Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Rhett
The spray pounds against the back of my neck, hot enough to sting. I need the scalding distraction to keep me grounded because out there, kneeling in pain beside my bed, is an omega in heat.
And not just any omega, someone important. Her scent saturates the air, seeping into my lungs until I feel drunk on it. It’s maddening, creating a feral compulsion to tear the door off its hinges to get to her.
I brace my hands against the tiled wall and bow my head under the spray, dragging in air, wishing I could wash her scent off of me—no chance when it clings and burrows deep.
Lucian’s voice plays in my mind. “She’s yours. Don’t let her out of your suite.”
Mine.
I shouldn’t like the sound of that as much as I do.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to focus on the faces of the betas I was fucking fifteen minutes ago. But they’re already gone. Erased from my memory. Even their scent has been drowned beneath hers.
No doubt about it, my mind is broken because I would swear I have scented her before… She’s not even pretty, not like the models who were in my bed.
Not pretty? Where the fuck did that idea come from?
It’s the pressure of this unexpected challenge, that's the only explanation for putting the betas above her because simply put, she is stunning… and that voice, pure honey, all soft and sexy with a little bit of bite when she was pissed at me.
I’ve never been with an omega and it’s fucking me up. They are just a fantasy. Thanks to my business mogul brother, betas have always been plentiful and available. What do I know about omegas?
What do I know about rutting one through her heat?
Absolutely nothing. All I have is this instinct that tells me it’s coming on too fast.
I should throw on my clothes, call Lucian, and hand her over to someone else before this gets any worse. But I don’t move to do that. Nor will I. It’s already too late. If any other fucker comes in here and tries to take her from me, I will lose my shit.
The moment I saw those sad eyes that looked like they’d seen too much, I was done.
I lean up, drag a hand down my face. I need to get it together. Alphas deal with omegas all the time; it’s natural. Or it should be.
A shameful memory inserts itself into my mind of the day Lucian’s mate was taken.
Caught in the grip of my agoraphobia, I took too fucking long to stop her leaving.
By the time I’d gotten the nerve enough to take the few measly steps out into the underground parking garage, they’d gotten her.
Four of the bastards. They’d beaten me down and left me bleeding, and then she was gone.
Lucian got her back. I love his mate, Madelyn, like the sister I never had. But the guilt still racks me. If only I hadn’t been such a loser, I could have stopped her, and in doing so, prevented them from taking her.
By rights, my brother should despise me for failing to protect his mate.
But I see the side of him that most others don’t, the protective older brother that loves fiercely.
Who took care of me after the government decided they needed more alphas for the war and released the virus over the skies of our backwater planet.
It didn’t distribute evenly. Some people got higher doses than others.
Lucian has always blamed the government for what happened to me. But I think the virus simply revealed what was inside me, like it always does. Sure, I was an alpha, but one with faulty wiring in my DNA.
The omega kneeling in my bedroom, hurting, is a stranger. I’m a fuck-up in every way. Whoever she is, she deserves better than me. I won’t bite her; wouldn’t, even without Lucian’s warning.
But since she’s trapped here with me, in heat, I’ll do whatever I can to help her.
The water shuts off with a snap, and I stand there dripping, chest heaving, before I drag a towel over my hair, shoulders, and chest, removing the worst of the water from my skin.
Her scent cuts through the steam and the smell of soap.
Familiar. My dick is already heavy, aching, as my rut rises closer to the surface.
I see her in my mind’s eye, where I left her, the pile of nesting material beside her in a heap. Fragile. Desperate. Slick-scent permeates the room.
I’ve heard it tastes fucking amazing and hits you with a better high than any drug.
Fuck.
I grip the doorframe, knuckles white, forcing myself to stand still, to not open the door yet. Not until I’ve got my shit under control.
Plain? Where does that thought come from? Again? It’s in my mind, but it doesn’t sit right, almost like the word is being thrust upon me, planted there, if such a thing were possible.
True, she is not polished like the two women I just kicked out of my bed. The omega’s beauty is deeper, inside.
Wounded…
My brows pull together as that realization hits me up the side of the head, and the rampant hormones riding me come down a notch.
I’m not qualified for this task. And I’m not fucking worthy. Not me, a broken alpha who can’t even leave his fucking home without a crippling panic attack. Someone should have put me the fuck down long ago.
Get a grip, asshole.
I snatch open the door. She’s there, exactly where I left her, only now she’s naked.
Goddamned it.
She lifts her head, and her gray eyes lock on me.
She flinches like she’s reading this chaos riding me.
No, I realize that her expression is clouded with her heat, and maybe that just saves me from her pity.
Better we get through this, and she moves on, never knowing about the kind of man she was forced to share intimacy with, because let’s face it, I’m all she has got.
Larissa
My body quivers, every nerve ending screaming at me to crawl to him and beg.
I dig my fingers into the carpet until my nails ache. Focus. Don’t move. You’ve humiliated yourself enough.
Steam rolls out around Rhett as he stands in the doorway to the bathroom, bare-chested, a towel wrapped around his hips, and his skin flushed from the heat of the shower. His scent is now clean and all him.
My vision tunnels.
He doesn’t speak, just watches me. His throat works before he clears it awkwardly. “You want to get on the bed? Want to nest?”
Bed? Nest? I am caught, immobilized.
He sighs and crosses the room to crouch beside me. “Look at me.”
I do.
His eyes are on my face, not my body, but then they slide over my shoulders and sweep down, and his brows pull together. His jaw tightens. “Who the fuck did this?”
I shake my head. “They’re old.”
A tic begins thumping in his jaw. “That wasn’t an answer, baby.”
Baby. When has anyone ever offered me a term of endearment? A long time ago, maybe. Maybe never.
“I’m still waiting.”
His voice is firm yet gentle. How does he manage to be both things?
“People I’d rather not talk about.”
I’m naked. Why did I undress? That’s right, I’m in heat and I couldn’t stand my clothes.
Do not present!
“I’m going to take care of you,” he says. “Not because you’re in heat. Not because Lucian dumped you here. But because I want to. And if you want that, too.”
I’m too far gone to read his mind. All I have to go on is the earnestness in his eyes and an unexpected sense of nobility in his actions.
He hasn’t fallen upon me like a savage. I can smell his arousal—it’s driving me crazy.
But he’s also in control of himself, and that centers me when I’m so utterly lost.
His eyes slide to the pile of clothes I’ve left on the floor.
“You weren’t dressed like you were in my brother’s nightclub, nor like the staff who work there,” he says slowly.
“And my brother’s not exactly the kind of man people just bring omegas to.
He said you were important, and you agreed with him when I asked you. Very, you said.”
His eyes are on me, his jaw tightening as they linger on the scars.
Tear spring at the back of my eyes. I’ve no idea why.
“Hey.” He cups my chin. “I’ll help you as best as I can.
I know you’re not thinking straight. But maybe, we can start with exchanging names before…
” His smile turns rueful, and he gestures at the pile of nesting material.
“You know… before… I’ll go first. I’m Rhett Banner.
” He grimaces. “My mother was into recreational drugs. My brother always jokes that she had a bad hit when it came to naming me.”
I choke out a laugh. My body is on fire and weeping slick—sweat is trickling down my back—but somehow his words, his easy humor, quiet the franticness gripping me.
“Larissa,” I say. “My name is Larissa Olsen.”
The moment the words leave my lips, I recognize my mistake.