Chapter 8 Winnie
Winnie
I need to get my dog.
I realize that at this point Deputy has spent more time with Corbin than he’s ever spent with me but he’s still my dog even if I was at the bachelorette trip for three days, and then the hospital for two more.
Since the alphas are staying in town my symptoms slowly receded until I could be discharged.
Ugh. I love that puppy, even if he’s only been in my life for a handful of moments.
I bought him a zillion dog toys while I was on that disaster trip to Traverse City.
Plus dog clothes, treats, and a bed. My little cottage is basically exploding with puppy stuff, and without him, it’s just a harsh reminder of how things were before the bite.
Still, I sit in my car outside Corbin’s cabin on the edge of the forest, not moving. Getting Deputy means talking to Corbin. Which is something I’ve studiously avoided for the last forty-eight hours while I’ve been in the hospital, and something I’m not sure I’m ready for yet.
My omega whines within me. She doesn’t like or understand any of this.
In her opinion, we found our mates. One bit us.
She bit him back—something I’m still very cross with her about.
I usually listen to my omega psyche’s needs.
We’re usually in harmony. Just another change in this horrible week I can’t seem to reconcile.
And underneath it all, there’s the current of him.
Zeke. He’s a constant presence, his emotions washing through me like waves.
I should be able to close the doors on our bond, but that can take weeks or—shudder—months to master.
So he’s just there, and I know I’m there in his mind too.
I can feel the space I occupy now that he’s closer.
Like we’re connected by a daisy chain of thoughts.
The door to the cabin opens, and Corbin steps out, looking straight at me. His stance is wide and confident. He crosses his muscle-corded arms. He’s unfairly cut, and I have the insane urge to climb him like a tree. My omega scrambles inside me, but I shove her down hard.
He leans against the frame of his cabin, waiting.
I open the car door, smooth out the little flowered dress I’m wearing, and stride across the drive.
“I’m here for Deputy,” I say, keeping a good five feet between us and my voice as neutral as possible.
His eyes drop and close for a moment, as though he’s collecting himself.
“Deputy,” he calls over his shoulder through the open front door.
Mad scrambling follows. Like Deputy had just been waiting for permission to greet me.
He comes bounding down the entry hall and out the front door.
I kneel so he can rush into my arms. I’m surprised to find he doesn’t jump anymore, though he does lick my face with sloppy, wonderful kisses that make me laugh despite myself.
“Deputy,” Corbin lightly reprimands, and the dog sits.
Deputy looks up at me with big brown eyes. He’s grown—not a lot, but enough that it’s noticeable even after just a few days. He is fed and happy and very well trained. Seeing him reminds me of Corbin pulling me into his lap with Deputy and telling me it would all be okay.
Corbin’s cabin is at least three times bigger than mine, with a fenced backyard perfect for a big dog.
Which is exactly what Deputy’s going to be.
My cottage barely has enough space for me, and it doesn’t have a yard to speak of.
Just a dense forest where he could get lost. Though I’ve been looking up training guides online and watching videos, I’ve never actually trained or cared for a dog before.
Why on earth I ever thought I could raise one is beyond me.
“Maybe… you should keep Deputy.” My voice shakes, cracking despite my best effort to steady it. “He seems to be doing really well here.” Tears sting the corners of my eyes. “I think you were right when I came to the police station to meet him. I don’t think this is a good idea anymore.”
A single tear slips free, tracing a line down my face.
Then it hits me. Corbin’s scent, completely unfiltered. I’ve never experienced it without the interference of scent-neutralizers. It’s leather and cedar, and hits me right in my omega core. The scrambling inside me gets worse.
A high, desperate omega whine escapes my throat.
Corbin drops to his knees in front of me. I drag my gaze up from the pavement to his eyes. Desperate determination fills them.
“Miss—”
I give him a sharp look.
“Winnie,” he corrects softly. “Please come inside, Sweetheart. Please.”
So painfully slow, he reaches out—and I don’t pull away. Even though he’s rejected me this whole time, I’m drawn to him. I need him. His voice and touch. His entire being. But I’m so angry. He knew we were mates all along and never told me. Just left me in the dark to spin.
Corbin’s rough, calloused palm smooths along my cheek and around to the back of my neck. His thumb brushes back and forth over my pulse point.
“It’s okay,” I choke out, dropping my gaze to Deputy’s fur. Even though it’s so far from okay that okay may as well be on the moon. “You don’t want me as your mate. I understand.”
I’m not going to force this alpha to be with me just because we’re fated. I don’t want that. But the alternative, not bonding with all of my mates, feels impossible too.
“Winnie, look at me.” The bark is soft, but it’s still a command I couldn’t disobey even if I wanted to. I don’t. His expression is wrecked. His gaze is dark and intent on mine and his jaw is tight.
“I want you,” he says, voice rough and low. “There isn’t a single day since I met you that I haven’t wanted you. You’re all I fucking think about.”
More tears, humiliating and endless, join the first. Corbin’s hand half raises before he pulls it back.
I force the words out, “Then why—”
“Because I’m a broken old man,” he gruffs. “My past… it’s not pretty, Sweetheart. You deserve something better than me and my fractured pack.”
Everything in his expression says that he believes that. I don’t know what I believe yet, but I know my omega wants her mates.
“I decide what I deserve, Corbin.”
His eyes shut like the words actually hit him. When he nods, it’s small… almost pained.
“Please come in, Sweetheart,” he asks again. It's quiet and controlled, but with something shaking under it.
I nod and he helps me up and leads me into his cabin. Deputy pads along behind us. He opens the door and lets me step through first.
His cabin is a beautiful two-story home, built of logs on the outside and finished in polished hardwood within. The whole place smells like him. That warm leather scent seeps straight into my bones, and I can’t stop the sweet perfume that spills from me in response.
Corbin groans behind me.
I turn, startled, and find him white-knuckling the doorframe arch leading to his kitchen. His jaw flexes and his body is tense, like he’s barely holding himself back.
“Are—are you okay?” I ask.
His dark eyes lift to meet mine. He looks ragged, frayed at the edges, right on the line between restraint and unraveling.
He takes a long breath. “I’m fine, Sweetheart.”
But I’m not.
My heart is trying to punch its way out of my chest. My hands are shaking. The room feels hotter, thicker—charged. This couldn’t be a heat spike. Could it?
Still, I don’t say anything as I walk into his living room and sit on the couch.
It’s a large space with vaulted ceilings, but still homey.
It’s exactly the kind of place that fits him.
And I need to have a real conversation with Sheriff Corbin without hormones or our baser selves taking the wheel… yet.
Something suddenly occurs to me.
“What’s your first name? Calling you Sheriff Corbin seems a little silly since we’re…” I trail off, heat curling low in my stomach.
Corbin sits across from me, and the edge of his mouth quirks up. “Everyone calls me Corbin. But… it’s Gideon.” He grimaces. “I never liked it, and it never fit me. So everyone just uses my last name.”
I scrunch up my nose before I can stop myself, and he out-and-out laughs. The sound washes over me like a warm hand stroking down my spine. I didn’t know he could soothe me like that.
“Any other questions?” he asks.
“So now you’re an open book?” I ask, and regret it immediately. He’s trying.
But he doesn’t look angry or defensive. He’s just…remorseful.
He reaches across the small space—slowly, giving me time to pull back—and takes one of my hands in his. His thumb brushes once across my knuckles before he stills. His gaze holds mine with intent, steady and unflinching.
“I’m sorry for not telling you,” he says, voice low. “Not just because of what happened. But because you’re right. It was presumptuous. It was demeaning. You’re an adult, and you deserved to make the decision with all the facts. I shouldn’t have made that choice for both of us.”
My fingers tighten around his, instinctive. Needy. Some part of me terrified he’ll pull away.
I’ve fantasized about Corbin so much it’s embarrassing. To have him here, looking at me like this, saying these words… it’s too much and not enough all at once.
Something must flicker across my face, because he shifts closer on the couch until our thighs touch.
Heat arcs between us like a struck match. My breath catches, and his does too.
The tension snaps tight like a bowstring drawn to breaking.
My omega surges forward, clawing for control, and as much as I try to keep her in check, heat floods through me like wildfire.
Everything feels like it’s melting. My panties are soaked, slick pooling in my underwear, and I can’t help but squeeze my thighs together, desperate for friction—any friction.
Corbin sees the movement, and his face goes absolutely feral—pupils blown wide, teeth bared, breath heavy. A muscle ticks in his jaw. Then his hand is at the back of my neck, cupping the heat there, grounding me in a way that only makes it worse.
“Winnie, Sweetheart, can you hear me?” he rasps.
All I can do is let out a high, helpless, omega whine. His answering alpha growl is low and possessive, vibrating through my skin and straight into my pulsing, oversensitive core. I gasp, my perfume thick and cloying in the air.
“Winnie,” he says again, jaw tight, every inch of him trembling with restraint. But I don’t want his restraint. I want his hands and mouth and cock. I want him to take me until I break and beg and forget every reason I was mad.
“This doesn’t mean you forgive me. I know that. Know this is just your omega’s response to being near a scent-sensitive alpha. But can I help you? Is it okay if I ease you? Can you hear me, Sweetheart?”
His words echo through the haze, muffled by want. I feel like I’m drowning in heat. He asks again, more slowly this time, and it finally cuts through.
He needs permission. He’s trying to be careful.
“Yes, please, Corbin.” I barely manage. The words break from me in a breathy plea, soaked in desperation. I should be embarrassed, but all I can think about is how badly I need him taking me apart.
He crashes into me like a man starved, kissing me deep and open-mouthed, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. He eases me back onto the couch, laying me flat on my back, and my whole body arches for him.
My sundress rides up, bunching at my waist. A cramp tightens deep inside my belly, heat blooming so sharp I gasp. My pussy clenches around nothing, aching to be filled. I feel empty and swollen and wrecked already, and he hasn’t even touched me properly.
Corbin’s hands slide up my thighs with reverence and command, parting my legs. His eyes darken as they lock onto my soaked-through panties.
“Oh, Sweetheart…” he murmurs, voice gone to gravel. “You’re fucking dripping for me.”
He leans in, burying his face between my thighs.
His breath ghosts over the cloth and I jerk, hips twitching.
Then his hot mouth presses to my pussy through the fabric—one kiss, then another—until he’s tonguing my clit through my panties, licking me like he needs to memorize the shape of me with his mouth.
I gasp, already falling apart. I stare down my body, and his eyes meet mine.
Then his fingers hook into my waistband and he slides my panties down slowly, exposing my slick folds to the cool air. I should be nervous, but all I feel is the heat and the tension and the hunger.
He spreads me wide and groans like a dying man.
“You look like sin,” he growls. “Sweet, messy sin.”
And then he dives in.
His tongue flattens and drags from my dripping hole all the way up to my clit, before circling and sucking like he wants to taste every last drop of my slick. He fucks me with his tongue, deep and filthy, before replacing it with two thick fingers that stretch me wide, filling the ache.
He crooks them, hitting the spot that makes me keen, while his tongue and thumb alternate over my clit in slick, practiced strokes. I writhe against him, hips rocking shamelessly into his mouth.
My fingers tangle in his hair, tugging him closer, guiding him with touch since words are long gone. His other hand slips up under my dress and cups my ass, squeezing until I cry out.
“Corbin—oh my god—I’m close—”
“Good,” he growls into me, his voice wrecked and soaked with arousal. “Come for me. Show me how this perfect little pussy is going to take my knot next time.”
The filth in his voice shatters me. I break apart with a cry, clamping around his fingers as pleasure crashes over me like a goddamn tidal wave. He keeps working me through it, coaxing every last tremor with his mouth and hand and whispered praise.
When I finally collapse, boneless, he pulls back—panting, flushed, his mouth shiny with slick. He tucks my dress back down with surprising care… then pockets my ruined panties with a satisfied smirk.
I blink at him, dazed. “You’re keeping those?”
“Oh, Sweetheart,” he murmurs, pulling me into his lap and wrapping me up like I’m breakable. "You don’t get those back.”
He arranges me gently, tucking a blanket over us, cradling me against his chest like I’m something to be protected even after he’s devoured me.
“I’m still upset,” I murmur against his shirt. Heat spikes take it out of omegas.
He exhales, a low sound from deep in his chest.
“I know. And I’m going to spend every day proving you can trust me. I still think you deserve better than a worn-out old alpha like me. But if you’ll have me…” He presses a kiss to my temple. “I can’t stay away. I never could.”