Chapter 35
Alpha Rut
JOHANNA
“Mate. Mine.”
As with many afficionados of iconic romantic plays and films, I’d thrilled to uncounted alpha heroes and heroines pledging their affection for their omega counterparts.
Beatrice allowing Pack Benedick to claim her with a kiss.
Pack Johnny freeing Baby from the corner.
Hephaestion being courted by Alexander the Great and his pack.
Hearing these directed at me in person, though, provides nowhere near the thrill.
I like Nathan on so many levels, have every intention of exploring our attraction and building it to be pack-worthy, and am definitely teetering on the brink of love—but we’re not there yet.
Alphas may be creatures of instinct, but not betas, or not most of us, or not me.
I want to be in love and loved. Gods, so much. I can practically taste my dream of being part of a pack turning into a reality—as though each breath carries a hint of three different scents melding into one.
But not yet. As ready as I am to move fast, my heart thumps in my chest at an almost painful rate. A bitter copper tang floods my mouth. My hands shake.
Even were I ready to hear these words, this is the wrong place.
It’s Max’s bedroom which was mine, but isn’t anymore.
I can still imagine him strolling through the empty space, dropping wet towels in the bathroom, flipping through his closet in search of some specific piece of clothing that invariably turns out to be at the bottom of his hamper, or sifting through my hamper for something with my scent, before heading off on an overnight trip.
True, something between Nathan and me changed when he shared Max’s last message.
We came so close to being part of a pack, but Nathan courted Max and not me.
I don’t blame him for that—Max was the sticking point in any negotiations—but that leaves me catching up, while Nathan has clearly zoomed to the end of the trail.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, no doubt Caity and Bebe and Corin responding to Anamaria’s group text announcing her coming heat and consequent retreat to the Omega Center.
I’m alone in the house with Nathan.
No, not Nathan—his alpha. His every aspect shifts, movements are looser and less controlled. His walk becomes a stalk, back arched and head angled forward. His pupils expand, almost completely obliterating his irises.
His nostrils flare and twitch as I shift and inch toward the door, his movements adjusting as though he’s guided by scent rather than by sight.
The changes rouse vague memories of reading the warning signs of an alpha lost to rut, when instincts completely overwhelm rational thought.
The need to possess and claim rules alphas in rut.
Everyone gets training in how to identify and deal with rutting alphas, but that was way back in high school!
I don’t remember anything, not even from movies with rutting characters, about what to do in real life.
I take a slow, cautious step back, then another, through the doorway and into the hall. Nathan’s alpha grabs hold of the door, preventing me from closing it between us. He prowls forward, but slowly.
“Mate,” he repeats, though his eyelids flicker and for a moment, his pupils retreat and his irises reemerge, only to vanish again.
Fingers fumbling at my pocket, I grab my phone and speed dial Corin. “Nathan’s going into rut!”
“Are you sure?”
Of all the times for Corin to second-guess me, sounding flustered in the bargain.
“Corin!”
Nathan steps through the doorway, swaying, his shoulders brushing the sides.
The movement shifts the air flow so that I get a full-face flush of his scent.
Hot wax, freshly snuffed candle, and heavy alpha musk, all merge to hit me with a rush of lust. My nipples pebble, poking at the front of my shirt.
Blood rushes to my groin, so each movement rubs my clit. My breaths grow shallow.
I match his forward momentum with backward steps, carefully, cautiously. I don’t want to get into a not-game of chase or accidentally tumble down the stairs.
“Mate.” This time Nathan lingers on the a before closing the word with a chopped t.
“I don’t . . .” Corin stutters through the phone. “Are you alone? Is Caity anywhere near?”
“No, it’s just me.” Anamaria’s not far, but I’m not calling her back with her heat close. Bad enough to have Nathan focused on me; worse, if he were to shift to her.
Nathan reaches for me as I slip back. His fingers brush my arm, sending ripples of unwanted pleasure along my nerves. Despite my body’s physical response to Nathan, I don’t want him like this. To hell with biological imperatives to mate—especially for those of us no longer young.
Much as I long for a pack, to be bound in spirit with bites and bonds, I want us to do it with deliberation, surrounded by the rest of whatever pack we make around us.
To choose each other with both our rational and instinctive selves.
This is far from that, yet it happened so fast, I have no idea how we got here.
“Mate.” Again, Nathan stretches the word out, infusing it with ever more satisfaction.
Corin’s breathing heavily, audible over the phone, until suddenly, I hear a grunt, followed by a distant command “Give me that.”
“Johanna, see if you can get him to say your name.” Dan’s voice comes through loud and clear, replacing Corin’s.
“My name?” I back further down the hall. Two more steps will bring me to my bedroom. I nearly trip over my bunny slippers, so I kick them off to the side. The floor is cool underfoot, helping me focus.
“Just do it—see if he can say it.” Thuds and a slamming door punctuate the command. It’s not exactly a bark—I could demur—but it’s the first suggestion of an alternative to retreat.
“Nathan, I’m Johanna. Johanna.” He’s so close, his breath warms my neck. I cup his chin and push him to face me. A thin brown line rings his blown pupils. “Remember me?”
“Mate.” One of his arms curves around my waist as he slips free of my hand to bury his face against my neck.
“I’m Johanna. Say my name. Who am I?” I stumble back against the entry to my bedroom; the doorframe’s hard, steady support holds me up.
“Johanna.” Nathan’s scent is more potent this close.
He’s all I can see, feel, smell. He’s so warm, as though he’s going into heat.
His erection pulses against my thigh, but he doesn’t push, too busy nuzzling my throat.
My skin tingles where we touch, whether skin to skin or with layers of cloth between. “Johanna. Mate.”
“He’s sniffing my neck.” I gasp as Nathan’s mouth opens, lips covering teeth as he presses loose kisses against my collarbone and shoulder. “Kissing it. But he said my name.”
“I heard,” Dan says. “Don’t let him bite you.”
“Figured that much—but what do I do?” It would be so easy to give in and let the fever boiling off Nathan swamp me.
Every mote of my body blazes with arousal, except a small part of my brain—the same core of reason that got me through Max’s heats, year after year, when it would’ve been simpler to let go.
Nathan’s already half-seduced my instinctive self into wondering what would be so wrong about letting him bite me. We’d be a done deal—unless his rational self disagrees with his alpha.
I want Nathan talking to me, the two of us figuring out what to try to ensure we both find pleasure, as we did during Max’s last heat.
Something along the lines of how Corin and I moved from friends to lovers—not this heady demand, Nathan’s alpha ruling, pushing me, and now, sucking in a way sure to leave a hickey.
“Keep getting him to say your name,” Dan urges as odd bangs and slams sound in the background. “As long as he’s able to do that, he’s still in the first stages of rut, and we can get him out without hours of hassle.”
“Now he’s sucking my neck.”
“Sucking is okay—well not okay, but not final. Just don’t let him bite.” Dan growls.
The sound catches Nathan’s attention in a way that the others’ words, haven’t. He lifts his head and looks around—trying to scent the source of the growl, given the way his nose works—and snarls in response.
“Hold the phone so Nathan can hear, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Order Nathan not to bite her. Tell him he can lick and suck, but no teeth.” The volume of Dan’s voice lowers, suggesting he’s not talking to me.
“Why not you?” Corin asks, distant and slightly harder to hear.
Nathan stops looking for rivals, returning to nuzzling and licking my throat.
Another short growl from Dan. “Because you’re prime alpha—or will be—while Nathan and I are still figuring out who will dominate who, and when. If you give the order, he might listen.”
All the while, Nathan’s licking and sucking. His teeth press lightly against my throat as I angle the phone so the speaker points at him.
“I’m Johanna, Nathan.” It’s hard to breath with his body against me. My voice comes out high and breathy as I repeat, “Say my name.”
“Johanna.” Nathan pulls back a moment. When he returns to my throat, his lips cover his teeth. Somewhere deep inside, his rational self knows me and resists the urge to bite. A little of the tension in my shoulders bleeds away. “Mate.”
“Nathan,” Corin says, loud and strong.
Even coming from the phone, there’s an edge to his voice that commands attention. I turn up the audio.
Nathan freezes.
“No biting. You hear me?” Corin’s bark makes me flinch even though it’s not directed my way. The words vibrate in my teeth to the edge of pain. “No biting.”
“No biting. Mate.” The words are muffled against my throat, but clear. Then, as his warm tongue shifts to lick at my shoulder, a well-enunciated “Johanna,” almost like a plea.
“Good a—urgh.” Corin coughs. There’s a thump on the other end of the line.
“Johanna, don’t say any designations—especially his,” Dan says. “Only call him by his name. Got that?”