Episode 25 Command Performance #2
His mouth curls into an answering smile, as one of his arms slowly snakes around my waist, like he’s giving me the chance to protest, to tell him no. I don’t though. “You’re charming as bloody hell, cor mea. Of course they fell in love with you right alongside the rest of us.”
My heart lurches then takes off at an alarming pace, while my stomach does this swooping thing that almost makes me feel sick, because… I’m pretty sure the Prince of Bravonne just told me he loves me… or at the very least that he’s falling in love with me.
His warm brown eyes twinkle down at me. “Breathe for me, cor mea.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “My heart.” My lungs jerk and air rushes into my chest. “Good girl. Can’t have you passing out on me. Breathe in again.”
I do.
He pulls me tighter against him, this gorgeous little shiver moving through his giant frame, as his eyes drift closed, almost in ecstasy, just from this, from holding me in his arms, breathing in my unsuppressed scent.
Knowing I might regret it very shortly—but unable to deny my omega instinct that he needs this in the same way I do—my own arms slip up and loop around him, pulling us tighter.
He groans softly, desperately, his head dropping to bury his face in my neck, his beard tickling against the skin as he presses a reverent kiss to my pulse.
He lingers there, breathing in time with me, lips pressed into my skin like he’s counting the beats of my heart.
“You understand don’t you?” Forsythe murmurs, his head resting on my shoulder, arms gripping me tight. “I have to keep her happy to make sure you're safe, cor mea. Even more so now. You’re in her country, where she rules, and I just can’t take the risk of her lashing out at you.”
A shiver rolls down my spine, one that has me nestling closer to him, looking for support, for safety.
“Why didn’t you say anything before? You were so… cold. Polite but distant.”
A choked sound of disagreement rumbles out of him. “Never distant, Florence. That’s impossible.”
I frown and lace my fingers into his hair, pulling until his head lifts so I can meet his eyes. “You wouldn’t even look at me, Sythe. You barely spoke to me. As soon as we landed you all but washed your hands of me. Left me with your pack, sure, but you’ve been gone.”
A sharp shake of his head in denial. “You come at night,” I concede.
“When I’m already asleep. And you're gone before I wake up in the morning. This is the first time we’ve had a conversation in days and it’s only happening because I got up at this ungodly hour to pin you down.
It feels like… Is this what it would be like if I decided to stay? To be with you?”
His brow furrows and he slides his hand up to cup my cheek, holding me like I’m a precious thing.
“I’m sorry, cor mea. This is how it’s always been.
I have more duties than the rest of my pack, less free time.
When we returned I fell into the habit of it, as if nothing had changed.
When really everything has changed. You’ve done that. ”
He hesitates, as though he’s not sure he should say the next part. “I’ve been working on keeping her happy to keep you safe. I didn’t want her to be able to point to your presence as a reason for my failure. And for her to take her displeasure out on you.”
He sounds genuinely concerned, like maybe he’s worried she would do more than call me a manipulative shrew to the media. Like he’s worried for my physical safety and not just my emotional wellbeing.
“Is that…” I swallow thickly. “Is that something we should be worried about? Would she… hurt me?”
He sighs. “Not her, obviously, but it would be…”
“She might suggest it to someone else,” Thayer says, startling both of us. I hadn’t even heard him enter the room. “Like she did with Isadora while we were on the show.”
“Isadora… I don’t understand.”
Thayer moves closer to us, expression dark at the memory. “The queen told our would-be-betrothed about your knee. And hinted that it would be awful if something were to happen that would take you out of the competition for good.”
“Capture the flag!” It doesn’t take much to put two and two together. “She tackled me at my fucking knees! She knew about my prior injury?”
“Yes,” Forsythe admits. “Isadora reluctantly admitted it to Thayer after he barked at her.”
I flinch, but just barely. They still see it, though.
“Don’t do that, killer,” Thayer chides me. “She doesn’t deserve your pity.”
“You don’t understand, Thay,” I tell him. Tell them. “You don’t know what it’s like to have your will taken from you like that. It’s… horrifying. And you can’t fight it. I don’t… God knows, I don’t like Isadora. Can’t stand her. But no one should have someone else’s will forced on them. No one.”
“You’re right,” Thayer says, giving in easily enough.
“Of course, you're right. But I’m not going to apologize for it,. Now we know just how low the queen is willing to go. How low Isadora is willing to go. And I’m also not going to promise not to do it again.
If it comes down to me barking at someone and your safety, your happiness? I’m going to do it in a heartbeat.”
I should argue with him. But my omega is dancing around swinging her bra over her head at that proclamation. I try to keep as much of my dignity as I can while my perfume is blooming in the air around us.
“Thank you for your honesty, professor.”
He grins, pure wolfish intensity. “You know, Sythe. I’ve heard that omegas have a bark, too.”
The prince’s gaze sharpens, growing intense as he looks down at me. “Is that so?”
Thayer hums, pressing closer to both of us. “Indeed. One so powerful it can bring an alpha to his knees.”
A delicate shiver wracks my body and they both grin, all teeth. “You like the idea of that, omega?” Forsythe purrs. “You like the idea of us kneeling for you?”
“I do.” The words slip out before I can stop them. Not that I would. I’m only being honest after all. I love the idea of them kneeling for me, hiking up my skirt and…
Well, you get the idea.
“And we’d love to kneel for you, killer,” Thayer says, running a knuckle down my arm and then picking up my hand to toy with my fingers. “You just need to bark at us and we will.”
I hesitate, even as my perfume blooms heavy in the air and an aroused flush spreads over my chest. I’ve never barked at anyone before. Most omegas don’t. An alpha’s command can hold indefinitely so long as the alpha gives a bit of dominance to it.
An omega’s bark is softer, doesn’t last for very long, more of a suggestion than a command.
“Don’t you want it?” Thayer wheedles, bending to press a kiss to the side of my neck. “The prince of Bravonne, who kneels for no one, taking the knee for you? His omega?”
My chest heaves, and I swear I feel a swell of… not dominance, but something closer to persuasion swell in my chest. Thayer grins against my skin like he can feel it too. “There she is.”
Forsythe stares down at me, his attention sharp and predatory, like he wants to eat me up and I realize that I want that too. So badly.
And so my first ever omega bark cracks out of me. “Put me on the counter.”
Two sets of hands lift and twist me, sliding me onto the island. Forsythe presses between my knees, forcing my thighs apart, nestling his hips in the cradle of mine, his hard cock pressing tight against my slick soaked sleeping shorts.
“What now, omega?” He growls, hips pressing forward.
I hesitate, placing my hand on the lapel of his jacket, feeling the thundering of his heart through the fabric.
“I don’t want to make you do anything you aren’t ready for,” I tell him honestly.
His predatory gaze softens, melts. “So if I tell you to do something you don’t want to do, I want you to tell me, okay? ”
“Sweet omega,” he groans, shifting forward to place a soft kiss on my mouth. “There is nothing you could tell either of us to do that we wouldn’t be salivating for.”
I know that’s not true, if I were to bark at him to call Isadora right now and tell her their engagement is off, he would balk at that.
My mind skitters away from the thought of her, from what exactly we’re doing. This is not a kind thing. It's not the right thing. I know it. In the eyes of the world, I am the other woman. They are bound to Isadora through a verbal promise. Or maybe even a written contract.
But they’re bound to me through a promise of the soul.
Does one negate the other?
I don’t know.
But I’m so tired of fighting the pull of the fated mate bond.
And so I don’t.
“Take off my clothes,” I tell them with no omega bark lacing my tone. It doesn’t matter, fifteen seconds later I’m naked, sitting on the island, the marble cold against my ass and thighs.
“Bloody beautiful,” Thayer mutters, blue eyes running over every inch of bare skin, the globes of my breasts, my peaked nipples, the thatch of blond hair at the apex of my thighs.
The prince grunts his agreement, and my lips tip up at the corners. I’ve never heard him make that sound before. He’s hummed to be sure. But he’s always been capable of words.
I love that the sight of my bare body has reduced him to grunts.
His big hands curl around my knees, long fingers caressing the skin, the scars there gently, before pushing them wider, revealing more of me to their hungry eyes. “So pretty. So pink. So wet.”
God, I really am. Slick is dripping out of me, pooling on the marble of the counter, and I can’t even find it in me to be embarrassed about it.
“Is this all for us, killer?”
I swallow and nod. “Yes.”
“Such a good omega for us.” Forsythe presses between my spread legs, fully clothed in his three piece suit and there is something delicious about that.
In the contrast between my naked form and his covered one, about my slick soaking into the fly of his perfectly tailored pants as he grinds his cock against me, making me whine.
Like I’m some kind of siren tempting him to his doom.
No.
No. That’s not what this is.