing alright? Should I—should I call Dr. Pace? He should look her over, make sure she’s really okay. Are you making sure she’s warm? And drinking enough water. What—”
“Beck.” I keep my voice even, even though everything inside me feels like a live wire. “She’s okay, babe. She’s breathing fine. She’s …out for now.”
A soft sound filters through the speaker. I imagine Beck covering his mouth, or maybe trying not to cry. He’s been wound tight for so long that any shift feels like it could snap him in half.
“What’s her name?” he asks quietly.
“Tansy,” I say. “She told me her name before she passed out. She has dark red hair and pretty brown eyes.”
“She’s tall.” Grason’s voice rumbles from the backseat, low and steady. “And she looks strong. She’s gonna be alright.”
I’m not sure if he’s reassuring Beck or himself.
Probably both.
Beck pulls in a shaky breath. “Just…come home. Please. As fast as you can.”
“We’re on our way,” I promise. “We should be there by tomorrow night. Go to bed, beta.”
“Okay,” Beck whispers. “Love you.” And the hum in the speakers goes quiet.
Twenty hours later, I’m worn thin and half-asleep, but the idea of finally going home settles something restless inside me.
We drove through the night and into the next day, trading off without speaking much.
Miles blur past in a wash of headlights and pale morning sun.
At some point during the early hours, I stripped off my suit jacket and loosened my tie, eventually yanking the damn thing off completely.
None of it helped. My body hasn’t relaxed once.
Around midday, Grason takes the wheel, and I settle into the back with Tansy still dead asleep against me.
I try to focus on the world passing my window, but all I can feel is the steady rise and fall of our new omega’s breathing against my chest. It’s soft and hypnotic, a wild contradiction to the frantic pulse hammering in my own throat.
My hand drifts over Tansy’s sweet body, settling on the generous curve of her hip.
My thumb strokes the smooth fabric of her panties.
I can’t stop staring at her tits, pushed up by that damn corset like a fucking offering.
The plush mounds rise and fall with every breath she takes.
Her face is completely relaxed in sleep, slack and trusting, her pouty lips slightly parted.
She’s the most tempting thing I’ve ever seen, a dangerous mix of innocence and raw sensuality. It coils in my gut, hot and sharp, and every instinct I have is screaming to claim her right here, to mark her as mine, to show her who she really belongs to.
But I can’t.
She’s not mine to take. Cass is our pack alpha. Claiming her for the first time is his job.
Not mine.
I stare at the floorboards, trying to count the dead leaves crushed into the carpet.
But my gaze is a traitor. It keeps pulling back to Tansy’s long legs, stretched out in the dim light.
The sight has my cock stretching long and hard down one pant leg, already leaking precum and leaving a small, dark spot on the gray fabric.
And her scent…
So fucking sweet and earthy, growing stronger until it’s impossible to ignore.
Desperate to control myself, I squeeze the tip of my dick through my slacks, pinching hard.
The sharp pain does nothing to stop the desire pulsing through me.
It’s a futile attempt to wrestle back control from the beast raging inside me, the one that doesn’t give a damn about pack hierarchy or rules.
I’m losing my grip faster than I want to admit.
“You holding up?” Grason glances at me in the rearview.
“Fine,” I grit out, the word gravel in my throat.
“We’ll be home soon,” he says quietly. “Another hour and we’ll be there.”
My head snaps up.
Another hour?
His words hit like a punch to the sternum. My chest caves around the sound of them.
An hour trapped in this car. An hour with Tansy’s soft weight pressed against me while I drag in her potent scent. An hour of trying to hold myself together with nothing but willpower that’s already fraying apart, thread by thread.
Panic spikes, white-hot, crawling up the back of my throat.
My heartbeat turns erratic, too loud, too fast. I can barely breathe.
I’m going to lose it.
I’m going to lose control in this car with her unconscious beside me.
I can feel it, like a dam cracking under pressure it can’t contain.
“Pull over,” I say, voice rough.
Grason’s brows pull together in the rearview. “What?”
“Stop the fucking car,” I snap, the words ripping out of me before I can temper them. “Now.”
That does it.
Grason doesn’t argue again. He signals, tires crunching over gravel as he guides us onto the shoulder of the deserted road. Trees press in on both sides, tall and dark and silent, like the world is holding its breath with us.
The car rolls to a stop, and I shove the door open and stumble out onto the shoulder.
Cold air slams into me, but it barely dents the heat roaring under my skin. I take a few uneven steps into the grass, bending forward, bracing my hands on my thighs as I stare back at the car.
The car door is wide open, framing Tansy’s soft, stunning body.
I drag in as much fresh air as I can, but it doesn’t help. My cock is still rock hard, pressed tightly down the side of my leg.
“Warren?” Grason’s door slams, boots crunching over half-dead grass as he approaches fast. “Hey! What happened?” He turns his head back as he approaches fast, checking on Tansy.
She’s still out.
“What’s wrong?” His dark hazel eyes find mine.
I shake my head, still bent over, trying to keep the world from spinning. It feels like I’m fighting for my life here. The urge to lose control and lean into my baser desires is like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
“I…” The words scrape out of me. “I need a minute.”
Grason’s dark eyes narrow at my face, then he exhales slowly like he’s realizing something. “Yeah,” he says with a small nod. “Her scent is fucking me up too.”
I straighten, dragging my gaze over the tall alpha. It isn’t a conscious choice—a primal need to see if he’s really fighting the same battle.
Grason’s fingers flex, then curl into a slow, controlled fist at his side. And then my eyes drop lower. Right to the front of his slacks. The dark fabric strains, a distinct ridge pressing against the zipper. Clear, undeniable proof of his own fucking torture.
My mouth waters, and a feral, instinctive crack shatters the last of my control.
The need to claim, to dominate, to do anything to ease the pressure under my skin roars through me.
I’m on Grason in an instant, fisting the front of his shirt and yanking him down to my level. Our bodies collide as I crash my mouth against his.
It isn’t a kiss. It’s a collision.
Hard, fast, brutal.
I bite his lower lip, sharp and punishing, and force my tongue past his, devouring his crisp pine scent.
Grason makes a low, startled sound against my mouth, one hand grabbing my shoulder like he’s bracing himself, the other gripping my waist.
Then he kisses me back as fiercely.
A low growl vibrates against my lips, sinking straight into my spine. His mouth slants over mine with a sudden, consuming hunger.
Fingers tighten on my waist, dragging me closer until there’s no space left between us.
My hand fists in the front of his shirt, knuckles brushing the warm skin beneath as I drag him even deeper into the kiss. My other tangles in his hair, tugging hard enough to draw a sharp breath from him.
“Fuck,” Grason snarls. His hand slides away from my shoulder and down my spine in a slow drag of his fingers that makes my skin tingle. I’m not just hard. I’m fucking swollen, my dick pulsing with a frantic beat of its own.
“Back the fuck up,” Grason growls, then he moves.
He uses his big body to steer me, walking me slowly backward until my shoulders hit the cold metal of the SUV. The jolt is sharp, a solid impact that only feeds the fire roaring through my system.
I’m trapped.
Pinned between the unyielding steel at my back and the powerful man at my front.
My alpha instincts snarl in my chest, telling me to fight back. To dominate. But I don't want to fight.
I want to be owned.