Chapter 16 #2
Okay, that’s unfair. He’s doing this because Kyren and I fucked up. I think that since we committed the crime, we should do the time and not drag him into our problems. Right?
Unfortunately, that’s not how things work with Izzy. If one of us is in the dog house, then we all are.
“We’ll make sure he takes it easy,” I grunt, getting out of the car.
Izzy is opening a can of paint as I walk up the stairs, but he’s frowning as he mixes it.
“This isn’t the right color,” he says softly. “Does this look lavender to you?”
Hunching down, I stare at it. It’s supposed to be some type of cream, but it definitely has more purple tones to it.
“It does,” I confess. “Do you want me to go back to the store?”
“Ugh, I can’t do anything right,” he mutters, checking the label. “Maldita sea. The color I wanted is on the label, but it’s definitely not right.”
Usually, Izzy would be able to shrug this shit off and mix his own damn color to match what he wants, but he’s getting really worked up.
“Izzy,” I whisper, pulling him close to me by the back of his neck until our foreheads touch. “This isn’t healthy. I know you know this, baby. Take a deep breath, or I’m kidnapping you with Kyren to have your heat.”
“I can’t. Not yet. I need her to let us in,” he whines.
Goddamn it. Closing my eyes against his pain, I nod.
“Breathe with me then,” I rasp. “The color is pretty, and it’ll add some dimension to the pale color we’re painting everything else. Inhale.”
I bark out the command, knowing it’s the only way to make him pay attention to me when he’s this strung out. His chest expands immediately, a tear sliding down his cheek. It’s not the paint that has him like this, it’s everything else.
He’s entering a dangerous territory, and the longer he waits, the worse his heat will be when he finally goes off his meds. I can already feel that his temperature is warmer than it should be, and his eyes are bloodshot, as if he’s high as a kite.
Maybe I’ll get him drunk tonight and give him a cigar. We’ll travel to the edge of town, build a fire, and just hang out. He needs to take the edge off before he explodes.
There were small warning signs before this, but nothing to worry about.
The front door opens in front of us, but my eyes are on Izzy as I lean back.
“What’s wrong?” Silva asks, her voice much softer than I’m used to. “Are you hurting him?”
“No,” I mutter. “I’d never fucking hurt Izzy.”
“My cameras are wired for sound. I heard you alpha bark him,” she explains.
“He’s fine,” I grunt. It’s not her business. She’s not pack, not yet.
Izzy makes a pained sound before I watch him begin to compartmentalize shit. Ugh. I hate when he does this because now he’s going to bury it all. This tends to make it harder for Kyren and I to monitor.
“I’m good,” he says, blinking. The tear is gone, probably wiped away when my attention shifted to her for a moment, and he’s back to fixating on the paint. “I got the wrong paint color. I’ll have to figure it out.”
Stepping out onto the porch in a pajama shirt and socks, she ignores the chill as she focuses on Izzy.
“Show me. What do you think is wrong with it?” she asks.
“The ground is too cold to sit down on,” I warn her as she begins to lower herself to the ground. We’re all wearing hoodies for now until it warms up, and I pull off mine to lay it on the ground for her to kneel on.
It’s hard not to want to protect her from herself. A part of me feels as if I should pour all of my attention into Izzy while he’s in crisis, as if I’m letting him down if I don’t. However, I effortlessly just offered her my hoodie, and it didn’t cost anyone anything.
Kyren is suspiciously absent, but I’m sure he’s allowing me time to help Izzy. Our omega tends to shut down when there’s too much attention on him, just like he is now.
Fuck.
“It’s more lavender than cream,” Izzy grumbles. “I looked up the colors you mentioned the other day, but this isn’t right. I think the store mislabeled it.”
“You remembered what I told you?” she asks, glancing between the paint and him. “I was mentioning real colors, but sometimes you have to swatch paint to make sure it’ll match what you see online. While this looks more lavender, I kind of like it. Lexi always tells me I need to embrace good change.”
“Omegas don’t like change,” Izzy breathes, frowning at the paint can. “I can probably mix cream into it until it’s right.”
“Don’t,” Silva says gently, touching his wrist. Her brow raises at how warm his skin is but she doesn’t mention it. “Why don't you use it on the front door?”
“It’ll fuck with the color I have for the shutters,” he sighs.
“It won’t if you add a little of this color to it,” I muse, enjoying the way his body straightens slightly.
Izzy was hunching over protectively, another sign that he’s not doing so great. ”I’ll have to test it,” he says with a nod. “Okay. I think this works.”
“Good,” Silva says gently. Her eyes are fiery though as she meets my gaze. “A word inside, Harlan?”
Izzy is busy with the paint, and doesn’t notice her tone as I nod, standing. I lean down to pick up my hoodie, but Silva steals it first, pulling it over her head and threading her arms through the arm holes.
Huh. I guess I won’t be seeing that again. She may not be happy with me, yet that’s not going to keep her from leaning into some of her instincts.
Following her into the house, I notice that she doesn’t speak until she’s inside of the kitchen.
She has her coffee on the island, and I can see the heat coming off of it still. I also notice there’s a tablet set up beside it, which must be connected to the cameras.
Well shit.
“What’s wrong with him?” Silva asks, picking up her coffee mug. “Don’t tell me nothing or that he’s fine, because that’s bullshit, Harlan. His skin is too warm. Is he in heat?”
“Does he smell like he’s in heat?” I ask mildly.
Even now, his scent is still nonexistent, even though he’s wearing my hoodie to have my scent on his skin. When we work together on assignments, he typically will wear an article of clothing that belongs to Kyren or myself, so he always smells like amber or rum.
“No, he smells like you,” she grunts. “Amber, saffron, and distinctly of alpha. I’m not going to ask what’s wrong again. Don’t gate keep. I care about him too.”
“Since when?” I laugh. “You hate my pack, and here we are scraping along in prostration to earn your trust.”
“You want prostration?” Silva asks, pulling off her sock and lifting her leg until her foot is pressed against my chest. “Kiss my foot and eat shit, Harlan. You’re so fucking dramatic.
I don’t hate you. How am I supposed to feel when you said I may as well be working with sex traffickers?
You hold me in really high esteem. That feels fucking awesome. ”
I can see up the length of her leg and she’s not wearing panties. Her pussy is slick, bare, and beautiful. Fuck, why does the universe both love and hate me this much.
I can’t help but inhale her incredible scent, immediately deciding that she can’t be that mad at me because I can smell her sweetness. Cherries and bitter almonds. Goddamn, this fits her so well.
Moving my eyes to hers, I hold her foot and drop to my knees, kissing her foot.
“We were wrong,” I bite out, moving to her ankle before kissing it too. “The information I had was incomplete, leading me to make completely false assumptions.”
She remains frozen, coffee in hand as I drag my nose up to her thigh.
“I may have thought this interaction was going to go differently,” she whispers.
“Too bad. We’re on a runaway train, beautiful. Choo motherfucking choo.”
I mean, I’ll stop if she tells me to, but I really hope she doesn’t.
“Izzy needs to go into heat. He’s just too fucking fixated and stubborn,” I say, sucking on her soft inner thigh.
Her whimper is magical. I’m careful not to bite down, figuring her discomfort with alphas is partly due to bites.
“Why won’t he?” Silva asks, watching as I push my hoodie and her sleep shirt higher up.
“You,” I murmur. “The bed and breakfast also isn’t safe for him to have a heat, and he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s an omega. It’s his security blanket. No matter what happens after we all figure out our shit, we will still go on missions that mean he needs to go undercover, Silva.”
“I know,” she says, her hips lifting slightly as I drag my tongue closer to her pussy.
“I need you to come on my face before I go back to painting,” I growl. “You can still hate me, and I’ll go back to groveling for being a shithead. Agreed?”
I wait a long fucking beat as she stares down at me before putting her mug on the island away from herself.
“I think that sounds fair,” she decides.
I get the feeling that Silva doesn’t bend easily. This isn’t even her bending, simply agreeing to let me rock her world. I’ll get nothing in return, other than the flavor of her slick coating my tongue when she orgasms, and I’m perfectly alright with this.
Anything else, I’ll have to earn.
“Glad to hear it,” I murmur, shoving her thighs further open to accommodate my frame. At this point, they’re almost pinned against the wall of the island, and Silva curls her fingers over the edge of the counter as she looks down at me.
Game on, Little Omega.
Opening my mouth, I suck on her arousal, my tongue sliding along her pussy as she whimpers. Her thighs quiver, and I shake my head.
“Keep it together,” I growl against her sensitive skin, enjoying the way she shivers.
My fingers leave slight indentations along her thighs, and I groan as her slick fills my mouth.
“Stop…teasing,” she whines, her chest heaving as I carefully ignore her clit.
Instead, I push my tongue inside her entrance, eating up her delicious cherry flavor. Her fingers yanks out the hair tie to my man bun, and it falls around my shoulders before she fists it to pull me closer.
“Don’t be greedy,” I say, my words mumbled and only half understandable. “Take what I give you.”
Silva gasps and begins to rub her pussy over my mouth, a clear example of someone who isn’t patient.
I love that she’s unraveling, so much so that I move up to her clit to suck hard on it.
She’s been edged long enough that she comes immediately, and I have to lift her up to lay her down on the counter as her knees buckle.
I milk her orgasm by continuing to suck on her clit, not wanting to slide my fingers inside her pussy in case that’s a trigger for her. I’ve completed a lot of psych courses while I worked with the government, and this is something I distinctly remember about traumatic experiences.
I was an asshole to her at the bar, and I don’t want to repeat that.
Glancing up at her I can see that her stomach is bare, and I can feel her slick clinging to my beard.
“Good morning, beautiful,” I rumble, smirking.
“Good morning to you,” she says, her breathing choppy. “Shit, I’m still holding onto your hair.”
“Feel free to tug on it when I’m eating your pussy anytime,” I chuckle, helping her stiff fingers open as she lays on the counter.
“Oh, I don’t know if there will be a repeat performance,” she teases.
At least I hope she is.
“I see an omega who is a puddle of goo,” I reply. “I think it needs to happen again if you’re this relaxed after coming on my face.”
Smirking, she shrugs as she gathers the will to push herself onto her elbows. Oh, she’s ready to get down to brass tacks, I see.
“Isidro needs to have a heat, and news reports are calling for snow by next weekend for Halloween. Pretend to get kicked out earlier and stay with me,” Silva says.
“What about the rest of our team?” I ask, tickled pink that she’s this concerned about Isidro.
I’m a manipulative asshole. I’ll admit it. I am absolutely willing to use our current situation to get closer to Silva.
“They can figure it out,” she shrugs. “I refuse to have a full house of alphas. Besides, they don’t know Isidro is an omega, which means they’re not invited.”
Damn do I want to kiss her.
Sobering, I nod to show that I understand what she’s saying.
“Thank you,” I tell her. “Izzy is currently hyper fixated on finishing the painting on your house. He’ll refuse to get off his meds before that.”
“He’s adorable and also a pain in my ass,” she sighs, hopping off the island as I step back. “Go help him, and keep him off my roof! I’m going to shower and then head out to the grocery store.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, licking my lips for a taste of her slick.
“And for God’s sake, wash your face. Your beard isn’t a flavor saver,” she says, shooing me to the sink.
I can’t stop grinning as I wash my face, or when she hands me paper towels to dry it. Once she decides I’m clean enough, she kicks me out, locking the door behind me.
“What happened?” Isidro asks.
Turning, I see that he’s doctoring up the paint he’ll be using on the window shutters.
“We’re slowly coming to an understanding,” I explain.
Standing up, he walks over and breathes me in before groaning.
“Is that code for hate oral?” he asks. “Lucky fucker.”
I watch him closely to make sure he’s not jealous, but he kisses me hard, plunging his tongue into my mouth to suck and find any leftover slick.
“Are we good?” I ask, chuckling.
“Always,” Izzy says, going back to doctoring paint. He’s still moving slower, but he doesn’t appear upset. “Now, go to work, Harlan.”
“Do you have an extra hair tie by chance?” I ask, realizing my hair tie is probably somewhere on Silva’s floor.
“Yeah,” he says absently, pulling it off his wrist to hand to me.
“Thanks,” I say, dropping a kiss on his forehead as I walk by.
Pulling my hair up into a bun, I go in search of Kyren. I need someone to collude with. It’s the only way Izzy is going to get his heat.