Chapter Sixty-Five
Gy
“Fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.” My heart pounds in my throat as Willow’s eyes roll back and she convulses in Cujo’s arms. “We’re too late.”
Never having seen an omega through a heat, I don’t know what to expect, but fever seizures certainly weren’t on my radar. Omegas are fragile creatures, especially leading up to their heat—and ours has been through more than most.
“Her skin is so hot, it’s burning my fingers,” Cujo says through gritted teeth. “What do we do?”
Time slows, but my heart speeds up.
The absolute terror on his face mirrors my feelings, and my mind goes blank, jaw hanging open. In school, we learned about omega biology, but that was ages ago. “We need to cool her down. Knots, cum, and all the Alpha pheromones we can muster. Right?”
My desperation crackles my voice, and Cujo turns on his heel, striding through the very small safe house. Assuming he’s taking her to her bedroom, I follow right behind. We don’t know the layout, but this place is so fucking tiny, it shouldn’t be difficult to find.
Quickly, we come upon two doors, one saturated with our omega’s sweet honeysuckle, and he uses his booted foot to kick it open.
“Let’s get her clothes off.” Willow’s body is still rigid, but she’s no longer convulsing.
Panic flares in my chest. Please don’t let us be too late.
Setting to work, my hands tremble as I unwrap her like the gift she is, willing her to open her eyes with every breath.
“Purr. Fucking purr like her life depends on it,” I demand, trying to push past the fear searing my veins to allow my soothing rumble loose. Cujo’s comes in loud and strong, and slowly Willow’s muscles unlock. Her eyes flutter, letting the silver that controls my life peek out.
She’s coming back. Purring louder, I peel her pants and panties off with one fell swoop. I’m slammed in the face by her delectable scent. And it calls to me like a siren.
My vision tunnels to the juncture of her thighs, and suddenly I’m there—fully clothed, backpack still attached—but her flavor bursts on my tongue as I attack her clit.
“That’s it, honeybee. Suck my cock like a good girl.
Let me give you what you need.” Cujo’s voice has my eyes snapping toward her face.
Fully dressed, my packmate has released his shiny dick, and Willow has her lips wrapped weakly around it.
Anger sears through me at how badly her heat has been managed.
There’s going to be hell to pay, but first, orgasms. As many as she can take until her fever comes down.
Getting back to work, I suck her clit faster, finding a rhythm that makes her hips dance.
Using my arm, I band it over her belly to keep her still and continue my feast. Sweet honey and vanilla trickles down my chin as she gushes.
Her body thrashes wildly, and I use my other hand to slide two fingers deep inside her.
The heat surrounding them is nearly unbearable, and Willow’s pussy flutters.
“Come, omega.” Crooking my fingers, I rub them against that soft spot deep inside her unrelentingly. Pounding it over and over again until she comes with a cry. I drink down every drop and press her for more. She pants, her gorgeous breasts bouncing as I push her to the precipice once more.
My cock is so hard, it’s painful, knot expanding uncomfortably in the confines of my jeans. But none of that matters. The only thing that exists is my mate and her perfect pussy.
“Come again,” I growl against her oversensitive clit. Cujo grunts, and I look up just in time to watch our omega drink every drop. “You’re being so good for your Alphas.”
Playing with her juices, I make sure my fingers are slick, then bring them to her puckered hole, rubbing them around the rim until she undulates with need.
“Dirty girl. Do you want both of us to stuff you full?” Inching my fingertip inside, I tease the tight opening, loving the way she moans with desire.
“Alpha!” she screams, needing more. I slowly push in, giving her a little more with each gentle thrust until she relaxes. My teeth scrape against her sensitive nerve bundle, and the delicious torture sends her over the edge. Her belly tightens, and her perfume saturates the air.
Sweat breaks out along her skin, and it’s just the sign I’ve been waiting for. Though her heat hasn’t broken—not by a long shot—it drops her raging temperature by a few degrees.
I lap at her core until my baby girl goes boneless.
“I think she’s doing better,” Cujo whispers, and I glance up at her blissed-out face.
Willow’s not quite asleep, but there’s a calmness to her that settles my Alpha instincts.
The world roars back in, and I’m suddenly aware of the backpack straps digging into my shoulders and all the miserable, dirty clothing I’ve brought into the saddest excuse for a nest I’ve ever seen. But it’s hers, so it’s perfect.
Leaning back, I slowly get off the bed.
“Lincoln. Noooo.” My omega’s whine makes me stop in my tracks. “Don’t go.” Her eyes are clearer, but heat simmers just below the surface.
“Baby, you couldn’t get me to leave with a shotgun aimed at my head.
We brought you something.” She sits up, all her smooth skin on display, and my mouth waters.
Shrugging out of my backpack, I place it on the bed and quickly undo the zipper, allowing a bit of blue to peek out.
At the sight, Willow squeals and crawls forward.
Holy fucking hell. Every inch of her is perfection, but now her complete focus is on the contents of my bag.
“You brought me nesting supplies.” Her voice cracks, and tears spring to her eyes.
The pulse in my throat pounds, hoping we didn’t make a mistake.
While I would love to take my girl home for her heat, traveling with her in this condition just isn’t safe or rational.
And with Beatdown and Pack Mordred still out there…
We can’t let them catch us with our pants around our ankles.
“I love them.” Willow yanks out all the pieces, then turns toward Cujo, who grabs his own pack and does the same. As soon as she has every piece out and inspected, she sifts them into piles.
“I want your clothes, too,” she commands with the most adorable growl, getting lost in her nesting instincts. Not wanting to upset her, I quickly remove every scrap of clothing, handing one to her each time her little hand snaps toward me.
“Honeybee, sweetness, all I have left are my socks,” Cujo says with a laugh as she flings an outstretched hand at him. “You don’t want those.”
She bares her teeth at him, and I snatch mine off the floor. She takes them all with a happy hum, and layers them in. Once it’s complete, she rocks back on her knees, then turns her countenance to me.
“Good. Now Alpha knot. Alpha bite.” My mouth goes dry. Her eyes are glazed over, heat taking her once more.
“Omega. You’re barely lucid. We shouldn’t.”
The last thing I want is for her to regret our bond.