In The Garage
Warren
I’m elbow-deep in the engine bay when the wrench slips, clanging against the concrete. I swear under my breath, then flex my fingers, but the tremor doesn’t stop. It hasn’t all day.
My shoulders stay tight, jaw locked, nerves buzzing like I’ve swallowed live wire.
But it doesn’t matter what I do or where I am, all I can smell is them.
Cass and Tansy.
The scent of their fucking threads through the house like a swarm of bees I can’t escape.
The aroma is warm, sweet, and alpha-heavy, and it’s been buzzing in my veins since Tansy fell into her heat yesterday morning. And the longer it lingers, the more it crawls under my skin, winding tight around my nerves until thought gives way to pure, feral instinct.
I feel like I’m one breathy moan away from breaking down that damn bedroom and ripping her right out of Cass’s arms.
Even right now, I can practically see Cass's perfect cock driving into Tansy. Her plush tits bouncing with every thrust. His hands gripping her curvy hips to hold her in place. And her eyes…
Fuck, they’re so expressive.
I bet they look wild when she comes.
“Stop it,” I tell myself. “You’ll drive yourself crazy.”
I bend down to grab my wrench, and right as my fingers close around the cold steel, a vicious growl vibrates through the walls. It's a sound of pure lust, but it's tangled with the sound of Tansy crying out—not in pain, but in a long, hard shudder of release.
Heat crashes through my body before I can rein it in. My hard cock is stuffed painfully in the front of my jeans, a thick, insistent ridge against the denim.
Determined to ignore the pressure growing inside me, I try to breathe through it, telling myself to focus on the engine block in front of me.
Torque specs. Timing. Fuel lines.
I lift the wrench and tighten a bolt way too hard. The metal gives with a sharp, ugly squeal before the resistance vanishes. The head spins loose and useless in my grip.
“Fuck,” I snarl, glaring at the stripped bolt. “Get it fucking together,” I growl softly as I push off my stool.
I step back to the small sink at the rear of the garage, turn the tap, and scrub my hands and face clean. Grease spirals down the drain, and I find myself staring at it, watching the dark streaks vanish. I wish like hell I could rinse this feeling out of my body the same way.
My cock has been rock hard all day long.
It’s so fucking painful, it's all I can do not to unbuckle and jerk myself off right here.
I reach down, palming the thick length through the denim and squeezing hard. It's a useless attempt to relieve the pressure. The friction only makes the ache deeper, more insistent.
Footsteps scuff at the edge of the garage, and I jerk my hand away, hitching my jeans up and shifting my stance, tugging the fabric flat like I can bully myself into looking normal. I clear my throat, force my shoulders loose, waiting for Beck to appear.
I know the rhythm of everyone in this house, and Beck’s always had a lighter step, like he’s half-dancing even when he’s walking.
“Hey,” the beta says softly as he pokes his head inside the doorway. “You’ve been in here for a long time.”
“Sorry,” I say, smiling as he steps inside. “I lost track of time.”
Beck smiles at that as he steps farther into the garage, hands tucked into the pockets of one of Grason’s oversized hoodies, the sleeves hanging a little long over his wrists.
Loose sweatpants slouch low on his hips, soft and well-worn, and his favorite house shoes scuff quietly against the concrete as he moves.
The flush in his cheeks becomes more obvious as he moves toward me, and there’s a nervous energy rolling off him. His eyes won’t quite settle on me or the bike, darting around the whole room instead.
I lean back against the counter, waiting for him to finally look at me. “What’s up?”
Beck shrugs, then rocks on his heels, that half-dance motion he does when he doesn’t know where to put himself. “Just checking on you,” he says. “Figured you might need a break.”
I keep smiling. “I’m good,” I tell him, even as my body screams the opposite. “The bike's being stubborn.”
Beck nods as he bites his bottom lip.
He looks so…jittery? Or maybe even uncomfortable.
Our beta is a fairly nervous person, with lots of energy to burn, but the look on his face is different. I can’t help but wonder if Tansy’s sudden heat has something to do with it.
Although that would be a little surprising.
I mean, betas aren’t wired like the rest of us. They don’t get pulled under by pheromones or ride the same brutal instinctual highs and lows. Sure, betas can smell some hormonal changes, but it doesn’t usually rattle them like this.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, keeping my voice neutral.
“Yeah.” Beck rocks back on his heels, then forward again. “I’m…” he trails off, shaking his head before starting again. “I’m fine. Just bored.” He gives me a stiff smile. “Grason ran out to get more stuff for Tansy’s room.”
I can’t help but notice the tension in Beck’s shoulders. His forced brightness. Something is definitely wrong.
I turn it over for a few seconds, running through the obvious possibilities. Too much noise in the house. Too many changes at once. Maybe he’s still worried about Cass.
Cass.
And then realization slides in.
Our pack alpha is fucking a woman. In our house. Claiming her so fucking loudly there’s no escaping the sounds or scents. And while Beck has always been easygoing about sex in general, never getting jealous or bothered if one of us hooks up without him, this isn’t “just” sex.
This is pack-shifting, foundation-altering territory.
“Are you upset?” I blurt out.
Beck’s brows knit together. “About what?”
About being left out.
About watching our pack literally change right before our eyes.
About how Grason and I were fucking assholes who didn’t hesitate for a second before plowing straight over you to get to an omega.
But I don’t say any of that.
“About Tansy,” I say. “Grason and I didn’t exactly ask you how you felt about claiming an omega before we did it. I’m really sorry we didn’t talk to you first. If you’re upset or—”
“Oh, no!” Beck says quickly. “I’m not upset at all!” He moves to me, pressing a hand to my chest. “I want an omega.” He holds my gaze like he needs me to believe him. “I’m really happy that Tansy is here.”
I search his big blue eyes, like the truth might be written somewhere inside them. “Are you sure? You seem really off. You know you can talk to me.”
“I know.” He exhales slowly as he looks away, then he huffs out a short, embarrassed laugh. “It’s…uh…it’s really stupid.”
“Hey.” I place a finger under his chin, tilting his head up. “Nothing you say is stupid. Ever.”
He gives me a shy smile, cheeks going pink. “I’ve just been,” his voice drops to a whisper, “really horny. Like, distractingly so. Which makes no sense. I’m a beta. This isn’t—” he gestures vaguely at himself, flustered, “normal for me.”
My interest snaps to attention. The ache I’ve been fighting all day tightens, shifts, becomes something hot and keen instead of miserable.
Beck has been stressed, I remind myself. Don’t fucking jump him.
I keep my face neutral and my voice even, not wanting to overwhelm him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Beck lets out a shaky breath, rubbing his upper arm. "I'm just... really frustrated," he admits, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m kind of dying,” his vibrant eyes flicker up to me, all shy and sweet, “to be touched.”
And something inside me breaks.
I reach out and grip Beck's wrist, yanking him to me. The beta gasps when he hits my chest, forcing him to tip his head all the way back to see my face.
“You need to be touched?” I move my hand to cup the back of his neck, my fingers tangling in the soft hair at his nape.
"Yes," he whispers again, the sound all breathy like he's on the verge of panting. “Please, alpha. Please, touch me.”
And that’s all it takes.
I crush my mouth to his.
There's no gentleness in the kiss, no slow build.
I claim his mouth with a raw, primal urgency, pouring every ounce of the dominance he begs for into the press of my lips.
Beck is too shocked to respond at first, his body going rigid against mine. His lips are so fucking soft, slowly opening with a timid gasp. My tongue delves into his mouth, stroking against his, claiming the warm, wet space as my own.
He makes a muffled, startled sound, but I don't let up.
Fisting his hair, I tilt his head, angling him to deepen the kiss, to consume him.
Desperate, I press closer, my body a hard line against his smaller, softer one. Then a low growl rumbles up from my chest. I don't pull back to speak, I push the words directly into his mouth, a filthy promise against his tongue. "You're going to take everything I give you, aren't you, Beckett?"
All at once, the rigid tension in Beck’s body dissolves, replaced by a trembling, desperate need. A choked sound escapes his throat, and then he's kissing me back.
It’s like a dam breaking.
His hands, which had been limp at his sides, fly up to clutch at my shoulders, his nails digging into my skin through my shirt. He surges against me, no longer passive but an eager, willing participant. His tongue, shy and unsure at first, slides against mine, quickly matching my intensity.
My shy, embarrassed beta is gone, and in his place is a man who knows exactly what he wants.
I wrap my arms around the beta, backing him up until we both hit the nearest wall.
Beck’s hands come up to clutch at my biceps, his nails digging into the fabric of my shirt. I swallow down his intoxicating, clean, rain-soaked scent as he melts against me.
I can feel the hard line of his cock pressed against my thigh and the way he trembles slightly under my hands.
One of my arms bands around his waist, lifting him slightly, pulling him flush against me so there’s no space left between us. I want to absorb him, to mark him, to make it so he can’t remember his own fucking name.
When I finally pull back, it’s barely enough to breathe.