52. Red
Chapter fifty-two
Red
It burns. Everything. My body, the room, my throat, and most of all my head. Even time burns, blurring between shadow and light. I tuck into a ball on the floor, and roll side to side, trying to find a position that doesn’t hurt. A volcano simmers in my core, threatening to erupt through my skin any second. It’ll turn me to ash.
My pussy throbs like it has a life of its own, weeping and wailing for an alpha to cradle it close. The aches ricochet up my torso and down again, building with every tick of the clock on the wall. Each switch of the second hand thumps into me like a blow.
The sound’s so grating, I drag myself over to the wall and spider crawl off the floor to reach it. The polished wood formed in the shape of the continent hosts antique-looking gold hands. I want to set it down and pull the battery out, but I’m not in control. I whimper as O-11 hurls the noisy thing to the floor.
Like me, the clock won’t die easily. The wood splits up the middle and the hour hand goes flying, but the device in the back keeps ticking over. “Stop! Just stop!” I cry as I yank on the pieces.
Stop. The words I desperately wanted the House of Bitches nutjobs to obey. The command I wish O-11 would follow. But the sane Red has flown away. Red alert.
More tears flow down my cheeks to choke me. As I collapse on the floor beside the broken clock, my gaze lands on the hole cut into the bottom of the door.
Whoever’s out there obeyed. I told them to stop, and they stopped cutting. They didn’t come in.
Another spasm hits me in the guts, and I scream. Fresh tongues of heat lick up my chest, scorching me from the inside out. I arch my back off the floor, trying to escape it.
“Red?”
I know that voice. “Rickon?”
“I’m here, Biscuit. I’m right outside the door, for whatever you need.”
I need him, yes, but I can’t trust anyone when my body’s like this. Maybe I dreamed up my alphas as a way to cope with the pain. The betrayal as they take my haze over and over would kill me.
But if he’s real . . .
“Alpha?” I call softly.
“Right here, omega.”
Fresh tears spill down my cheeks. I always wanted someone to call me their omega with such a loving tone. Not even in my dreams did it sound so sweet.
“Please drink more water.” He rolls a bottle through the notch in the door. I slide my body across the floor, panting softly with the effort. When I try to uncap the bottle, it slips in my limp grip.
“I can’t do it,” I whisper between the cramps. I despise this weakness. Vulnerability that anyone can use against me. Even now, the nearby alpha musk drives me to rut into my own hand. Whimpers spill from my throat.
“Can I do it for you, baby?”
I hear the soft crack of plastic, and a second bottle comes through the window, lidless. Rickon holds it in place until I manage to grab it. Our fingers brush for a moment, setting off fresh rushes of heat barreling through my veins.
I gulp water, splashing half the bottle on my face in a futile effort to cool down. It’s quiet outside when I collapse back on the floor. “Alpha?” I call softly, suddenly afraid he won’t respond.
“I’m right here, Red. I’m sitting outside the door.”
I roll onto my knees and shuffle forward until my hands rest on the door. “I can’t let you in.”
“I understand. I’m here to help however you want. You’re not alone, Biscuit.”
His words spark fresh tears. I swallow down a groan of pain as another spasm shocks my body. My pussy wants relief, but my terror looms greater.
I clear my burning throat. “The floor’s hard.”
“Oh, baby,” he croons gently. “I can get you a blanket.” He pauses for a minute, and I hear fragments of a whispered conversation outside before he adds, “Or if you’ll allow it, Callisto will cut some more off the door, and we can pass you the big cushions from the lounge. Not all of it. Just a bigger hole.”
I stare at that gap in the door. I struggle with the choice, knowing the cutter was loud and notched up my anxiety big-time. But he kept his word and didn’t break the door down. The floor’s so hard; it might not hurt this bad if I could lie on something soft.
“The . . . the cushions sound good,” I murmur, whimpering as my belly cramps.
I roll away and clutch my ears shut while they cut the bottom off the door. Someone feeds two big square cushions through, and I grab them eagerly. Two more follow and I drag them into a line, staying near the door. Now I can see shadows when the guys move around, as well as parts of Rickon’s feet and legs when he sits down.
A soft, needy whine ripples up my throat and I scoot my makeshift bed closer to the door. It takes every scrap of courage I possess to ask for more. “I want your hand,” I call. This much should be safe, right?
Rickon’s long, slender fingers immediately shoot under the gap, and I slip mine into his palm. He closes his thumb over the back of my hand, just enough for me to note the pressure of his presence without feeling trapped.
“I’m a bad omega, aren’t I?”
“No, you’re a perfect omega. One I love very much. Nothing you do can scare me away, so just concentrate on getting through your heat. I’ll be right here when you’re done. For every heat, forever.”
Next thing I know, I’m sobbing heavily into the cushion, drenching it with my tears. Deep, guttural cries tear at me, pushing my endurance to the max. And when the tears run dry, a corner of a blanket appears next to Rickon’s hand. Without letting go of his hand, I drag it inside and drape it over me. I have no idea if it’s day or night, but full light blares over me, chasing away the shadows while my alpha keeps me anchored to reality.
My body’s turning into a desert, but I’m so tired I drift off.
I wake from a dream where Rickon had his knot so deep in my pussy I felt his cock nudging my ribs. Passionate mewls spill from me as I discover it’s only a dream. My hips thrust, demanding relief.
“Alpha!” I cry, sitting up and rubbing my spread thighs on the cushion. I’m ready to burst.
“It’s me,” Callisto calls. “I sent Ricky up to take a quick break while you slept.”
I crawl to the door, begging softly. “Help me!”
“Yes, anything! Tell me.”
I lean against the door. Just an inch of wood separates me from the alphas, but I can smell his cherry wood scent through the door, mingling with the sawn-off door timber. I glance up at the lock, knowing it’d be so easy to turn that latch and let them both in.
But that might let the ghosts in too. O-11 won’t allow it, won’t allow anything that threatens us. Instead, I writhe against the door.
“Fuck, I think I’m dying!”
The door shivers as Callisto sets his hands on the other side. “How can I help, Red? Please?”
My knees brush through the cut window at the bottom of the door. I can’t let them in, but maybe—another spasm hits me, and I whimper. I can smell him close. The sweet forest scent hits my nostrils, and a flood of slick cascades down my thighs.
“Hand,” I demand in a whisper.
He hears me and reaches under the door. I guess that takes trust too. Wriggling on the floor, I shed my clothes and lower myself over his hand, gripping the door handle for balance.
“Holy shit,” he mutters as his fingers brush my soaked pussy. “Baby, you know it’s Callisto, yes? Fuck. I’ll get Ricky. I mean, if you want—fuck, sweetheart. You’re so wet.”
His broken babble is exactly what I need to hear. My body spasms, out of patience, and I writhe myself onto his hand. After hours, or maybe days, of waiting, it feels so fucking good that the first slide of his fingers inside sets off an orgasm. I cry out, clenching on his fingers and spilling everywhere.
“Red, you’re so beautiful,” he croons. “Take what you need, sweet girl.” He gently adds another finger, and I cry out, thrusting down and forward with my hips to rut myself on his outstretched arm. His groans add fire to my inferno. “Doing so well. Can you take four?”
I slap my hand against the door and spread my knees wider. “More,” I croak, desperate for friction.
I’m spread so low to the floor he can barely thrust his fingers, but all I need is tension. He adds one more finger, and I sob as another orgasm shudders through me. His hand trembles from the effort.
It’s so good; I’m addicted. With an effort to untangle my legs, I spin around, presenting to the door but as low to the ground as I can get. “More,” I demand huskily. I’m an omega, and we crave knots. It’s built into my DNA.
Callisto pulls his hand out, my pussy spilling heat juice everywhere. Another needy whimper flows out of me.
“I know, sweetheart, I just need to change hands.” His alpha scent burns dark under the door.
“Are you hot for me?” I ask.
“Shit, you have to ask? So hot. You feel amazing, darling girl.”
Material rustles and the door jiggles, and then he’s back. Warm fingers stroke the curves of my ass and play through the cum on my legs. I lean into his touch, shivering in delight. I can move away any time I choose, but I don’t. I’m in control. I’m safe.
As if sensing my mood, Callisto presses his thumb inside my swollen pussy. I moan and lean back onto it, spreading my hands on the floor for balance.
His melodic voice hums through the door separating us. “That’s it, kitten. Use me. Show me what you can take.”
More fingers. Fragrant haze-ladened sweat runs between my hanging breasts, all mine. No one’s trying to take it.
“A little more, sweetheart,” Callisto croons as I rock onto his hand.
I’m so full, and every time he crooks his fingers, delicious lightning tingles through my core. And then he tugs out and closes his hand into a fist.
“This is as close to a knot as I can do from here,” he says, breaths gusting heavily under the door. “Tell me if you don’t like anything.”
I nod, forgetting he can’t see me. I’m in control.
He starts gentle, prodding at me hesitantly to see if I’ll pull away. My body forgets it’s not a real knot and I slick again at the consuming touch. Desperate, I writhe myself onto him as best I can.
“So hungry,” Callisto moans. “Doing so well. Get a good grip on the floor, sweetheart.”
The wood floor’s kinda slippery, but I can reach the edge of the rug with my hands.
Callisto’s fist meets my pussy more firmly, grinding a little. Fuck. After hours of burning in heat, I feel the first hint of relief. A strange purr flickers in my throat, catching like I’ve got a cold, but with none of the pain.
“Shit, Red!” he cries, grinding deeper. Who knew a broken omega like me could purr?
His heavy thrusts rock me with each strike. I writhe back each time with a snarl, hungry for more. The sensation mimics an alpha’s body slamming into my ass and thighs, and for a moment I forget that I’ve locked myself in a room. Just a little more of his scent and I’ll topple over the edge of oblivion.
“Touch yourself,” I whine.
Callisto whispers more swear words, asking me if I’m sure. I know when his other hand drops to his dick, because his alpha musk thickens and surrounds me. I pant, shaking all over. So close.
His fist burrows inside and suddenly I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t move. No doubt his whole fist wedges up my pussy, and it’s fucking amazing. I shatter, clenching around him like he’s my prize for this flame-filled marathon. And Callisto babbles as he comes too, the scent a delicious woodsy syrup to top my out-of-control lust.
I stay fixed in position for as long as my knees can hold me upright, and then I collapse, crawling onto my little makeshift bed, completely exhausted. Maybe, just maybe I can survive this thing trying to destroy me.
Callisto’s hand trembles with fatigue as he draws it back under the door. A barrier separates me from my alphas, and the broken omega O-11 holds all the keys.
Something tells me I’m going to need all my alphas to help me break free of her.