Chapter Thirty-Three
Gy
My girl is stunning. Simply gorgeous. Sitting across from her at the table, I can’t help but appreciate how lucky I am to be here with the sweet little omega.
Just listening to her talk about her day makes my Alpha hum with contentment.
“And then Cindy came by the shelter and adopted Mule. Cujo, do you remember him?” she gushes between bites of burger, and I’m happy to have this completely normal moment together. Since we’ve met, it’s been one thing after the other. We haven’t had much time to enjoy each other’s company.
“I do! Fen’s gonna be sad. I think he was hoping to adopt that dog.” Cujo jokes.
“We both know the only thing he wants to adopt is his dick into Alicia. Mule’s much better off with Cindy,” Willow snarks, and I nearly spew beer from my nose, unused to hearing her speak like that.
Cujo lets loose a roaring laugh, so at ease that I barely recognize him.
Even though his eyes continue to assess the room for danger, it’s more relaxed and less murdery than usual.
It helps that several of our brothers are drinking at the bar tonight, but there’s a sense of calmness amid the growing storm.
Pour Decisions was the right call. Good food, good drinks, and a perfect atmosphere.
“Though, did you hear about the fire at Grind and Growl? Electrical or something… Cindy said no one was there, thank goodness.” She throws an overly ketchup-covered fry into her mouth, and my cock twitches. Jeez, slow down.
“Yeah. Terrible. Hopefully, they can get it back up and running.” My mind’s already moved to other things. Sliding closer, my hand finds her thigh, and she smiles at the blatant move, her eyelashes fluttering.
I’m about to lean down and claim those lips when the music changes.
A simple melody rings out. Beautiful, classic, and a bit of a surprise, considering the location.
The second it hits the airwaves, Willow’s body language shifts.
She stiffens, scanning the room like she’s expecting someone, only stopping when she spots the lone figure standing at the microphone.
A strange look twists her features, then the spotlight hits, revealing a tall, red-haired woman. The lyrics caterwaul out of her throat, painful and ear-shattering. Willow bites her lip, a wave of distaste rolling down her body.
“That song special to you?” I ask, curious. It sounds familiar, but I’m not able to place it. She hesitates for a moment before nodding.
“Yeah, it’s one of my sister’s. I played the piano in the background.
” Even knowing what we do about her, it’s still a shock to realize my girl isn’t just Willow.
She’s Wilhelmina Banyan—musical prodigy and gold-record artist. A winner of countless accolades and awards for her music, yet the omega before me is more interested in dogs than melodies.
The moment sits heavy in the air, her honeysuckle scent souring ever so slightly. I don’t know what to say, but fortunately, Cujo does.
“Want me to kill this bitch for butchering your music?” At that, the sadness surrounding my girl breaks, and Willow releases a tinkling laugh.
He’s absolutely not joking, but his offer is enough to amuse her.
Honestly, between the two of us, killing someone just to see her smile is a price we’re willing to pay.
“Murder’s not necessary. Do either of you dance?” she asks sweetly, and even though I have two left feet, I’ll do anything to make her happy.
“Finish your burger, and then we’ll take you to the dance floor.” Our omega needs to eat more, but then nothing would make me happier than pressing our bodies together. Willow doesn’t do the best job looking after herself. As her Alpha, it’s my top priority.
“Gosh, you’re being pushy.” She pouts adorably, but does as she’s told, devouring a big bite.
“Just taking care of what’s mine.” Her eyes narrow.
“Ours,” Cujo cuts in with a snarl.
“I’m not your property,” she snarks, bratting in a way that makes me want to spank her little bottom until it turns red. Would she be into that?
“Eat your food and don’t pout,” Cujo reminds her, reaching forward to tap her jutting lower lip.
“But I’m full. And I want to dance.” Not one to listen, Willow slips out of her seat, looking mouthwatering in a mini skirt that’s showing off a glimpse of her thigh.
Fuck, am I drooling? The little minx steps away from the table in her fuck-me boots, then spins back to face us.
“I’m going out there. And if you come with me like good boys, later I’ll treat you to dessert.
” Her sexy smirk and wriggling hips have me on my feet, following her siren song straight to the dance floor.
Cujo growls, but this battle’s already been lost. Willow has us twisted around her pinky, but neither of us has any desire to be free. She needs her pack, and we need her.
When she peers over her shoulder and sees us coming, a smile erupts, and her eyes sparkle with mischief.
“Gonna dance with me, Lincoln?”
“Always,” I promise. She takes my hand, and we make our way out into the sea of bodies. Thankfully, karaoke is over, and something with a beat is playing now. The dance floor is filling up, and I pull her in close as she closes her eyes and loses herself to the rhythm.
She’s so small, yet we fit together like we were always meant to be.
Her sweet honeysuckle surrounds me, making me want to eat her up, to lick the nectar from her skin.
We’re surrounded by people, but nothing matters more than the sweet girl in my arms. Cujo makes his way over, coming up behind her and plastering himself to her back.
She moans slightly as we all sway simultaneously. A perfect Willow sandwich.
The song changes, but we remain. Every minute bringing us closer.
She’s gorgeous, and my teeth ache to bite her, bond her.
My eyes meet Cujo’s over our omega’s head, and the heat reflects back from him.
Our scents mingle, hotter and deeper, with each undulation of the rhythm.
Willow moans, her little tongue darting out to wet her rosy lips.
Her body wiggles between us, hips rocking, seeking friction. She tosses her head back, and I can’t help but attack, licking and sucking at the fresh, tender skin below her ear. She moans loudly.
Noticing her growing need, Cujo attacks the other side with a vengeance.
His hands come to her hips, and he slowly allows them to drift up her belly toward her breasts.
She thrusts them out, pressing them against me, the hard diamonds of her nipples piercing through her silky shirt.
It’s too much and not enough. We need to get out of here—and into the nearest bed.
“Come home with us tonight,” Cujo demands. And her body stills.
Fuck, have we messed this up already?