Chapter 26
Imogen
Waking up in Red's arms is an actual dream come true. Waking up, lucid, not in heat, feeling his firm erection press against my ass while he's still asleep is even better. Turning over, I tuck my hands beneath my head, watching him scowl, even in his dreams.
Red's obsidian, straight black hair, cut in a way that's a little longer on the top, short on the sides, so it's constantly falling into his face, nearly obscuring his almost white-blue eyes make him look like he's some kind of changeling, from another place entirely. His lips are pouty, jawline angular, cutting up to his cheekbones, and, even in his torn, faded black jeans and t-shirt, anyone could mistake him for a model. He's so pretty to look at. And all mine.
He's all mine.
I brush a length of hair out of his face. Even though Red is one of the nicest people I've ever met, genuinely kind, even to complete strangers, he's always got this scowl on his face, like he expects the worst. So when he smiles… oh, it's a dream.
"You're staring," he grumbles, voice thick with sleep.
I giggle, whispering back, "I'm sorry. I can't help it." Then I squeak when he snakes his arm out, wraps it around my waist, and tugs me on top of him, his thick length between us, poking my belly.
He still hasn't opened his eyes, so I whisper, "Red. Red. Can I…" I trail a hand down the firm plane of his chest. Red's body is made to be ogled, and I do just that, massaging and stroking the outline of his abs. His stomach flexes beneath me, breath hitching when I grip his cock.
"Hmm?" He asks lazily, eyes still closed.
I've never been so bold outside of my heat in my life. Perhaps last night, when I demanded Dante Pack bite me soon, but this is different. I've been courted, sure, but never like this. I've never been in a relationship. Never woken on a lazy morning, climbed on top of my partner, needy with desire. It's so… domestic. Natural.
I've certainly never entertained the idea of doing this without sneaking off to the bathroom first to wash my body, brush my teeth, and fix my hair.
I stoke Red's cock, loving how firm and big it feels in my hand. The slit at the head leaks precum, his hips tensing, and though his eyes are still closed, he's smirking, feigning indifference. I grip him at his base, tickling his heavy sac, then screech when his powerful arms pull me forward, forcing me to let go.
So hard he has to push his cock down since it juts upward toward his abdomen, I lower down onto his length, both of us sighing in relief as he fills me. I think Red likes me on top. We're in this position a lot, and I love the control. Alphas always want to be in control, but Red just seems happy to be with me, and it makes my omega preen.
I've been so stressed for weeks, but last night was a turning point. Even now, I know we have a lot to face, but being here in the morning, just feeling him, knowing my other two mates are right around the corner, is so empowering.
I ride Red, one hand placed on his chest for balance, the other on his thigh behind me, and he lets me grind and chase every good feeling however I want.
"Fuck, baby, you feel so fucking good," he rasps. I lift my hips a little higher, slamming down, and he grunts in response. I do it again, marveling at how good he feels. I take a deep inhale, breathing in Red's scent. It's so unusual, diesel engine oil and leather, something I never thought I'd find attractive, but on him, it's electric. It's so lively and intense and masculine.
I want to try everything with this man. He makes me feel like I could do or be anything.
When I'm in heat, I'm adventurous, but never outside of it. Noticing I'm slowing, overthinking, completely attuned to me despite the lack of bond, Red's eyes shoot open in concern. "What's wrong?"
I bite my lip, nervous to ask. "Im, what is it? You can tell me. Anything. Do you need to stop?" He grips my hips, pausing my movements.
"No, I…" My cheeks flame, but I say, "Can I turn around? Can we try that position?"
He smirks, one corner of his lips lifting and I giggle, burying my face in his chest.
"Reverse cowgirl? Oh, Im, all you gotta do is ask. Come on now," he slaps my thigh. "Spin around like a top. Use all that strength to keep yourself on me, though, my cock is too warm and happy inside you."
I laugh but take the challenge, lifting one knee and spinning around. It's an awkward movement, but I pull it off until I'm seated, fully impaled, facing his feet, mine tucked beneath my legs, Red stretched out long in front of me.
"Whenever you're ready," he rasps, and I squeeze his length inside me in response. We both moan and, bracing both my hands on his thighs, rock my hips, grinding into him.
I nearly choke in pleasure, grunting, fucking him with wild abandon, lifting and slamming, working my hips and ass as hard as I do when dancing I'm on the pole.
"Jesus, this view," Red moans, squeezing my ass, slipping one finger between my cheeks. I'm moving too quickly for him to penetrate, but just the caress, up and down my ass, toward my pussy, has me clenching in response. A shiver of pleasure wracks my body.
"Fuck, baby, I'm gonna come, hang on, I gotta move," Red grunts, bringing himself up to a seat without moving his legs. He wraps his arms around my waist, slipping a finger over my clit, circling it, finding a rhythm while I fuck him. Chasing the electricity, it sparks, hitting all my sensitive parts, and I've lost all rhythmic beats, instead chasing the tune of pleasure, and it's messy and needy.
Red's arm braces around my torso, holding me in place so he can reach forward and grab my knee, opening me up. I fall to the side, one of my thighs wrapped around his side while he fucks into me, and I cry out. It feels so good, and Red roars, his hips thrusting, testing my flexibility in this position.
"Fuck!" he roars, then shoves my torso forward so I'm in a twisted pretzel shape in his lap, my face practically kissing his knee, one of my legs still pulled behind us while he grips my thigh like a handle, and his cock slams directly into my g-spot with every violent snap of his hips, and I scream out.
"Red, I can't, I can't, oh god, I'm coming!" I grunt and nearly blackout, my orgasm exploding in vibrating shocks, his hot come coating my walls, our bodies slippery and squeezing and aching. I keep coming while he fingers my clit, still snapping his hips into me.
Our pleasure subsides, and we're left in a sweaty, sticky mess, and I love it.
Splayed out on top of him, my back to his chest, Red lazily plays with my nipples. I giggle, making Red laugh in response.
"Don't tell me you thought any of that was funny."
"No, of course not! I'm just… at a loss for words at how wonderful this is."
Red sits up, bringing me with him. Gripping my chin, making me turn to look at him, he says seriously, "It is wonderful. Thank you, Imogen. For trusting me." He kisses the tip of my nose, then crawls out of bed, dragging me with him. We shower and I dress in my outfit from yesterday.
By the time we make it downstairs, we find Cass cooking breakfast. He kisses my temple, handing me a cup of coffee, and we sit down to eat.
"Where's Iggy?" I ask after a few minutes, when I realize he's not joining us.
"Sleeping. He's—did he tell you about his sleep patterns?"
I shake my head, and Cass nods. "He's got pretty bad insomnia. So when he crashes, he oversleeps. "
Red coughs under his breath, "Understatement," but Cass just shrugs, amused.
"So… he's oversleeping?"
"He didn't sleep much when you were… Well, not here. When things were unsettled." Technically, they still are, but I feel more solid with them than ever. "He's just catching up. You can wake him up any time, he's not dead to the world. Plus, I think with the hole in his bedroom wall, all that light will probably force him to wake earlier," Cass snorts.
"Oh my goodness, he broke the wall for the nest into his own bedroom? That's terrible!" I gasp.
Red rubs my shoulder. "Don't fret, angel, it's all good. We're just moving some walls around, making more space for you. We actually kept Iggy's bedroom, we're just moving it to the opposite side and making it a lot smaller, so the nest has a bathroom, which we'll all need. Don't worry about it, I promise, he's good."
"Yeah, Iggy won't hesitate to complain if shit doesn't go his way," Cass laughs, and Red joins in. I don't understand the inside joke, but I will say, Iggy is a strange mix of overemotional, prone to outbursts, yet hyper-focused and dominant, completely in control; it's unusual, but perhaps that's one of the ways he copes.
I save worry for the nest for later. In truth, with all my OFA training, it's ingrained in omegas to expect their alphas to build a nest, to provide. It's not that I didn't think Dante was capable of it, but, after everything, I suppose I worry about putting too much pressure on them to live up to the expectations I've grown to have.
Red tells Cass we'll be busy today since he's taking me on a date, which I'm so excited about. I'm embarrassed I'm still in yesterday's clothes, in a dress I'd worn to meet my mother, no less, but Red assures me it's not a problem.
Holding my hand, he leads me downstairs to his charming, beat-up old red truck, which looks like it belongs more as a movie prop than his primary transportation, but it makes it more fun to ride in. On our short drive to wherever we're headed, Red tells me he and Iggy, and even Cass, love to work on old cars, and it's one of the reasons they bought the warehouse.
He tells me they're always busy, trying to provide for their neighbors and their employees, and now, working with Ophelia, setting up the dominoes to bring down the mayor and Madam Fletcher, the director of the OFA, so he doesn't have as much time as he'd like to tinker.
Red spits Fletcher's name, and I refrain from sharing my own encounters with the woman. She seems nice on the outside. I don't think her intentions come from a nefarious place, but I do think she has a very specific worldview and refuses to grow or see reason. Not that I've ever argued with her; I would never.
Much like everyone else at the OFA, when I first arrived in town and attended some events—to introduce my presence, unveil my unbonded omega status, as she and my mother put it—Fletcher has poked and prodded at my body, complimented the quality of my obedience, on my downcast gaze and serene expression. She'd told my mother I was perfect. In fact, I believe that was the same event I'd met the Stevens Pack at.
We omegas never had a chance.
"Red, forgive me if this is out of line, but I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am for what happened to Alma. Ophelia has told me a lot about her, and I feel like she and I would have been great friends. Years too late, I'm afraid, but I am sorry for your loss." The OFA has done so much harm, and not just to omegas.
Red squeezes my hand before letting go and grabbing the clutch between us, turning the steering wheel to parallel park the truck. After turning off the engine, he turns to me, blinding me with his smile. He's too pretty for his own good, I swear I'd let him get away with anything.
"Thank you, Imogen. Alma was good people. What happened to her wasn't right. We'd never have lasted as a couple, it was high school stuff, friends more than anything, but it doesn't change how I felt when she died. It was hard. But I have my pack, Phe, now you…"
He sighs, the rattle of the truck engine finally quieting, the engine scent making Red's even stronger. Staring out the window, he says, "Death is hard on the living. When we lose people, we try to make sense of it, rationalize it. Search for the cause, the root, the reason. Anything to get our minds out of just experiencing the grief, feeling the loss. We do anything not to feel the pain. I'm sad she's gone, their parents, too. I've spent the last eleven years, me and Phe, feeling that hole get a little bit smaller, but if it ever goes away entirely, it'll leave a scar. The good news is, the smaller the pain gets, the more I actually can focus on the reason she died. Maybe we can't change the way omegas are treated worldwide. But I have to believe we can do some good, even just here, in Arrow Cove."
"And maybe that good will spread," I nod encouragingly. "I believe that. Completely."
Red winks then climbs out of the truck. I open the door, but he's already there, holding my hand, helping me down. In my heels, I'm nearly able to meet Red's eyes. So light, the antithesis of Iggy's, really, where Iggy's eyes feel like they hold mountains of secrets, Red's feel open, taking everything in. Lost in the haunting icy color, I lift on my tiptoes and give him a kiss.
I pull away first and follow Red in hand a few stores down. We reach a non-descript shop, and Red bangs on the glass door. A minute later, there's a loud grumble, "Wait a minute, wait a minute!" It sounds like quite the labored process, several locks unclicking, the door rattling, when finally, a beta woman opens the door.
"You're early," she grumbles, then steps back inside, letting the door fall closed behind her. Nervous, I look to Red, who doesn't look offended; he just holds the door open for me, and so I step inside, immediately at ease by the soft lavender scent of the store.
The walls are lined with various costumes, and in one corner, wigs of all kinds. Some appear for everyday wear, others more elaborate or decorated. "Betty's a seamstress. This is her shop," Red explains, leading the way to the back of the empty store, obviously still closed.
"It's a costume shop?"
"Yeah. But she also does repairs, makes custom pieces… she's a jack of all trades. Does a lot for us at Queenie's."
I nod like I'm supposed to know what that means. We find Betty, who we've clearly woken up for the day, at the back of the store, inside another room that looks like her workshop. It's overwhelming the number of fabrics and lace lining the walls, hanging off mannequins and racks.
"Alright, your requested pieces are here." Betty points to a clothing rack with a handful of black bags zipped up, hiding the material within. "Along with the order from Judy's shop, here," she points to a small velvet chest sitting on the table.
Red's grinning. I don't know what makes him so happy, but seeing him smile so big makes me happy. Betty harrumphs and turns on her heels, escaping out another door at the back of the room. I hear her footsteps stomp up a staircase.
Red's still grinning.
"Who's Judy?"
"Huh? Oh, uh… she… she's got a shop a few blocks from here."
"What does she sell?"
"You'll see." Red walks over to the clothing rack, a metal frame on wheels, and drags it in front of the large empty table, save for the chest, in front of us.
"I put in a custom order with her, after last week. She works crazy fast, I didn't expect them to be done so soon. But this is part of your gift. Your courting gift. Did I do that right?" Red looks insecure, and it's so out of place.
"You got me a courting gift?"
He clears his throat, then laughs. "Yeah. I mean. I don't know if you'll like it. Maybe it was presumptuous. I don't know. But I thought you'd like it and… anyway, I asked Betty for some specific things, and I went to Judy's place to find matching pieces."
He looks at me awkwardly for another minute, running his fingers through his hair, the inky black strands falling loose around his eyes, before turning to the rack. Anticipation and excitement have me preening. I don't know what's under the zippered black bags. I don't even care. He had something made just for me! It's not a gift card or a generic piece of jewelry he's already seen me wear, so he doesn't have to think of anything original like Stevens did.
It's custom. And thoughtful.
And oh my goodness… beautiful. I gasp when layers of bright white and ivory feathers escape from their cage, Red unzipping the black cover all the way, revealing the most beautiful set of wings. They're shaped differently than the black ones I wear on stage. These wings have a more over-the-shoulder design, resembling armor, if armor were made with shimmering soft feathers. I caress the material, running my fingers through the layers.
"I thought you might like a choice, to try something new. Or maybe just to have for home. You seem so confident on stage when you're wearing them. It's not that you have to; I mean, you can wear whatever you want up there. But if you wanted to dance, even just for yourself. You know you can, right? You can go to the club any morning before we open, if you want to keep dancing, but just for you."
I can't help but giggle. "Red, are you implying you'd rather I not be naked in front of others?"
Red winces. "No… I mean, I want you to do what makes you happy. And when you're on stage, you seem happy. This was just… giving you variety."
"More choice," I confirm.
"More choice." He pulls the back off, showing me how the straps are different. I'm already getting ideas. When Iggy pulled me into the back room a few days ago, I was still wearing the black wings. And I love them, but they are quite large. These are a bit smaller. Maybe I could have another set made in black and one in gold. I could wear matching heels, and I have a feeling these are small enough that I could still ride my alphas in them. I think they would like that very much.
Before I produce slick, thinking of all the wicked ways I can torment my alphas, loving what wild turns my life has taken, Red goes through the other items. One is a teddy, a full-body piece of lingerie with lace, and an open chest cut down to the navel. Another, a beautiful bustier, like the ones Roxy wears, minus the glittering sequins. It's more lace and fine feathers, with subtle details.
I touch every piece of material, admiring every single item. I love them. I love them. There's a mask hanging with one of the pieces, more like a cat mask than my feathered black angel one. And a dress, less see-through, but with cutouts along the side, and the shape of it is devastatingly sexy. I can't believe Betty made all this in such a short time. She'd be in non-stop demand if the omegas of High Hills knew about her.
Red leans against the table while I study each piece in silent awe. I don't even know what to say. When I turn toward him to thank him, he smiles, but it's less enthusiastic than it was when we got here.
"I love these, Red," I assure him.
"I'm glad. I just… I want you to know. These aren't stage costumes, or for you to wear for us at home, not unless that's what you want. These aren't for anyone but you. I know you like fine things. I just wanted to give you something… fine…"
"They certainly are fine. And maybe you'll never see these again, and I'll just dress up and wear them when I want to feel sexy. Or maybe I'll surprise you when you least expect it," I whisper against his mouth, clutching his shirt.
He groans, but I let go and clasp my hands together tightly. "What's in the box?"
He laughs. "Okay, maybe this one was a little more selfish. Kind of." He nudges the box closer to me, and I admire the fine, soft velvet casing before unlatching and opening it up. I gasp.
It's a treasure trove.
"Is that?"
He chuckles, fingering the toy I'm pointing at. "A butt plug, but look at this cute little fluffy bunny tail," he fingers the floof of cotton like it's adorable. Admittedly, it is. "It's interchangeable. There's this rad fox tail that's really long, but I wasn't sure if you'd be into that, and I didn't want to freak you out."
Laughing, I say, "So Judy owns…"
"A sex toy shop. Yeah." Now, his enthusiastic grin is back.
I roll my eyes and go back to the treasures, finding toys all for an omega's pleasure. Of course, I have many already, but these seem more… involved. Some are more straightforward, like a vibrating knot ring and a feather tickler.
I pick up a chain link with a button on the end, but Red says, "Oh, that one's from Iggy. Nipple clamps," he winks, and I immediately squeak and drop them back in. "And the mask is from him, too." Different from the blindfold he used on me before, this one appears to block sight and sound.
These guys are wholly unapologetic. A month ago, I would have been so embarrassed to have this conversation in a public store, even with my alpha.
"These are from Cass." Red holds up a pair of panties with a thick center. Reaching out, feeling the silicone shape, suddenly they vibrate to life in my hands. I look up and find Red with a tiny remote in hand and a mischievous smile.
There's a harness, some crotchless panties, and a few other items, but there's one thing I've been avoiding picking up because I'm embarrassed to admit, I have no clue what it does. It's got a long, flat silicone string with a thick bulbous tip, like an antenna, on one end. On the other end, there's a strap, like a harness, that looks like it's to fit around a waist, and another small piece of silicone with a hole in it.
Red picks it up, cocking his head slightly. "This one's from me. Not custom, but I did special order it."
"What… uhm, what does it do?"
Red smiles down at me, placing the toy back in the velvet chest, then cradles my face in his hands. "Hopefully, it will give you several coma-inducing orgasms. Not that we can't get there on our own, but what kind of alpha would I be if I didn't reach for the stars, hmm?"
My perfume, steadily filling the room since I first opened the chest, blooms, and I'm so wet and slick between my legs I can barely think straight. I want to know what that toy does. I want to play with it now. My omega whimpers, but Red just kisses me, then closes the chest.
He gathers up all the items, leading the way back out to his truck. Keeping them locked inside, we walk to another shop a few doors down, and I'm surprised to find us at a gym.
"We don't have a gym at the warehouse. This place is so close to home, it's where we go… I know, from the other dancers, they like to have room to do weight lifting or whatever. I thought we could look at some of the classes they have, too, see if you're interested in any."
Anyone else might bristle that their alpha brought them to the gym on their date, but I'm not. Red listened when I asked him during one of our lazy breaks in the middle of the night, between all the sex, where they work out. At home—my mother's home, no longer mine—I had plenty of space in my bedroom to exercise, and my fathers had a mini gym close to the garage. Though they never used it, preferring to pay for a very expensive membership at a local club where all the alphas in High Hills go.
He buys me a pair of leggings and a t-shirt with the gym logo on it, and we change out of our clothes and spend the next hour teasing each other, Red trying to show off how much he can bench press, me just managing to get through watching him without going into heat.
When we're done, I feel light. And so free. We eat together at a tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurant where everyone knows Red's name, and I don't feel out of place when complete strangers greet me, talking Red and his pack up, telling stories of all the ways they got into trouble as kids, or how they helped them or their parents or their next-door neighbor. One thing becomes glaringly obvious if it hadn't been before: Red and his pack are beloved in this neighborhood.
We get takeout for Iggy and Cass, bringing it home to the guys, and I surreptitiously ignore the velvet chest, because I'm a little worried about how badly I want to tear into it.
Reluctantly, and though the guys want me to stay over, I need to get to my parent's home if I'm going to keep up this farce. I need to get home to talk to my mother, to somehow convince her I'm back on board with Stevens. That I want them to throw a ball in honor of our engagement. It's the only way Ophelia and I can sneak into their home office and try to find some evidence against them.
I can only do that by pretending I'm engaged to Stevens. As much as it sucks, as much as it hurts to be away from Dante, I think of Ophelia and her sister Alma… and every other omega in this town, hell, this world, that's been taken advantage of by men in power.
Like every time before, the drive away from South Loop is difficult, and the taste of luxury my parent's estate provides is bitter and acrid and all wrong.