Chapter 7
Adrian
I’m sitting cross-legged in my nest, pretending I’m not straining to catch a whiff of Leo’s scent.
He said he’s coming back, but he might not.
Maybe with some distance, he’s realised this is a bad idea.
I’m a bad idea. My rational mind agrees—Leo deserves so much better than paying a prostitute every night.
God, I shudder at the thought of him paying me. It makes everything feel dirty, contractual. I know I can’t spend that money. I’ll send it back to him. It’s a ridiculous amount, but not too much yet. If he doesn’t come back tonight, he won’t have broken the bank with last night.
I twist my hands together and look at them, trying and failing to quell the heartbreak at the thought of him not coming back even though I know it’s for the best. There’s no future here.
Omegas age out of brothels and end up in factories or other menial jobs, contracted to yet another alpha.
The stories of how omegas branded with the swallow are used are enough to give you nightmares if you think about it too much.
At least while we’re at the brothel there’s the illusion of control—we can choose not to see certain alphas—and our “workday” isn’t too long or tedious.
Sure, I’d rather not feel like a part of me was being stolen every single time one of them took me, but I guess the payoff is a relatively safe place to sleep, regular meals, a decent work schedule, and friends.
But the thought of Leo in this place still makes me feel disgusting. My longing aside, it’s better if he doesn’t come. My eyes well with tears—God, years of not crying and now I’m a fucking faucet. I blink rapidly to stop them.
The smell of salt on the wind rushes into the room, making butterflies flutter in my stomach.
“Addie?” Leo calls, voice unsure yet loud over the noise from downstairs.
I clear my throat. “In here.”
But he’s already moving closer—no doubt scenting me—and I look up and meet his wide, relieved smile.
I can’t help grinning in return, tears spilling down my cheeks. “Hi,” I say.
His smile slips. “Addie, what is it?”
He rushes over to me and falls to his knees. “Did someone hurt you?”
“No.” I shake my head and lean into the hand he places tentatively on the side of my face. “I’m just happy.”
I know my scent is blooming with joy at seeing him. I also know I should be telling him to leave, putting what’s better for him above my own needs. But my scent can’t lie—I’m so happy to see him again it’s like I could burst, and I can’t stop the truth of that.
His answering grin reminds me of when we were boys, his pure, unbridled joy. Leo liked anything to do with speed—ice-skating, go-carting, anything that made the rush of wind streak over his face. It’s why he dreamed of the Air Force. “Nothing faster,” he used to say with giddiness in his eyes.
“Hi,” he says around his perfect white teeth. He tackles me to the ground, and we fall back against the pillows, laughing.
Burying my face in the crook of his neck and shoulder, I take a deep hit of his scent.
“Did you shower?” I ask, my lips skimming his skin.
He shakes his head, his own face buried against my throat.
“No,” he replies, muffled. “Want to smell like you.”
I giggle, charmed and electrified all at once. “You can smell like me again after tonight. I mean …” I backtrack quickly. It still feels so bold to assume.
Leo pulls back and studies my face. “After we do stuff tonight?” he asks hopefully.
I exhale in relief. “Yes.”
“Good.” His smile is smaller now, turning heated. He leans down to kiss me and I’m lost.
We came in our pants again, but Leo finally relents to having a shower if I join him. The bathroom attached to my room is tiny, a perfunctory thing—toilet crammed against the side of a shower stall, the paint peeling, cornices and ceiling stained with mould. I’m embarrassed to lead Leo in there.
I turn around to see if he’s following. He’s staring at me with parted lips and wide eyes. He’s trying to get his boots off, hopping around on one foot and scrabbling at the boot on the other foot while his gaze roves all over my body.
I can’t help it, I laugh at him.
“Shut up,” he mutters, but he’s smiling that shy smile again.
I face the shower stall, take a deep breath for courage, and reach for my waistband. It’s ridiculous, I’ve lost count of the number of alphas who’ve seen me naked, and while it still makes me nervous each time, Leo is different.
Of course Leo’s different. I want Leo to like what he sees. And not in the usual way of omegas wanting alphas to like us, but I want Leo to like my body because it’s mine, not because I’m an omega.
He crowds up behind me before I can spiral further.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he whispers against the shell of my ear. “I can shower alone. I was just joking when I said I’d only shower if you came with me. I mean, I want that, but only if you do too.”
He’s rambling, a hesitancy to his tone I once knew so well.
All the times he’d make a choice for me, like when he was at my house and he’d pick a horror movie for us to watch and I’d scrunch my face up, he’d backtrack adorably, trying so hard to make sure I knew he’d do whatever I wanted to do while also not putting me in a position to assert my will over an alpha.
“I want to,” I tell him. His hands slip around my waist and pull me back against his chest. “I’m just, I don’t know …” I close my eyes and tell the truth, my scent is broadcasting it anyway. “Nervous.”
“Nervous? Why?” he asks as if he can’t imagine a world where I’d be nervous around him.
“I want, well …” I clasp my hands over his. “I want you to like … me. What you see.”
Desire washes over me like the crashing of a wave.
“Addie.” He says my name like it’s something profound. “Believe me, I’m going to like everything about you. Fucking everything. I already do.”
Well, it’s not like he hasn’t seen me almost naked before, getting changed out of my wetsuit, but that was before.
“Okay,” I say, gaze fixed on the cracked tiles. I do my best to believe he’s going to like this scrawny version of me and go for my buttons.
His hand stops me.
“Let me?” he says softly against my ear. His fingers brush over mine, and Jesus, I just came and I’m on a hair-trigger for it again.
I nod, dropping my head to my chest to watch.
His hands are so big—long, thick fingers, tanned skin.
His blunt nails are brittle at the ends like he’s been biting them again.
It’s a nervous habit. I don’t remember them looking like that last night.
I know he was anxious when he got here, but it’s still difficult to fathom.
Leo’s always been so confident—it was no surprise when he presented as an alpha.
He was ordering everyone around on the playground when we were in preschool.
And he was the guy all our friends turned to when a decision needed to be made in primary school, in high school.
I can still see it—Leo, assuming that authority effortlessly as he said, “We’ll play football at recess and use the courts after lunch,” and “Addie says there’s a swell, so we’ll surf and then have a bonfire on the beach,” and then he’d proceed to tell each person what to bring.
His bouts of nervousness when we were teenagers were few and far between, and always only between us, as far as I could tell, though I never got why. Who would get nervous around me?
His fingers tremble as they slide beneath mine and pop the button. The kiss to my temple as he crowds me is shaky, and he works open each button slowly before sliding his big palms to my hips under the material.
I’m already panting. I’d be embarrassed if I could feel anything beyond the heat pooling in my groin, the stiffening of my cock, and the copious amounts of slick drenching my hole.
He pushes my pants down my hips, the warmth of his touch grounding and electrifying all at once.
When his chest slides down my back, I crane my head over my shoulder to see him crouching behind me.
My heart pounds as he meets my eyes. He runs those powerful hands down my legs, taking my jeans and boxers with him.
As his hand clasps each foot, I step out of my left and then my right pant leg. He runs his hands up and down my calves, his eyes never leaving mine. He can see everything—the slick sliding down my thighs, my bony ass, the pasty whiteness of my skin, a body too skinny to be attractive.
But Leo smells like nothing but desire, wave after wave of it crashing on a shore.
“You’re fucking perfect,” he says as his hands continue to caress my legs, my outer thighs, the crease between my ass and thigh.
I shiver. “You too.”
He straightens, pulls me close, and kisses my throat. “Turn the shower on, get in.”
I do as I’m told with shaking hands, listening to his pants drop behind me. Stepping under the spray, I turn back quickly to look at him.
And dear fucking God, he dwarfs the space. His broad shoulders and well-defined torso heave with his erratic breaths as he scans me from head to toe, gaze wild but tentative. He steps forward as if asking for permission.
I’m drawn to look at his cock. I swallow.
I’ve felt it through his pants, so I knew it was big, and I’ve had big, but this is something else.
The length and thickness of it, hard and pointing up to his stomach, the delicate veins pronounced against the steel-like shaft.
It’s a dick to match the rest of him—the muscled thighs, strong arms. He was always big, but now he’s become a man, an alpha. A powerful, imposing alpha.
“Okay?” he asks, and I rip my gaze away from his cock because that sounded unsure. Is he fucking serious?
“Yeah …” My voice is a husk. I clear my throat. “Jesus, yes.”
He chuckles and steps into my space, nerves and uncertainty fading from his scent as he slips his hands around my waist, and bends to kiss me with a gentle brush of his lips.