CHAPTER TWELVE - BIRDIE
I blink at the venom under his raspy tone, but he’s holding the wafer out, and I open my mouth without thinking. It’s like a snowflake on my tongue, only it doesn’t burn with cold as it melts. Instead, it fills my throat with a delicious, healing warmth.
“Better?”
I lean back on my hands, my eyes fluttering closed. “Better,” I whisper.
“Good.” His voice is thick with satisfaction, but as he takes a step away, I peel my lashes open. He’s reaching for the smoothie, but I hook my legs around him before he can go too far. The wafer has ignited more pleasurable memories, and it’s not breakfast I’m craving now.
As I pull him closer, he looks down his long nose at me, a hint of fire simmering in his eyes. “This feels familiar. You planning on picking my pocket again, Omega?”
I arch a brow at him. “Your knife was right there on your belt. Besides, you said it was mine for the taking.”
“It was,” he grunts, then lifts the smoothie up to my nose. “You need to drink this, Omega.”
I do. I need the calories, and it smells delicious, but I want to taste Hog more. “Shut up and put your damn tongue in my mouth.”
He grunts at my bossy tone, but he doesn’t hesitate to set the drink down and wrap his hands around my waist. I stiffen at the contact, and they quickly return to my knees.
Supporting, more than holding, and even then, he keeps his touch light.
I look down at his thick fingers, imagining them carving the delicate rosebuds out of the wood I’m sitting on.
Hands that break, but also hands that create.
It’s a strange concept for an alpha, but it really seems that Hog is a different beast.
I lean forward and he meets me halfway. He’s so damn tall he has to stoop to reach me, even though I’m perched on the dresser.
But he doesn’t seem to mind, especially when I reach up and grab his beard.
I think of that scar on his throat; a souvenir of survival.
Maybe that’s why I feel this strange connection to him.
Although, as much as we both know what it’s like to lose our voices, our situations aren't the same.
He walked away from his battlefield, while mine is still ticking inside my head.
I push the disturbing thought aside as I give his beard another tug and our lips finally connect.
Unfamiliar pleasure prickles down my spine, making my toes curl.
His mouth is warm and soft, and it slides over mine like they were made to fit.
He slants his head sideways and I follow his lead, tugging gently on his beard.
He pauses, like he’s waiting to see if I’ll object, so I flick the tip of my tongue into his mouth, tasting the fullness of his full bottom lip.
A rumble of pleasure greets my invading tongue and I clutch his forearms, my head spinning at his nearness.
I haven’t had a lot of kisses, but I’m guessing this is a good one.
Hog seems to agree, because his scent spikes between us, filling my lungs with his smoky arousal.
I feel an answering throb deep in my belly, and I tighten my legs around his hips.
He sways towards me, the kiss deepening as his groin brushes mine.
I groan, the sound so raw and needy, I blush. But Hog knows an invitation when he hears one and his fingers slide up my thighs, squeezing the flesh. I shudder under his hands. “You’re perfect, Omega. I want to kiss every inch of you.”
It’s a lie - at least the perfect part – but I understand the urge to taste his skin.
His flavor is addicting, his scent so delicious I can’t stop my body from begging for more.
It bubbles out of me until wetness soaks the inside of my sweats.
Hog groans and rubs his thickening cock against the flush of slick.
I tilt my head back, reveling in the overwhelming sensations.
It’s never felt like this. The only pleasure I’ve ever taken was rushed and desperate. A handy cock or a rough finger, racing to get us both off before my stepfather found us and beat the words ‘off limits’ into our skin.
But Hog acts like we have all the time in the world. I’m not so much an unfamiliar body as a new land he’s slowly exploring, each touch so gentle and thorough, my skin vibrates with the need for more.
I tug his beard, making my impatience known.
Hog grunts and his mouth buzzes along my jaw, licking and tasting.
My hands are equally greedy, sliding around his bulk to cup his ass.
The slabs of muscle strain against the fabric of his cargoes, and I tug him towards me, rubbing more of that thick, hot shaft against my hungry core.
It’s torture, but also the best kind of tease.
Another moan escapes me, and my lashes flutter shut.
I’m thinking about all the ways we could ease the ache inside me when he lays his mouth on my neck.
It’s not quite touching my scent gland, but it’s close enough to imagine how it would feel.
Not just tasting me, but claiming me, and my body flushes both hot and cold at once.
What the hell?
Liking an alpha’s scent is one thing, but thinking about his teeth buried in my neck? Who am I right now?
“It’s okay, Omega,” Hog rumbles, his voice a ragged throb. “I’d never bite you without a whole lot of discussion beforehand.”
I pull back, my stomach flipping that he can read me so easily. “You think I want that? An alpha sinking his teeth into me?”
His hands drop to my hips, his scent warm with arousal and something that tastes like…
affection? “You gotta admit, there’s something pretty amazing happening here, Omega.
I know you’re on suppressants, but I could smell you before I even entered the cabin that first day.
I wasn’t planning on going further than my workshop, but as soon as I caught a whiff, I couldn’t stop myself.
And the way we’re reacting to each other now, I’m pretty sure we’re scent mates. ”
I jolt, his words like a bucket of iced water over my head. All those gooey, golden feelings shrivel in an instant, and I’m suddenly light-headed for all the wrong reasons.
Hog must sense my distress, because he hastens to add, “Like I said, we need to talk about things. Take it slow. But I’ve got to say, it feels like you were made for me, Omega.”
“Made for you?”
He doesn’t seem to hear the undertone of horror in my scratchy whisper.
Instead, he nuzzles along my cheek, his hands gentle as they skim my arms, all the way up to my neck.
“Everything about you calls to me. Nothing ever felt as right as touching you, breathing you in… You tell me this is some kind of spell, and I’d believe you. ”
And that makes Reeves what…? A magician?
Because the only reason I’m here is that he handpicked me for this mission.
And I can’t forget that Reeves knows the Lawson Pack, or at the very least, is familiar enough with their personnel files to set up this little experiment.
And if he knows them, then he knows their scent profiles.
The military are obsessive about recording designations, scents, and dominance levels, in case an alpha suddenly goes feral around a compatible omega…
An omega like me.
Did Reeves fuck with my scent so that Hog would fall under my spell?
The idea is so painful to me – so repulsive - I push away from Hog with all my strength.
He’s clearly not expecting it, because he actually stumbles back a step.
I wait for his angry bark, but he just blinks at me in confusion.
He rubs his jaw and regret instantly bleeds into his eyes.
“Shit. That was stupid. I don’t mean that I didn’t love your brother… ”
Goddamn it. It’s just another layer of Reeves’ manipulation, and the devil’s face suddenly swims before my eyes, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic light.
Despite being the director of the lab, he liked to be as close as possible when they tried out a new experiment.
As if he could drink down my fear and pain, growing bloated and drunk on my whimpers and moans.
He was the worst kind of parasite, hovering over me as I shook and trembled through hours of torment.
“Hey,” Hog says softly, his thumb grazing my cheek, “are you okay?”
I shake my head, even though it feels like it’s clamped to my neck with rusty nails.
He drops his hand, concern flickering in his eyes. “Is it Charlie, or did I spring the scent mates thing on you too soon?”
God, he keeps saying the words aloud!
And what the hell is that soft look on his face, like he thinks I’m going to fall into his arms just because his scent doesn’t turn my stomach?
And why exactly doesn’t it make me sick?
My mind churns with horrible possibilities.
Reeves loved messing with my senses. Light deprivation, alpha barks, noxious scents...
The asshole could have sent any of his broken omegas to this pack. But he chose me. And now I’m reacting to one of the alphas like he’s somehow hardwired into my system.
Which is insane. My scent is suppressed almost to extinction.
And even if it wasn’t, I will never accept a scent match.
Every time an omega at the compound matched with alphas, she was treated even worse than before, since an alpha bark is about a thousand times harder to resist when it comes from one of your so-called fated mates.
Just like my mom…
I always knew Mother Nature was a bitch, but when she scent-matched my mom to my stepfather, I knew she was heartless, too.
Screw biology, I’m not letting some guy trap me just because he smells good.
“Get out.”
I don’t have a bark, but the way Hog reacts, you’d think I was a Rottweiler with a bad case of rabies. His brow drops low, his huge body clenching like a fist. “Omega…”
“Get out!” I yell, hating the way my voice trembles with rage and fear. The rage is good, but the fear tears at the shreds of my suppressants, making Hog’s nostrils flare at my distress. Even now, his fingers twitch, like he wants to lean forward and comfort me…
Comfort me? More likely he wants to wrap those huge hands around my neck and squeeze. So I’ll know exactly what it feels like to be bitten, collared, and owned…
“No match!” I spit as I slide off the dresser, doing everything I can to avoid touching him again. “I won’t be your omega, Hog. Not now. Not ever.”
I expect him to growl, maybe even summon a bark from his barrel chest. Omegas don’t choose, they submit. But his face closes like a slammed door. For just a second, I see something that looks like hurt before his expression goes blank.
I watch him warily, but instead of stalking towards me, he takes a step away. The chill in the attic prickles over my skin and the smoky flavors in the air are replaced by a sour, scorched note of rejection.
Good riddance. He can take his scent match bullshit and bury it under a snowdrift.
So why does my chest clench as he backs out of the door without another word?