Chapter 11
Graham
Silas rolls his shoulders a little as he white knuckles the steering wheel. I’ve never seen him so stressed. Me, though? I’m thrilled. We found our omega.
Probably.
Statistically there’s a chance that she isn’t ours, but I have a feeling.
Scientists aren’t supposed to rely on intuition. We’re supposed to be numbers, facts, and data-driven. But instinct has led me to secure three of my four most profitable patents. You learn to trust your gut when things like that start happening.
I push my glasses up and stare out the window.
“Call him again.” Silas stares straight ahead as he drives us toward the clinic.
“I’ve called and texted. He’s not responding.”
“Try. Again.” It’s a growl, not a bark, but I quickly hit the call button. No point in pissing him off any more than he already is.
The phone rings once through our Land Rover’s speakers before switching to voicemail.
“You’ve reached Saint. You know what to do.”
“I don’t know where you are or what you’re doing, but when I finally see you, you better have some fucking answers.” This time he does bark, sharp but useless over the phone.
I end the call. I hope he’s listening to his voicemails.
“I don’t understand. Why would Saint walk out on his mate?”
Silas exhales slowly before responding. “He’s depressed. I should have talked to him about it. Just thought it would pass.”
Yeah. Me too. I‘m not always good at knowing what to say. But I knew Saint was suffering. His mom’s passing was sudden and they were close. And then there was the accident at work. That’s when he really fell away from our pack.
We failed him. Both of us. I've read enough about grief and trauma response to have recognized the signs earlier. I did recognize them. I just didn't know what to do with what I saw. But one look at Silas’s face tells me he is taking all the blame.
“I should have talked to him. Forced him to see a counselor.” His voice is all gravel and pain.
“Still can… when we finally get in touch with him. But now, we need to worry about our omega.”
Silas flexes his right hand. His left still has a chokehold on the wheel. We’re parked now. Every alpha instinct I have is screaming at me to get out of this car. I’m barely holding myself back.
“She may not be ours,” he warns.
I nod. It’s possible. My instinct says she is, though.
“Promise me you’ll be cool.”
Me? Cool?
I run a mental checklist. Don’t talk about research. Don’t mention statistics. Don’t purr. Or do? I have no idea what I’m walking into.
“I’ll be good. I promise.”
“Mr. Caron, thank you for coming.” A small omega steps forward and grasps Silas’ hand. “I’m Alice. We spoke on the phone.” She turns to me and extends her hand. “And you must be another packmate.”
“I’m Graham Wiley,” I say. “Is she doing okay?”
Her eyes dart to the door to my right before looking back at me. “She’s… hurting. I’ve never witnessed a spike like this. She may require medical attention.”
A muscle ticks in Silas’ jaw. “Can we see her?”
Alice hurries ahead. “Of course. We’ve moved her to a nesting room. This way.”
We follow behind, Silas taking the lead, as is his right as the pack alpha. I force myself to remember that when I get the first hint of her. Warm caramel, thick with something deeper underneath, sweet enough to make my mouth water. My alpha urges me to push ahead.
Mate!
Every paper I’ve ever read on scent recognition describes it as unmistakable. They weren’t wrong.
Silas’ body jerks forward. He feels it too.
Our omega.
Alice opens the door. My mate’s sticky caramel scent floods my nose. So thick I can taste it. My own chocolate and hazelnut scent spikes in answer. Embarrassingly thick, even to my own nose.
The room is dimly lit to accommodate her need for darkness. I can only just make out a rumpled form on the mattress.
“I’ve brought someone to meet you.” Silas and I stumble through.
“Omega,” Silas rumbles, “let your alphas help you.”
The form moves. “Alphas?” she whimpers.
She pushes herself up. It’s too dark to see the color of her eyes or hair, but I can make out her high cheekbones and pouty lips.
Beautiful.
I close the distance, stopping just short of entering the nest.
Be cool, I remind myself.
“May I?”
She emits a raw whine. Every muscle in my body locks. “Hurts. Can’t—”
“Let me help you, omega.”
She grabs me with desperate fingers and drags me into the nest. My thoughts scatter. Every research paper, carefully constructed theory, every number. Gone. Thankfully my alpha knows what to do. With his prodding, I pull her close, folding my arms around her. I kiss her forehead. She’s burning up.
“Silas, she needs our help. She’s so hot.”
He moves toward the bed. “Can I come in too, little one?” Her hands go up and I help her lean forward to grab his hand. He topples down beside us.
Alice clears her throat. “Sir, this is unprecedented. There is no protocol.”
“Leave us,” Silas snarls. “We will assist our mate.”
She hesitates before responding. “No knots. She isn’t—”
Silas’ growl is dangerously low. “No one will harm her.”
Alice reluctantly submits, closing the door with a soft click.
“Let me help you, beautiful.” I sit up, pulling her with me and spreading my legs so she can sit between them and rest her back against my chest. Her soft ass rubs against my crotch. My cock snaps hard against my zipper. “That’s it, beautiful. Your alphas will take care of you.”
Silas approaches with careful movement. “Darling, I need you to answer me. Do you want your alphas to help?”
Her body tenses and her hands clutch at her stomach. “I need—” She slumps forward, breathing deeply through the spasms.
I rub her shoulders. “Beautiful, we want to help, but you have to answer your alpha first.”
She whimpers and it tears at my heart. My omega should never hurt like this. But we can’t help her until she gives her permission.
When she finally relaxes, Silas takes her chin in his thick hands. “Tell me now, sweet one. Let me help you.”
“Yes,” she breathes. Everything shifts.
Relief floods me so fast it makes me dizzy. I exhale a breath I think I've been holding since Alice called us. Silas lets out a pent-up breath.
“Sit back, beautiful.” She relaxes back into my chest, at least as much as she can.
I kiss the top of her head. Even at her height, she tucks easily under my chin. Sweat slicks her hair to her neck. I push it aside and gently nip at her neck. “Open your legs for Silas.”
She spreads for him. Silas slides her skirt up over her hips. She’s naked beneath the skirt. My control nearly snaps.
“You’re so wet, aren’t you, little one?” He sinks a finger into her soaked center causing her body to buck.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “So tight, too.”
My fingers ache to touch her, but I keep them steady on her hips. “Do you like that, beautiful? Do you like your alpha’s finger in your pussy?” She turns her face and pulls me in for a kiss. Her fingers are knotted in my hair. Possessive.
My muddled brain clears just enough to hear Silas moan. “Our little omega likes to be kissed, Graham. She’s soaking now.”
“More,” she cries against my mouth. She rocks her hips in rhythm with Silas’s fingers as she deepens our kiss.
I lose myself in the feel of her swollen lips against mine.
Our tongues tangle together until she pulls away.
Her hips jerk in an erratic rhythm, forcing her soft ass to grind against me.
I’m going to come in my pants like a teenager if she keeps this up.
I focus on reciting the periodic table. I get to calcium before she grinds again and I lose my place entirely.
“Alpha,” she squeals.
“Keep singing like that, little bird. It’s my favorite song.” Silas hums from his position between her legs.
With my left hand I pin her hips down and grind my hard cock against her bottom. My right cups her breast. My thumb finds her pert nipple, hard even under the layers of her clothing, and rubs a tight circle around the nub.
She reaches back with her right hand, clutching the back of my neck and pulling me forward so that my mouth is against her exposed shoulder.
I bite. Not hard enough to break skin. She shudders, then arches her back and leans her head further to the left, exposing her skin to me further. I lick the spot before nipping again.
She groans. Her left hand reaches below and tugs Silas’ dark, thick hair.
“Your mouth.” A command.
He and I growl in unison. Our mate smells syrupy and feels temptingly soft, but she has a dominance that I find intoxicating. She’s fire and spice, giving orders like she was born to it. My alpha doesn't bristle. He preens.
“Yes, little bird,” he rumbles. He moves his arms so that her thighs rest on top of his shoulders. Then he ducks his head and licks up her slit until he reaches her clit.
“Tell me how our girl tastes,” I rasp.
“So fucking sweet,” he groans before going in for more.
She rides the space between his face and my cock, setting a rhythm that has me driving against her. Her body pitches into Silas’ face and soon we are all moaning.
She’s close. I can feel it in the way she moves. The hitch of her breath.
“That’s it, beautiful. Come for your alphas.”
She releases my neck and grips Silas’ hair with both hands. She grinds hard into his mouth and, god help me, I buck into her ass, pushing her further into Silas’ waiting tongue. She shatters in my arms, and I break with her.
She relaxes into my chest, and I tighten my arms, holding her close. Silas lays between her legs. He kisses the inside of her thigh then dips his cheek and nuzzles her soft skin. Marking her with his whiskey and honey scent. Lucky bastard, pressed where I want to be.
I mirror his movements, spreading my chocolate and hazelnut scent over every inch I can touch at this odd angle.
When our breathing slows, Silas looks up from between her legs. “What’s your name, little bird?”
Her body goes rigid before she pulls away. Her scent turns acrid. Still unlike anything I’ve ever smelled before but singed with anxiety.
Her lips part, then close. She takes a deep breath. “I—I need the bathroom.”
The three of us struggle to untangle our bodies.
“Of course,” I say, lurching out of the nest first and lending her a hand to stand. “We won’t go anywhere. Take your time.”
She blinks up at me, pupils large in the low light of the room.
She hurries out of my reach, taking a wide path around the foot of the nest where Silas watches her.
Something on the floor catches her attention.
She bends and snatches up a strip of cloth, her discarded panties, and rushes toward a door opposite the one we entered.
I think I love her already.
Silas lifts himself from the nest just as she slips through to the next room and shuts the door. He reaches down and readjusts himself.
“That was—”
“Incredible? Staggering? Phenomenal?” I supply.
“Mind-blowing,” he finishes. “I can’t even think right now.”
Same. I’ve read every paper ever published. None of them prepared me for this.
We wait in silence. She doesn’t return. Something feels wrong.
Silas stalks toward the door. He knocks, “Little bird, are you okay? Do you need us again?”
No answer.
“Should we go in?” I ask. “Maybe she’s spiking again and can’t call for us.” Images of my beautiful girl curled on the bathroom floor, clutching her cramping stomach flood my addled brain.
Silas hesitates for one second before turning the handle. Locked. My alpha nearly slams against my ribs when the door doesn’t budge.
“Little bird,” Silas calls out. “Unless you say no, I’m coming in. Five, four…”
He counts too slowly. I count faster in my head. We reach one at different times.
Just as he shifts his weight to strike the door, the latch clicks.