Eighteen #3
Clement’s phone starts buzzing, and he pulls it out, face immediately souring as he answers. “I’ve got her, fuckface. You’re dismissed for the night.”
He hangs up and shoves his phone back into his pocket, not even bothering to let Moon explain himself.
On the one hand I feel a little bad for turning this pack against each other, but then I remind myself that Moon is doing that to himself and all I’ve ever asked for was kindness and respect. Fuck him.
Moon calls again, but it becomes a nonissue when Clement tilts his head to the side and studies me sitting on Jos, silencing his phone and tossing it to the side.
He runs his hands up my legs, using the split in the dress to his advantage.
“You feeling better, Omega? You know we don't like it when other alphas touch what's ours.”
I can't help leaning forward, letting my fantasies run wild in this small space that's starting to smell like the perfect blend of all three of us. “You think I'm yours, do you? Tell me, Alpha, what does that mean to you?”
Jos stiffens underneath me, his chest letting out a satisfied purr.
“I know your introduction to this pack was nowhere near how it should have been handled, but I hope in your short tenure with us, you're beginning to feel like we are your home. That’s what being ours means. It means that whatever bullshit is happening out there,” and he waves a hand in the general direction of the crowds somewhere beyond us, “is only a temporary distraction to what we can have when we're alone.
Being the tortured artist that I am, I've never had a happy, stable home life.
I was wary at first when we met you only because I've been promised good things so many times and it always falls flat. But you're the real deal.”
Unsure what to do with the swell of affection that blooms within me, I do something rare for me, and I stay silent while I evaluate his words. Is this really something I could have? Something we could have?
He makes eye contact with Jos over my shoulder, communicating something only the two of them are in on.
When Clement’s eyes fall back to me, he's definitely decided something.
“I'm sorry that Moon’s struggles with the changing dynamics are affecting you.
His behaviors don't represent how the pack views you in any way. You know that, right?”
Once again running on pure instinct, I slide out of Jos’s lap and right onto Clement’s.
He's looking at me like I'm some mythological creature he's been studying his whole life and just discovered was real. He’s shown me affection here and there ever since that night out at the restaurant where he gave himself permission to behave like an alpha courting an omega, but I've never initiated anything; not like I'm doing now.
I needed to be sure, needed to know I was safe with him first.
No artifice between us, I cup his face carefully, studying the steady blue of his eyes. His arms wrap around my lower back, once again making me feel safe, and I can't go another second without knowing what it's like to kiss him.
I think there's this misconceived notion that alphas are all hard lines and tough exteriors and brash attitudes.
Everybody that knows anything about vampires and the designations we fall into knows that when an alpha finds an omega they want, nothing can interrupt that chase.
They're tenacious, sometimes to the point of being bullheaded, but what I'm discovering as I try and get glimpses beneath the surface of this alpha that's now holding me, is that alphas might be just as starved for the sweet physical touches omegas are more known for.
I go in easy at first, giving us both time to adjust. I use my tongue to trace the shape of his lips, the sharpness of his fangs, the texture of his tongue. Deeper purrs than I was feeling from him erupt tenfold, almost startling in their intensity.
Once he's decided I'm sure in my movements and in what I'm asking, he stops holding back. He starts teaching me exactly how he wants to be kissed, and it feels a hell of a lot more like a claiming than a kiss.
“You have no idea how much I needed that,” he whispers for me.
I nod, a little too dazed to use words properly.
“Now I'm going to need you to do me a favor and give that same treatment to my packmate behind you. Think you can handle that?”
I twist my head almost too quickly to take in Jos, who’s looking me over and preparing himself to be turned down.
One little crook of my finger though and he's leaving the comfort of the chair he's in for the harsh bite of the cement floor under us, waiting for me to make the first move.
These have got to be the tamest alphas in the history of alphas and omegas.
They seem rough and tough, but you get them alone and get them sweet on you and they won't so much as breathe on you without your express permission.
“If you're not ready, I understand,” he tells me in a cloudy tone.
“But if I am?”
“Then I need you to be sure.”