Chapter 11 #2
My lips part, and my teeth find her skin. My canines push in, slow and inevitable, nicking the delicate flesh, and the taste of her hits my tongue like a key turning in a lock I didn't know I had.
The taste of her floods my mouth. Lush pear, sweet vanilla, and sharp blood.
My eyes float closed, and the last of my control falls away.
My jaw clamps down with a force that doesn't belong to me, stabbing down into her soft, perfect neck.
The second my teeth break skin, a violent, convulsive heat erupts at the base of my cock.
It's a blinding, internal pressure that swells beyond all reason, a brutal, undeniable expansion.
My knot, thick and hard, pops into place so hard my vision cuts to white, locking us together as my orgasm slams into me.
It starts at the base of my spine and rolls through my entire body.
Every nerve lights up, every muscle seizing.
A sound tears from my chest that isn't a growl or a moan but something more primal, something that belongs to the animal at the bottom of my brain that has wanted this since the moment I walked into this tent.
Beneath me, Elowen’s body goes taut. A strangled cry catches in her throat as my knot stretches her impossibly wide. Her back arches, her fingers digging into my scalp.
Then she melts.
Every muscle releases at once and she sinks into the dirt floor, her inner walls clamping down on me in frantic, rhythmic convulsions that milk the knot in waves of unbearable pleasure. We are fused, two bodies locked into one frantic, perfect, agonizing whole, and there is no escape.
Moving slowly, I unclench my jaw and release her neck. The bite mark is deep. Two crescents of broken skin, already bruising at the edges, blood beading in the indentations.
My mark.
My claim.
Permanent and undeniable.
The storm in my head begins to settle as I stare at the mark on her neck, and the gravity of it slams into my chest.
What the fuck did I do?
I mated a woman I don't know, whose name I read off a badge ten minutes ago, in a storage tent in the middle of the fucking black market.
Oh my god.
Elowen's eyes flutter.
She's woozy, her gaze unfocused, drifting in and out like someone fighting to stay awake.
But she doesn't pass out. Her hand lifts, slow and uncoordinated, and her fingertips find the bite mark on her neck.
She touches it gently, pressing into the sting, and a soft, satisfied sound hums from her throat.
She doesn't look scared or angry.
In fact, she looks as if she found something she's been missing her whole life.
And something inside me shifts.
My panic doesn't disappear. It's still there, humming in the background. But the way she's touching the mark on her neck with a soft, dazed reverence does something to me.
She’s mine.
Whatever this is, whatever catastrophe I set into motion, this woman is lying beneath me looking like the world finally stopped hurting, and I'm the reason.
It makes me feel unreasonably good.
Moving slowly, I lean down and rest my forehead against hers.
Our breathing is ragged and tangled together, her exhale becoming my inhale, and I can taste pear and vanilla on every breath.
Her fingers are loose in my hair now, her thumbs tracing slow, absent circles behind my ears.
Her eyes are half-closed, her lips swollen and parted, and there's a softness to her face that wasn't there before.
Like the storm passed through and left something quiet in its wake.
I kiss her, slow and warm, my mouth barely moving against hers, and she hums into it, a low, satisfied sound that vibrates against my lips.
For exactly four seconds, I forget where I am.
Then I hear voices.
They cut through the canvas walls, muffled but close.
Two men, maybe three, their footsteps crunching on the dry ground outside the tent.
My body reacts before my brain catches up.
Every muscle locks and I curl over Elowen, pulling her into my chest, my arms forming a cage around her head and shoulders.
My back is to the tent entrance and a growl builds in my throat, low and automatic.
The camp. The market. The job.
My knot.
Fuck!
It all comes flooding back like cold water dumped over my skull.
I need to get her out of here, without anyone noticing what she is. Unfortunately, my pack is waiting for me on the other side of the camp, and it doesn’t help that we’re maybe a hundred fucking yards from the auction platform.
I’m trying to figure out my next move when Elowen stirs beneath me.
Her brow creases and her eyes blink open, glassy and confused, like someone being pulled out of a deep sleep. I can see her trying to think, trying to surface through the heat fog.
For a second, something sharp and clear flickers behind her eyes. Awareness. She knows something is wrong. Her gaze darts to the tent flap, then back to me, and her hand tightens on my arm.
"Someone's coming," I breathe. “Be quiet.”
She nods, silently telling me she heard them too.
The footsteps stop right outside the tent.
"Who's in there?" The voice is male. Beta. Loud and pissed. The clipped, authoritative bark of someone who runs things around here and isn't used to surprises. "This area is restricted for employees only. Identify yourself, or I'm sending security in."
Elowen's whole body goes rigid beneath me.
My knot tugs inside her as she tenses, the swollen base pulling against her clenched muscles.
White-hot pain lances through me, making me hiss through my teeth.
She whimpers. It's a sharp, sickening ache that radiates outward from where we're locked together, a brutal reminder that neither of us is going anywhere until my body decides we're done.
Trying to stay calm, I watch the panic flood back into the omega. Her breath hitches and her fingers dig into my biceps hard enough to bruise.
She's shaking again, but it's not from her heat.
It’s fear.
She looks up at me, and for the first time since I walked into this tent, I see the person underneath all of it. Scared. Lucid enough to know exactly how much trouble she's in. And completely unable to do a single thing about it.
"Don't move." I murmur against her temple.
Elowen nods once, then I open my mouth, ready to tell the asshole outside to fuck off if he values his ability to walk.
"Hey, man! What's going on?"
Perrin.
His voice comes from somewhere to the left, casual and bright. Too bright. It’s the kind of cheerful tone he uses when he’s trying to smooth shit over.
"None of your business." The guard's voice is flat. Unfriendly. "Step back. This area is off-limits to visitors."
"Oh, totally, yeah, I hear you." Perrin gives a polite laugh. Clearly trying to sound disarming. "It's just, my pack alpha is in that tent. Big guy, dark hair? He wasn't feeling great. I think the heat got to him. You know how it is out here. Ninety degrees, no shade. Alphas don't hydrate enough."
He's rambling, clearly trying to buy time.
God, I could kiss him.
"I don't care if he's the fucking pope." The unknown beta isn't buying it. "Nobody's supposed to be in these storage units. Especially not a goddamn alpha. Now, move aside."
"Is there a problem here?" Raff’s voice hits my ears and some of the tension in my abs falls away.
I can't hear the beta’s response, but I can hear the shift in his tone. His bark softens into something more cautious.
Raff has that effect on people. He doesn't even need to raise his voice. He’s naturally intimidating. Maybe it's all the tattoos. Or the fact that he's six foot four of long, wiry muscle.
"Angelica knows we're here," Raff says, calm as still water.
"We delivered a van full of meds. Sedatives and suppressants.
So unless you want to explain to her why you're hassling the people keeping her supply chain moving, I suggest you let our pack alpha have one fucking minute to collect himself.
" There's a pause, and I can almost see Raff staring the fucker down.
"Or you can give my mate two fucking minutes to collect himself. Your call."
"Your alpha is fucking someone in that tent." The guard's tone is tight. Clipped. Trying to sound in control, but failing miserably.
“Is that right?” Raff shoots back. “Do you have fucking X-ray vision?”
“Half the damn camp heard him.” The guard’s voice rises, clearly pissed. “Acting like that in a camp full of riled-up alphas who are already climbing the walls trying to get at the omegas on the other side of those barriers is beyond inappropriate. It’s dangerous.”
"He's simply relieving some pressure," Raff says coolly, as if discussing the weather. "We had a long, stressful drive, and he’s blowing off some steam. Now, are we done here, or do you want to keep discussing my pack alpha's dick while we both have better things to do?"
"No, we're not done." The guard's voice gets louder. Bolder. The kind of bold that comes from a man who knows he's right and is tired of being talked over. "Something's going on here, and I don't like it. I'm getting Angelica.”
“Something's going on?” Raff lets out a laugh. Short, bitter, mocking. “What the hell does that mean? You think Cliff got his hands on one of the omegas and he’s fucking her stupid in the goddamn supply tent.” He laughs again. “I thought you guys had better security than that.”
The silence that follows is sharp enough to cut glass.
"Whoever is in that tent with him is getting fired." The guard's voice has gone cold. Certain. "And I'm getting Angelica right now."
"Good." Raff's tone hardens a fraction. "Go get her. I'm done explaining myself to you."
The guard says something I can't make out. Raff responds, and whatever he says is low enough that I lose the words through the canvas. But the tension outside shifts. Recedes.
Then the tent flap flutters.
Every muscle in my body coils. I pull Elowen tighter against my chest, then look right at the entrance, teeth bared, a snarl already building in my throat. Underneath me, Elowen whimpers. The noise is small and choked and filled with pure terror.
Her mouth finds my ear. Her lips are trembling so badly I can barely make out the words. "Don't let them take me." Her voice is barely a whisper. Barely even air. "Please. Please don't let them take me."
And that's when I smell her fear.
It’s faint and thin, cutting through the layers of chemical nothingness like a blade through gauze. It’s so sharp, almost metallic, so different from the sweetness I tasted on her tongue that it takes me a second to register it's coming from the same person.
The scent-blockers are cracking. Not much, but enough for an alpha to scent her.
I need to get her out of here before her natural omega aroma seeps through too.
The tent flap flutters again, then it opens, and I bare my teeth. Ready to tear apart whoever steps through it.
But it's Adam.
The beta slips through the flap and lets it fall shut behind him, and for a full three seconds he simply stands there. His wide eyes move from me to the woman curled against my chest to the scrubs on the ground to the state of us both, and his mouth opens slightly. Then closes.
Fuck.
I need to explain myself. To say something to make this better, but right now I’ve got nothing.
“Um.” Adam's throat works. His eyes come back to mine, and I watch him process everything. The shock, the confusion, followed by a rapid-fire of a million questions flashing in his eyes. "Cliff," he says my name so quietly, like he's confirming that I'm real, and my guilt grows tenfold.
I open my mouth to say something, but more voices outside make me freeze. I hear boots on packed earth. Two sets, maybe three, moving with purpose. More guards.
My abs tense, and I shove my guilt aside for now. I don’t have time for it.
If those guards see Elowen like this…if anyone in this camp figures out what she is, they'll rip her away from me, dress her up, and drag her onto that stage in front of a hundred alphas who are ready to pay top dollar for omega-pussy.
Over my dead fucking body.
I look at Adam, and he must see the intensity on my face because something shifts behind his eyes. He quickly pulls himself together the way he always does. Packing away whatever he's feeling so he can deal with the problem in front of him.
Fuck, I really do love him.
“Help me get her dressed," I say. "We have to get her out of here.”