Chapter 3 #2
We leave Gray and Lila murmuring over the crib, stepping out into the blinding white light of the island midday.
The path to the guest bungalows winds through palm scrub and hibiscus, the ocean crashing to our left in rhythmic percussion.
Sharma walks fast, heels digging into the crushed shell path, arms wrapped around her middle like she's holding herself together.
I keep pace, letting her set the speed, watching the tension ripple down her spine.
"You really don't have to do this." She tries again.
"You're going into heat," I say, stating the obvious.
"I fucking know it," she growls back.
"What happened? I thought your suppressants were keeping everything in check."
"Yeah, well, they don't work so well when they're waiting at the airport's baggage terminal for someone to fucking find them."
"Oh, I hadn't realized. Is that why?"
"Yes, that's why I'm barely holding on. If only you weren't such an asshole, we could just get this over with."
"If I were really the asshole you think I am, I would have just grabbed you and given you what your body is craving.
What we're both craving. I wouldn't worry about your no's or your refusals.
The only thing I would care about is my own need.
Instead, I'm about to fucking burst because my mate is giving off enough sweet slick to light a trail to her cabin door for any alpha in the fucking area. "
She wipes the sweat from her brow. "Don't just don't. My head's gone blank. My head is bursting. It's never been like this."
"Because you've never been this close to your alpha before." She makes it to the door before she breaks. Her hand slams on the panel; her voice becomes a keening mew that rips through the fragile barrier of my restraint.
"Oh, for God's sake, you won't even make it inside. Let me help you."
A broken laugh that she barely completes makes it out. "That's what they all say. I didn't fall for the blue balls line when I was a kid, and I'm not falling for it now."
"The more your scent ramps up, the more my alpha is going insane. How much control do you think I have? How long do you think I can last with you emitting like this?"
"I'll get inside. Lock the door. Call room service for ice and—"
Her hand is shaking too badly to even turn the knob. "Fuck this shit, I'm not going to let us both suffer because of your pride."
"It's not pride, you hurt me—"
"Fine. I'll apologize later. After you're mine. I'll apologize every day for the rest of our fucking lives. But first I'm going to get balls deep inside you, carve my name and plant my seed. So that while you're deciding if you'll accept me, your body will already fucking know."
She stops so fast I almost collide with her. Spins, and her eyes are wild, the brown gone molten. The mask cracks — beneath it is the girl I tortured, the twenty-two-year-old omega who stands before me now, terrified and furious, is so fucking magnificent I can't breathe.
A cramp rolls through her body, and she squeezes her arms around her belly. She falls to her knees, but I scoop her up before she can hit the ground. Her lips part. Her tongue darts out, wetting the bottom one. "No—"
I growl before she starts. "Not like this. This can't mean anything—"
"—Everything."
"Let's set some ground rules," she tries again as I carry her through the door and kick it shut behind us. Sealing us with our fate.
"Nope. No rules. You'll take your chances. The same as me."
"What if—" She breaks off, hands flying to her face, fingers pressing into her temples. "God, I can't think. It hurts. Everything hurts and you smell like—" She inhales sharply, her whole body arching toward me involuntarily. "You smell like—"
"Yours. I smell like yours, Just like you smell like mine." Outside, I could pretend to be civilized. Inside, with her heat-scent dismantling logic one layer at a time, the pretense vanishes.
Sharma stands in the center of the room, back to me, shoulders shaking. "I took the suppressant. I was supposed to be safe."
"There's no safer place than in your mate's arms," I tell her as I let her slide down my body.
"You don't even know me. You didn't even recognize my name."
"I know everything about you, Sharma. I know you graduated summa cum laude from Wharton at twenty.
Yes, I looked you up last night. But it was just filling in the blanks.
I know you have a scar on your left knee from falling off Viv's bike when you were twelve.
I know when the two of you tried sneaking out of the house to go on your first double date.
Never been happier that I caught you." Another step.
"I know you're wet right now just from my voice.
I know your body is aching for something only I can give you. "
She makes a sound—half sob, half growl. "Stop."
"I know you're a virgin."
The admission lands in the room. Neither of us moves. "You can't know…" her voice wobbles. "Viv would never have told you that." It's in the way she holds herself. She never let anyone close enough. Never trusted anyone not to hurt her. Not after I damaged her confidence.
"She didn't have to. I see you, little omega. What you are and all of that glorious potential."
"What? The potential to be your mate?"
"That and everything else you'll accomplish. Accomplishments I'll take pride in as your alpha."
"Roan." My name breaks on her lips, as she crumples over in pain. Agony killing any further arguments.
I reach for her. My hand slides up her throat, thumb tipping her chin back, forcing her to meet my eyes.
"I've got you. I'm going to fuck you now.
" I'm as wrecked as she is, but I keep my voice steady.
"I'm going to fill you until you can't remember a time without me inside you.
And then I'm going to knot you, Sharma. I'm going to lock us together so deep you'll feel me for days. "
She whimpers, her body swaying into mine. "You don't get to—this doesn't fix—"
"Nothing's fixed," I agree, and my other hand finds her waist, yanking her flush against me so she can feel how hard I am, how ready, how completely undone she's made me despite every pact, every promise, every wall.
"This is just the beginning. Just the bond.
Just us. We'll work everything else out later. When we can fucking breathe."
I take her mouth.
The kiss isn't gentle. It's a claiming, teeth and tongue and the taste of her—cinnamon sugar and the sharp tang of heat.
She claws at my shoulders, fingers digging into muscle, arching into me with a desperation that mirrors my own.
I don't just kiss her. I consume her, bending her back over my arm, swallowing every gasp, every protest, turning them into moans that roll through me, straight to my gut.
She's never been kissed like this. I can feel it in the stunned, frozen hitch of her breath before she melts, before her lips part wider and her tongue timidly meets mine.
My hands tear at her clothes. The tank top rips. I don't care. The bra comes next, snapped open, gone. The linen pants slide down her hips, pooling at her feet, along with her panties. She's bare, just glistening dark skin and the delirium-inducing scent of slick.
She trembles as I look at her, really look, mapping the territory I've dreamed of since she walked into the rehearsal dinner.
"Fuck," I breathe, reverent. "Look at you."
"Don't look," she gasps, trying to cover herself, embarrassment and arousal warring in the set of her jaw. "I'm—I've never—"
"I know." I capture her wrists, pinning them behind her back with one hand. The posture thrusts her breasts forward, dark and perfect, nipples drawn tight with arousal and fear and the cool air between us. "I know, baby girl. I've got you."
I don't rush to her cunt. Not yet. I want her shattered before I ever touch her there.
I dip my head, closing my mouth around one tight peak.
She cries out, a sharp, broken sound that echoes off the walls, her whole body snapping against me.
She's sensitive, so sensitive that the first pull of my tongue has her knees buckling.
I suck hard, rolling the other nipple between my thumb and forefinger, pinching just enough to make her sob.
She thrashes in my grip, but I hold her wrists trapped, controlling her, using my body to keep her upright while I feast on her breasts.
I switch sides, lavishing the neglected peak with wet heat, nipping with my teeth until she's chanting my name, breathless and raw.
Her hips buck involuntarily, seeking friction, and I press my thigh between hers, letting her grind against the rough fabric of my shorts.
She's soaking my leg, leaving a slick trail, humping me like an animal while I mark her dark skin with bruising kisses and reddened, swollen nipples.
"Please," she whines, the word tearing out of her. "Please, I can't—"
"You can," I growl against the valley of her breasts, licking the sweat gathering there. "You're going to take everything I give you. Every touch. Every filthy thing I've imagined doing to this perfect body." I look up, meeting her glazed eyes. "Tell me you want it."
She shakes her head, stubborn, her lower lip trembling. "I don't—"
I bite down on the underside of her breast, not hard enough to break, hard enough to brand, and she screams, a sound of pure, shocked pleasure. "Liar. Your cunt is dripping down my leg. Your body doesn't lie, Sharma. Even when you do."
I lift her. She weighs nothing, or maybe I'm beyond feeling weight, beyond anything but the imperative to make her come apart.
I carry her to the bed, lay her down on the white duvet, spreading her out like a feast. She tries to close her legs, instinctive modesty, and I stop her, hands on her knees, pressing her open until she's completely exposed to me.