Chapter twenty-six #3
“Who’s fucking you, Stray?” I growl, hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head back to bare her throat.
“You are,” she gasps. “You are, Miles.”
“That’s right.” I fuck her harder. “Say it again.”
“You are—Miles, you—please—“
“Please what?”
“Please don’t stop.”
I want to laugh, but I can’t breathe. She’s perfect like this, fucked open and helpless, taking everything I give her and begging for more. It’s like she chose me on purpose.
I let go of her wrists, grab her throat instead, not tight enough to cut off air but enough to hold her still. To remind her who’s in control. I lean down, lick her sweat, nip her cheek, kiss her mouth. She kisses me back, messy and desperate.
Her scent is everywhere. So is mine.
I pull out, flip her over, force her up on her knees.
She goes willingly, gripping the sheets, ass in the air.
I line up, slide in again. She moans, so loud I worry the neighbors will hear even through the trees.
I reach around, rub her clit with my fingers, fast and rough, not caring if it’s too much. She screams, not in pain but in relief, and her whole body shakes.
She comes, hard. It’s real, I can feel it. Her cunt squeezes me so tight I lose control and spill inside her, my body going rigid as I ride it out.
I collapse on top of her, mouth pressed to her neck, biting one last time.
We lie there, tangled, slick with sweat, catching our breath.
Eventually I roll off and stare at the ceiling. My heart is pounding so loud I can’t hear anything else.
She moves, rolls onto her side, face turned to me.
Her hair’s a mess, her skin mottled red and purple from my teeth, her eyes glazed but happy. Really happy.
“You okay?” I say.
She nods. “Yeah.”
I look down. There’s blood on her thigh, smeared on the sheets.
I freeze.
I know it’s normal, I know it happens, but something about the sight of it makes my chest go tight.
“You didn’t tell me you’d never… I knew you were abusing suppressants, but you’ve never even had a true heat? A temporary alpha?”
She shakes her head, smiles like it’s not a big deal. “I never wanted to go through that with a stranger. But I wanted it to be you today. I chose you.”
There’s a feeling I can’t name. Pride, maybe. Or a sense of victory so total it shuts my brain off for a second. Or maybe something else… something I don’t want to look at.
“Miles,” she says with more fire in her voice than I’ve heard since she first arrived. I look up at those bright eyes that always remind me of Gabriel.
“Stop overthinking it,” she continues. “I wasn’t saving my virginity for some alpha I may never get. I’ve just never wanted to do this with someone before. Until today.”
“I’m not an alpha,” I say. “You know that, right? I mean, you should since I couldn’t knot you.”
She shrugs. “I like you anyway.”
I look at the ceiling again. I can’t talk. I don’t want to. I’m afraid if I do I’ll say something real. I’m not ready for that.
We lie there for a long time, not touching, just breathing in the silence.
Eventually, she gets up, goes to the bathroom. I hear the shower turn on. I wonder if she’s upset, or just cleaning up.
I don’t care.
Fuck. Do I? I don’t like that I’m questioning it.
I put my clothes back on, cover the blood with the blanket, and go downstairs.
The house smells like us. Like sex. Like omega and burnt sugar and ozone and that not-so-subtle note of sweet arousal that says I won.
I sit at the kitchen table, open the sketchbook, and draw until my hand hurts.
She doesn’t come down for an hour. When she does, she’s in clean clothes, hair damp, eyes puffy but not red.
She looks at me. She isn’t afraid. The look doesn’t say anything, really, except a kind of relief.
“You hungry?” I ask.
She nods.
I make her a sandwich. Put chips on the plate. Pour her a soda. She sits across from me and eats every bite.
She eats like she trusts me to feed her. Like she expects me to take care of her after I break her apart. Just like an alpha would.
We don’t talk about what happened. We don’t talk about anything.
We just eat.
***
It’s dark when the alphas get home.
First the garage door. Then the heavy boots, the slam of the truck. The creak of the front door.
I’m in the living room, sketchbook on my lap, Lily curled up on the other end of the couch, feet tucked under her.
Gabriel walks in first.
He freezes and I see the exact moment he smells it. His face goes flat, his eyes wild. He knows.
Garrett comes in right behind him. He smells it, too. Then Cyrus.
They look at me. Then at her. Then back at me.
I stare them down, chin up, eyes daring them to say a word.
You welcomed this, I think. You brought her here. You left us alone. You let her in my house, in my life, in my head.
Now she’s mine.
I don’t feel replaceable right now.
They don’t say anything.
Gabriel looks at her like he’s already lost something.
They just stand there, taking it in, breathing it in, the knowledge settling over them like a blanket they can’t ever shake off.
I smile, just a little.
I know what I am now.
And I dare anyone to try and take it from me.