Chapter nine #2
I didn’t think she’d know that. “Fine. I was pressed to the door like a little spy. I heard every word. He was on speaker. David Mercer doesn’t want damaged goods, and Gabriel spent twenty minutes after the call trying to figure out how to tell you.
That’s why he was in such a shit mood last night. ”
She shoves away from the counter and takes two steps toward the hall.
“Wait.”
“Why? So you can torture me with more details? Pass.”
“He wants to find you a pack.”
“Really? Hadn’t noticed.”
“But that’s the thing, isn’t it? He wants to find you a pack, but they have to be good enough. He’s not sending you to just anyone. He’s vetting them.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“It should.” I shrug. “I’d let you walk out the door to a shitty pack and not lose a minute of sleep. Gabriel won’t. He’d rather have his own balls cut off than fail a single omega.”
She’s watching me now, suspicious. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want you to see that Gabriel isn’t doing this for you. He’s doing it for himself. To ease his own conscience. He doesn’t care about you—he just wants to be the good guy.” I sip my coffee. “That’s all he’s ever wanted.”
She doesn’t say anything. I can practically see the words turning over in her mind.
“How’s the shoulder?”
“It’s fine.”
“Did Cyrus put more ointment on it?”
“No, I did.”
“Liar. You couldn’t even reach the mug.”
“I’m capable of cleaning it.”
“Not with that bite. I got deep.”
“Why did you bite me?”
I wasn’t expecting that. I freeze for a second. “I don’t know.”
“You do. You just don’t want to say it.”
She’s edging closer again. The tension pulls tight, taut. Her scent is stronger now, ozone and peaches filling the air.
“You were marking me,” she says. “That’s why you did it. In your head, I was leaving, and you wanted me to take a piece of you with me.”
My pulse kicks up. “That’s not true.”
“It is. Just like the scratches. You’re angry and scared, and I get that.
You think I’m here to take your pack. But I’m not.
I’m leaving as soon as Gabriel finds someone who’ll have me, and then you’ll never have to see me again.
And you’ll always know I have your mark on my shoulder.
Cyrus says it won’t scar. But you’ll still know. ”
“You think that mark means anything? I wasn’t trying to claim you. I was trying to hurt you.”
“You can do both.”
I set down my mug with a thud against the counter. Then I’m moving, closing the distance between us, using my body to back her into the counter. She doesn’t run. She tips her head up and holds her ground, and she’s so fucking little that I feel enormous for once in my life.
“You don’t know me,” I say. “You don’t know anything.”
“I know your type.”
“What’s my type?”
“An omega who’s so terrified of being replaced that you’d attack an innocent person. Someone who’s so scared to be left that you’ll do anything to keep your alphas close.” She speaks in barely a murmur. “At least I know what I am. I’m the omega nobody wanted. What’s your excuse?”
It hits me where it hurts.
My response is to get closer, use my height. I growl. It’s a male omega growl, deep in my throat, nothing like the cute little purrs the female omegas learn to make. I see the fear flicker in her eyes. Good.
“You think I need an excuse? The only thing keeping you safe is that my alphas would be pissed at me for doing what I want to do. And what I want is to remind you of your place.” I lean in, my lips at her ear, and drop my voice to a harsh whisper.
“Your place is gone. The second the next pack takes you. The moment they bite you and the claiming takes… the bond with my pack dissolves. You will be nothing. A nobody. The only person in the world who ever made your own scent match look at you and say no thanks.”
She breaks.
I feel it. I feel the fight drain out of her. Her shoulders curve inward, her chin tucks, and her eyes drop to the floor. She bares her neck, exposing the mark I left on her shoulder—the bite that looks too much like a claiming mark.
Power floods me. My dick is pulsing. I am painfully, achingly hard. I’ve never been hard for an omega. Never once. My body doesn’t understand that she’s not an alpha. It only knows that she submitted to me, that I made her small, and I have the power to make her even smaller.
My omega stirs. Not the omega I used to be.
The one who knew how to be what I’m supposed to be.
The omega who curled up in the crawlspace under my old house and waited to die because he had nothing left to live for.
This is the omega that crawled out of the wreckage of my old life.
The one who built walls and armor and knows that control is the only truly safe thing in life.
This omega likes the way she cowers under me, waiting anxiously for my next move.
I feel… fucking alive.
Her scent changes. Up close, with her body in a submissive state, the ozone and peach is different than it’s been at a distance. It’s warm and soft, curling into my chest. She smells like tears. Like a tiny thing who’s been crying alone in a room.
I can’t breathe. I’m staring down at her submission, my dick hard, my heart racing, and I want—
I shove away from the counter. “Get out.”
She startles, head snapping up.
“Get out of my kitchen.” I need her gone. Now.
She listens. She takes her mug and flees.
I stand there in the silence, shaking.
***
My hard-on isn’t going away.
I left the kitchen the second her footsteps faded, but I went to the downstairs bathroom instead of upstairs to the pack room.
I thought maybe I could splash cold water on my face, shock myself out of it.
But I caught sight of my reflection—pupils blown, cheeks flushed, my scent thick with the bitter tang of adrenaline—and I locked the door and sank to the floor.
What the fuck was that?
I don’t want her. I’ve never wanted an omega. Male or female. Omegas submit to alphas, not to me. That’s the order of things. Except she just submitted to me.
So why is my body betraying me now?
It was the submission. Had to be. The electric rush of making someone smaller than they are.
Of making me feel powerful, in control of her.
My pack are alphas—when I submit, it’s because I want to, because it feels good, but there’s a fundamental power imbalance that can’t be ignored.
With Lily, I was the one with power. An omega submitted to me.
She looked up at me like I was someone to obey, not match.
Like I could hurt her if I wanted to, and all she could do to stop me was beg.
She looked at me like I was one of her alphas.
I can’t let myself get hard over that. It’s sick. It’s twisted.
I’m twisted.
I get off the floor, splash water on my face, and do my best to pull myself together.
My dick is still hard, but I can hide it if I’m careful.
I need to find Garrett. Garrett will help me forget this ever happened.
He’ll scent me until all I can smell is honey and sage.
He’ll kiss me until I can’t think. He’ll fuck me until my brain goes white and empty.
I take the stairs two at a time. Garrett’s door is cracked open, the light on. He’s awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with a book in his lap.
He looks up as I enter. “Miles? Everything okay?”
I start pacing. Can’t help it. “Fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I can smell you from here.”
I stop. “What do you mean?”
“Your scent is spiked. The burnt sugar’s gone acrid. It’s practically screaming.” He sets down the book. “What happened?”
“Nothing. I couldn’t sleep. I was in the kitchen.”
“Lily’s scent is all over you.”
Of course he can smell her. She was pressed against the counter with my body caging her in. “She was in the kitchen too. We talked.”
Garrett is quiet for a second. Then, in a careful tone: “What did you say to her, Miles?”
“Nothing. We just talked.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care if you believe me.”
“Miles.” He stands up, crossing to me, but he doesn’t touch me. He never touches me when I’m like this. “She doesn’t deserve your cruelty. Whatever you’re doing to her, you need to stop. She’s going through something terrible, and the least you can do is leave her alone if you can’t be kind.”
“You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I know exactly what it’s like to have your own body turn against you?” I’m shaking. “I was fine until she got here. I was getting better. I was—I was almost okay.”
“Oh, baby.” He says it soft, cajoling. He does touch me now, his hand on my arm, and I almost lean into it. “This isn’t her fault.”
“She’s in my house. In my space. She smells like everything I’m about to lose.”
“Nobody is taking us from you.”
“Gabriel wants her.”
Garrett hesitates. He doesn’t lie to me. He won’t. “Gabriel wants her,” he says carefully, “but he won’t have her. He made you a promise.”
“He wants her more than he’s ever wanted anything. I smell it on him. I’ve never smelled him like that, Garrett. Never. It’s like lightning.”