Chapter Twenty-Five #3
I crouch, remembering how Blaze showed me how to use my unique Omega physicality to my advantage. Thick thighs, strong core, short stature. It means I have a lower center of gravity, and can pivot quickly.
I wait for Knox to make the opening move.
I'm panting, exhausted, and horny, but I still have something to prove. I don’t have to beat them in combat, but I do have to show them that I'm equally invested.
Pack Scorch are trained killers, the best at what they do.
They give one-hundred percent, and if I want to be part of this Pack, then I have to try to meet their standard of dedication.
Giving up is not the way to earn my place as their equal.
Blaze’s pupils are dilated, and he’s breathing heavily, his nostrils flaring as he watches Knox and me circle each other.
"You're getting distracted by her scent, Prime," Shade says. “Remember the objective. Push her hard until she—”
“I got it,” Knox barks and inclines his head in acknowledgment. And then, with a speed I can barely track, he lunges.
I dart out of the way, his massive physique moving past me like a bullet.
“Good, stay light on your feet,” he commends, pivoting and coming back for another attack. When did Knox lose his shirt? Because rut-dammit the sight of his toned abs is making it hard to look anywhere else.
Again, I dodge, and again. We dance around each other, and my body heats once again. The aroma of my arousal permeating the air grows thicker and thicker. I’m sticky and soaked. It’s uncomfortable and my frustration is growing.
I aim a sharp kick at his hip.
Before my boot can make contact, Knox’s hand snaps out and catches me mid-air. His fingers wrap around my ankle, and with a quick twist, he torques my leg into an awkward, strained bend. My knee protests immediately.
“Ouch, ouch,” I gasp, hopping on one foot, hands flailing as I try to keep from tipping over.
He doesn’t let go. Just lifts a brow, calm and infuriatingly composed.
“Why’re you aiming for my hip?” he asks, like we’re having a casual chat and he’s not physically dominating me effortlessly. “What did I teach you?”
I frown, mind scrambling. I should know this. But I can’t think. My brain is swimming in thick, heady pheromones. It’s like trying to solve a tactical problem underwater with a vibrator between my thighs.
Knox sighs at my silence, then starts to reel me in.
His hand slides up the back of my calf, fingers brushing behind my knee before guiding it up and hooking my thigh over his hip. The motion forces me closer until I’m up on my tip-toes, and the apex of my thighs is pressing against his thick thigh.
This is part of his strategy.
The make-the-Omega-a-whimpering-mess tactic.
And it’s working.
Oh frack, it might be working too well because I’ve forgotten why we’re even doing this. What did he ask again?
The heat of him sears through the thin barrier of my training clothes, and I fight against the urge to roll my hips and press harder against his thigh. If I could just get a little friction… my breath stutters.
“What do I keep on my hips in battle?” he asks, jostling my thigh slightly to prompt my answer. It makes my core rub against him.
“Mmm,” a strangled moan rips from me as sparks of heat zing inside.
I try to keep the motion going, but he’s holding me firm and I can’t get the leverage.
I’m pulsing with need, and another thick plume of perfume escapes me.
I glance at Viper, Shade, and Blaze, hoping they’ll help me out. Instead, Viper just palms his still inflated knot through his sweatpants and groans, ‘You smell so good, pretty girl.’
I dart my eyes away.
Nope. Not helping.
Really, really not helping.
How is he still aroused? Don’t Alphas have a refractory period? Oh frack. Don’t think about knots. Don’t think about Alpha cock. Don’t—
“Uh,” I stammer, “you’d keep spare magazines on your belt?”
Knox hums in that tone I know means my answer is only half-right and I’ve left him wanting.
Which, in this moment, feels very hypocritical.
I am nothing but want.
Even so, my raging pheromones make me itchy under my skin at the idea of disappointing Knox.
I never want him to leave him anything less than satiated by me.
He has an appetite that needs feeding. I’ve seen it.
He’s holding so much want and desire inside of him that if I push the right button, it’ll all come spilling out.
I want to be his good Omega. To make him proud of me.
“And grenades,” he adds, voice rougher now. “Smoke bombs. Knives. You’d hurt your foot before you’d hurt me.”
I nod, trying to listen. I am. But his grip is changing, loosening slightly on my leg, and if I just rock forward again just right—
He’s playing it cool, but I can feel the tension humming in him too. His chest rises faster now, breath not quite steady. He’s not untouched by this. He’s feeling it. And I could make us both feel so much better.
“Hit me higher next time,” he murmurs, grabbing my hand and guiding it up to the soft spot just above his hipbone. His fingers press mine into the dip of muscle there. “Feel that?”
“Yeah,” I breathe, the word barely more than a whimper.
Oh boy.
Do I feel it.
He breathes heavily through his nose, his nostrils flaring, as he stares down at me. His jaw clenches and unclenches like he’s fighting against more than just our spar.
"Fuck it," he growls, and then his mouth crashes into mine, dragging me fully against him, his thigh slotting between my legs.
Knox doesn’t kiss like the others. He never has. It’s not soft. It’s like a dam breaking all at once.
There’s no finesse, just need.
It’s messy. Really, really messy.
Our teeth click, tongues clash, breath mixing in shallow, hungry gasps. Spit slicks my lips, smears my chin. I don’t care. I want more.
His hands slide under my other thigh and lifts me effortlessly, hauling me up against his body. I wrap around him without thinking, clinging as he holds me close like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he lets go.
My thighs stretch around his waist and I hook my ankles behind his lower back. My thighs are pinned open, and rut, I can feel the thick line of his cock pressing hard against my soaked seam.
He’s throbbing, cock jerking each time I suck on his tongue.
I roll my hips, desperate for friction, for anything to soothe the ache the Pack has spent this entire session carving into my core.
They worked me over methodically. Taking me apart, piece by piece, unraveling my body and testing my limits.
And here I am, spread open not just in body but in mind.
Finally, I fall.
I tip over the edge I’ve been teetering on.