Chapter 5
Five
FRANCINE
The door rattles in its frame as I slam it shut, my whole body trembling with rage and adrenaline. I slide the deadbolt into place and attach the flimsy chain lock. But deep down, I know nothing would stop this crazed alpha if he really wanted to break back in.
My heart pounds so hard as I press my back against the door.
I slide down the door until I’m sitting on the floor with my knees pulled to my chest. What the actual fuck just happened?
A total stranger broke into my home and slept with me all night. He held me while I slept, his arms wrapped around me like we were lovers.
There’s got to be something very wrong with him. I’m shaking so much, I can hardly move from my spot on the floor.
My hands tremble as I push my fingers through my tangled hair. I need to change the locks. Maybe add a deadbolt that can’t be picked. Or one of those metal security bars that wedge under the doorknob. Anything to keep him out if he decides to come back.
“So weird,” I whisper to myself. “What the hell?”
Every breath I take fills my lungs with his scent. His warm cinnamon scent. It clings to my skin, my pajamas, the very air around me. And the worst part? My body responds to it like a flower turning toward the sun. My inner omega recognizes something in him that calls to me on a primal level.
I shake my head sharply, angry at my own traitorous body. No. He’s a stalker. A creep who followed me home and watched me sleep. It doesn’t matter how good he smells or how safe I feel in his arms.
That thought stops me cold. Safe. I felt safe with Drake even though I hardly knew him. Which means we are probably fated mates.
Nope, that’s ridiculous.
I push myself up from the floor, my legs still unsteady beneath me. I need tea. Maybe it can help calm my nerves and help me think clearly. I walk to the tiny kitchen, fill the ancient kettle with water, and set it on the stove, turning the burner on high.
While I wait for the water to boil, I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold without his warmth. No, I will not think about how it felt to have his arms around me. I will not remember the solid weight of his chest against my back, the gentle rhythm of his breathing as he slept beside me.
I look around the apartment, suddenly noticing how the scents have shifted. Mother’s lavender candles, which have permeated every corner of this place for years, are fading. The apartment no longer smells like her.
Instead, it smells like him. Like Drake. His alpha scent has infiltrated my home just as thoroughly as he did.
I slowly inhale his scent deeply. It’s strangely addictive like always. Oh my god, what the hell is wrong with me?
I’ve never been affected by anyone’s scent the way I am by his. It’s like my body knows something my mind doesn’t, some ancient omega awakening encoded into my body.
The kitchen suddenly feels too small with his scent in the air.
I need to move around or something. I somehow drift back toward the bedroom, my feet carrying me there without conscious thought. Standing in the doorway, I stare at my rumpled bed and at the clear indentation where his body lay next to mine.
I cross the room and hesitantly climb onto the mattress where Drake was lying next to me. I’m scared, but I press my face into the pillow where he slept just to see if his scent is still there.
Oh god, yes.
His scent is the strongest here. So rich and complex. His scent is so very alpha, and it makes my heart beat faster against my will.
I can’t move away from his pillow.
The sheets are still warm from his body, and I curl into them, breathing him in.
The anger I felt when I found him here begins to fade, replaced by a strange, hollow ache.
I know I was right to kick him out. He invaded my space, crossed boundaries no one should cross.
But some small, desperate part of me wishes he were still here.
I’ve been so alone for years. An unmated omega working as a nanny, always celebrating marriages and births of other packs’ lives but never truly belonging. And I was always careful to show I wasn’t envious.
And suddenly, this alpha awakens something inside me.
I press my face deeper into the pillow, losing myself in his scent. My body responds instantly, a deep ache building low in my belly. My skin feels too tight, too hot, and I shift restlessly against the sheets.
This intense need feels wild to me. Absolutely wild as I writhe around the spot where he slept. All rational thought is out the door.
Slick begins to seep down my thighs, my pussy clenching wildly as his scent overwhelms me.
My heart races as my breath comes faster.
I can’t understand this illogical primal desire going through my body.
Pressing my thighs tight, I try calm myself down, but it only makes me hornier. The ache is getting worse.
Whimpering softly into his pillow, my body trembles with an intense need for release.
I’ve touched myself before, of course, but it’s always been a quick release when I’ve felt randomly horny. Never felt an intense need like this.
The teapot’s shrill whistle cuts through the haze of arousal, making me jolt upright. I stumble back to the kitchen on unsteady legs, turning off the burner with a shaking hand. The tea sits forgotten as I practically run back to the bedroom, back to his scent.
I want to be absorbed in his scent. If Drake saw me now, lusting and salivating over his scent, I would literally die of embarrassment. But the thought of him watching me makes me even hornier.
I collapse onto the bed, burying my face in the pillow again. This time, I don’t fight the heat spreading through my body. I surrender to it, letting it wash over me in waves. This desperate, clawing need makes my skin burn and my core ache.
Without thinking, I push my pajama pants and underwear down my legs, kicking them off impatiently.
The cool air of the apartment hits my heated skin, making me shiver.
I’m wearing only my oversized t-shirt now, and I pull it up as I squeeze one of my breasts.
I have larger than average breasts, which I’ve always tried to hide with baggy clothes.
I close my eyes, breathing in Drake’s scent as my hand drifts lower, past my belly button, through the soft curls between my legs. My fingers find wetness there, more than I’ve ever produced before. I’m soaked, slick coating my inner thighs and dripping onto the sheets beneath me.
“Oh god,” I whisper, shocked at how wet I am right now.
I run a finger along my drenched pussy lips. Slick drenches my hand as I press my throbbing clit.
Oh, moons, it feels so fucking good.
Overwhelmed with the need for something to go deep inside, I slowly try pushing a finger into my wet pussy hole.
I’ve never pushed my fingers deep before, always too nervous about the pain, but I’m literally turning feral over Drake’s scent.
My finger meets the resistance of my hymen. My virgin wall. I pull back, not ready to break through it, not like this, not alone. Instead, I focus on the bundle of nerves above my entrance, the part of me that’s always brought the most pleasure.
I circle my clit with two fingers, my hips bucking involuntarily at the sensation. It’s so much more intense than usual, every nerve ending alive and sensitive. I moan softly, pressing my face deeper into the pillow while on my belly, breathing in Drake’s scent with every panting breath.
My fingers work faster, circling and rubbing as pleasure builds inside me. I imagine it’s his hand between my legs, his fingers teasing me, his voice in my ear telling me what a good girl I am. The fantasy makes me whimper, my hips rocking against my hand as I chase my release.
My body tightens, that coiling tension building faster in my belly. I’m panting now, my face pressed into the pillow, his scent filling my lungs with every desperate breath.
Rubbing harder and faster, the pleasure intensifies every second.
“Oh, Drake!” I cry out.
His name tears from my throat as my body convulses, pussy clenching and throbbing as waves of pleasure crash over me. My thighs shake, my back arches, and slick gushes from my center, soaking the sheets beneath me.
I cry out again, the orgasm stronger than any I’ve ever experienced, leaving me trembling and gasping for breath. For long moments, I can only lie there, shuddering with aftershocks as my body slowly comes down from its high.
When I can finally move again, I roll onto my back, staring up at the cracked ceiling.
I suddenly feel empty and hollow. My body is satisfied, but something deeper in me aches with loneliness.
I just called out a stranger’s name while bringing myself to orgasm—a guy I’ve met twice, who broke into my home. Is there something wrong with me?
I sigh, pressing my palms against my eyes.
Loneliness surrounds me, heavier than before. I’ve never really wanted a pack of my own until now. Never really felt the lack of it. But suddenly, I can imagine how it might feel to be cherished, protected, and loved by alphas who see me as their heart, their home, and their queen.
“Stop it,” I mutter to myself, sitting up and reaching for my discarded pajama pants. “You don’t need a pack. You don’t need him. You’re doing fine on your own and are a successful nanny.”
But as I clean myself up, I can’t help noticing how empty the apartment feels, how silent. And I can’t help wondering what it would be like to have Drake here, holding me through the night and staying with me afterward.