ELIANO #3
However, his heartbeat accelerates even more.
Though I’m pretty sure it’s not from stress.
His body is hot and firm under my touch, his pulse vibrating beneath my lips.
I breathe him in, and I already know it is not cologne or shower gel.
It is something subtle and natural, barely there, an intoxicating blend of fresh kiwi and yuzu that makes my head spin.
"What do you want?" he murmurs, his voice sounding rough near my ear.
"A claim on you," I answer in the AO sound language, fully aware he cannot understand a word, but I’m pretty sure he would not approve.
I slowly pull my mouth away from his neck, and suddenly we are face-to-face. His hands rest against my chest, still bound in cuffs. The cigarette is gone, dropped somewhere when I yanked him toward me.
Up close, Salt looks younger and more vulnerable than he does from a distance. My gaze lingers on his soft mouth for a second too long, and those lips twist immediately.
"Talk normally, not in those animal growls of yours. What do you want?"
"Nothing special. But from now on, you’re mine. I won’t let anyone lay a hand on you."
"Wow. Is this that famous alpha possessiveness?" he says, but his voice is strangely uneven, breathy, and his heart keeps pounding.
Looks like he likes it.
Suddenly he lifts his hands higher, gripping the T-shirt fabric at my chest. He pulls me down toward him slowly, and when he tilts his head, I know he is not aiming for a kiss.
I let him draw me closer, and then he does something completely unexpected.
He drags his tongue slowly along my temple and brow, licking away the blood seeping from the cut one of the alphas gave me.
The sensation is strange, especially because I only now discover that Salt has a small piercing at the tip of his tongue.
He pulls back slightly, tilting his head, and I see my blood on his parted lips.
He laughs like he’s crazy, then shoves me away with a sharp push and takes a step back.
"That alpha mating crap won’t work on me. You’ll need a different strategy," he says, then bends down, picks up his cigarette, and sticks it back in the corner of his mouth like nothing happened.
And yet, despite his words, I know exactly what I felt when I pressed him against me.
The hardness against my thigh. So the alpha mating crap worked after all?
I exhale slowly and fight the urge to adjust myself, because I am dealing with the same unexpected reaction, which feels absurd given how bizarre this entire situation is.
I lean back against the bus, and only then do I notice Gross staring at us with his mouth hanging open.
"Yeah, I know how it probably looks to a beta, but I can’t help what I am." I shrug.
"How did you manage to stay on your feet after a taser hit? I’ve never seen anyone take that and still move."
I let out a dry, slightly pained laugh.
"Like all my brothers, I’ve got a metal rod installed in my body. My uncle put it there so he could shock us when he decided we were being disobedient." I glance up at the sky, fully aware that Salt can hear every word.
"Over time, you build a certain tolerance. Maybe more mental than physical. Electricity is still electricity, but it’s enough to make a difference."
"Well," Gross mutters philosophically, "sometimes a curse comes with a blessing."
Salt stays quiet, but I catch his eyes flicking toward me from the corner of my vision.
He keeps smoking in silence, drawing in deep breaths, his heart still racing. Interesting. Maybe he is only tough on the surface? Underneath, his body reacts like anyone else’s would after an attempted rape.
"Are you okay?" I ask, keeping my gaze fixed on the distance, on the buildings lining the side of the state road, not wanting to push him.
"What should I expect from alphas? You’re animals. That never changes. I’m not surprised."
He does not answer how he feels. He only talks about his attackers. Evasive. So I don’t answer. What would I even say?
It’s true. Alphas have much higher testosterone levels than the humans who lived before ABO society, whose hormone ranges were closer to those of betas.
Both alphas and omegas function at far higher hormonal extremes, which means our instincts run deeper and often overpower reason.
For alphas, learning control can take time and usually requires firm guidance during their teenage years, ideally from a strong alpha, to prevent entering Musth.
If those early energetic patterns are weak or flawed, instability later on is almost inevitable.
I owe my own energetic structure to Uncle Albert, who was a mature and stable alpha.
I glance at Salt. He is still somewhat pale.
"Have you ever had an alpha boyfriend?" the question slips out before I have time to think it through.
Salt snorts. "Are you joking? No! As you can see, being around you is always a threat."
"The eternal dilemma. An alpha man or a bear?"
"I’d choose the bear every time," Salt grimaces. "Can you really blame me?"
I shrug. "I’ll take that hit, even though I’m not one of them. Not one of the bad ones, anyway."
Salt doesn’t comment.
We stand there a little longer, and then three cars pull up. In the first one are two people. Storm is one of them. The other takes me a second to recognize, but then it clicks. The lawyer, Jordan Arnold. I’m genuinely surprised that he even came here. In his condition? Seems like a big deal case.
Mr. Gessler arrives in the second car, parking right next to Storm’s. In the third, the largest vehicle, there’s another man, probably a warden from the Second Chance detention center, along with two beta guards.
Everyone gets out.
Storm helps Jordan out of the car. The lawyer leans slightly on his shoulder, moving toward us, dragging his left leg a bit. The injuries he sustained during the attack on Blue Lowen are clearly more serious than I realized when I’d only seen him on a screen during our online call.
Only now can I confirm that he’s a beta, but very tall for his subgender, actually on the lower end of the typical alpha height range, close to six foot four, and solidly built, which surprises me.
They approach us together. When Storm sees the cut on my brow and the bruises and scratches on Salt’s face, he swears loudly.
"Fuck. How did this even happen?"
Jordan’s mouth twists in displeasure as he turns his gaze to Mr. Gessler.
"This is big. Fate’s Choice is going to file a lawsuit for endangering our ward—" he starts.
"Let’s not escalate things, Mr. Arnold!" Gessler cuts in as the warden also approaches. "This is an internal Second Chance matter. We will handle it with disciplinary action."
"Internal? No, it’s not. This is a criminal offense—" Jordan begins again, but this time I interject, frowning at Mr. Gessler.
"An attempted rape can never be an internal matter!"
Well, I have two years of studying criminal law, so I know a bit about those things.
Gessler snaps his hand up sharply.
"We are taking over from here. And I can promise you, this will be treated with full seriousness."
"I would like to be included in the process," Jordan insists in an icy tone. Fate’s Choice already took a reputation hit after the bombing. They obviously won’t accept another scandal.
Gessler’s jaw tightens. "Fine. You can come with me."
"Wait. What about Salt’s transport?" I need to know.
"We will take him in our vehicle and deliver him to the port," the warden says, his brow deeply furrowed.
"Yeah, sorry, not gonna happen. I’m not taking my eyes off him. Not after this!" I reply, pushing my jaw forward as a low AO sound slips from my throat.
An open claim. On Salt.
I make it so it’s in a frequency that is still audible to a beta ear.
My eyes land on him at the same time, and our gazes meet. I half expect him to laugh or protest, but strangely, he says nothing. It’s as if he allows me to take over decisions regarding his safety. That’s unexpected. Or maybe I’m underestimating what this situation was to him?
The warden frowns. "This is not up for discussion. This is a matter of transport and security."
"Transport and security?" I snap. "Those two words clearly don’t belong together in your case. If it weren’t for me, this would have ended in a gang rape, for fuck’s sake!"
Jordan steps in again.
"I strongly suggest you make extra room in the vehicle for Mr. Eliano. There is a signed and valid marriage contract in place. Eliano, as an alpha, has the legally accepted claim on Salt. That is natural law, an alpha’s right.
And given your failure to ensure security, he, as Salt’s spouse, has a right to intervene. "
"We don’t transport civilians in—"
"I think we can make an exception," Gessler says sharply, fixing the warden with a hard look. He probably realizes he needs to do some damage control, before Jordan will start to speak about financial compensation, and I’m pretty sure he’s close to using this argument.
The warden mutters something under his breath, then nods.
"Fine!"
"Great!" Storm claps loudly and immediately waves a hand at me. "Get Salt’s things, grab yours, put everything in the trunk, and move. We’ve argued about this long enough," he says irritably. "And as far as I know, Gomez is already waiting at the port."
I let out a breath. Only now do I realize how tense I’ve been. But knowing I’ll be riding with Salt brings an unexpected wave of relief.
Interestingly, at that exact moment, Salt’s pulse drops slightly as well. Did he feel it too? Maybe, on some level, he appreciates my protection, even if he wouldn’t consciously perceive it that way.
Gross brings Salt’s suitcase. I grab my backpack from Storm’s car. Together with the two beta guards, we head for the prison van.
Jordan and Storm walk behind us.
Salt is seated on one side, cuffed to the restraints. I’m instructed to sit opposite him.
Storm leans slightly into the car. "You’ve got the phone. Feel free to contact us anytime if anything happens."