CHAPTER FOURTEEN - BIRDIE
I wear Axel’s sweat all the way back to the attic.
As I climb the stairs, I wrap my arms around myself, even though I’m not cold.
If anything, my skin feels hot to the touch, and I grimace.
It would be just my luck to get the flu right as I have to trudge down a frozen mountain.
Although, I’m not completely delusional.
The snow storm might have eased, but the only way I’m getting out of here in my current state is in the pack’s truck.
And while Axel has offered to take me, I’m not about to trust him with my one chance at escape.
What if he knows about Hog’s scent match trap and approves of it?
Or worse still, what if he’s in on Reeves’ experiment and he has orders to turn me over to his goons if I try to escape?
It wouldn’t be the first time that an alpha offered to help, only to betray me at the point of no return.
I might be paranoid, but the pack’s motives are too murky to ignore.
Better to take the hard road than to end up back in Reeves’ hands.
Which gives me a window of two days to make my move before the pack makes theirs.
I enter the attic and stop abruptly as I find Colt sitting on the edge of the bed. My gaze flicks straight to the pillowcase of supplies propped against the nightstand, but his focus is on the three portraits lined up against the wall.
“I thought they were in storage with the rest of his things,” he says in a husky voice. “Where did you find them?”
As I cross the room, I point to the wardrobe and he nods, but his eyes are glassy as they lift to mine. Grief, without the filter of booze, and it pinches a nerve I didn’t know I had in my heart. “You think we’ll ever be that happy again?”
My first instinct is to reassure him. To tell him that he’ll recover, even if his face never shines quite as brightly again.
But what the fuck do I know about healing and happiness? If you have something that good, that pure, then you must be a goddamn idiot for losing it in the first place… Right?
I shrug instead, and he runs his fingers over the sore spot on his scalp, blowing out a breath.
“Yeah. Me too.” His gaze wanders around the room and then snaps back to me, his lips slowly curling up.
“But at least you’re here now, huh? Makes breathing almost bearable when you’re in the room, Baggage. ”
I don’t see how, unless the drugs Reeves pumped into my bloodstream are still seeping out of my pores. Maybe that’s what the asshole meant by the healing powers of an omega.
I’m smirking at the idea when Colt wraps his fingers around my wrist and tugs me down beside him.
We end up with one of my thighs flung over his, his body twisted to give me his full attention.
He’s way too close, but for some reason I don’t elbow him in the face.
Maybe it’s the scent rising off him, as intoxicating as sunshine poured over dark chocolate, or maybe it’s that devilish look in his eyes.
Colt is clearly in the mood for mayhem, and there’s something about that dark energy that makes my heart beat faster against my ribs.
“How come you smell like the guys when you’re wearing my clothes?” His finger traces the collar of my borrowed sweatshirt, his eyes drooping to half-mast. “Better be careful, Baggage, or we might just sneak under your skin.”
They’ll have to get past my armor first, but for a moment I think of the hurt in Hog’s eyes right before he left this room.
Maybe he just expected me to fall into bed, to offer up my throat because his scent does stupid things to my brain.
But Colt smells pretty amazing, too, and he’s not trying to twist me into some kind of helpless scent slave.
If anything, he just wants a little reminder of my dead brother, and I find myself suddenly curious about how that would work.
If I don’t look like Charlie, or smell like him, then what kind of comfort can he take from me?
And more importantly, what kind of comfort can I take from him?
His tongue touches the edge of his bottom lip and a chaotic thought pops into my head. Maybe I should test the doctor’s theory on alpha lubrication.
Heat suddenly pulses through me, taking me by surprise.
Huh. I want Colt, even if I don’t trust a word that comes out of his pretty mouth.
Maybe I’m just a superficial asshole, because even in his rumpled clothes, Colt’s physical appeal is impossible to ignore.
He’s lean but perfectly muscled, his shoulders almost too broad for his frame.
Not that he’s my type, exactly, but then my type just tried to manipulate me into a scent match.
Whereas Colt… I’m pretty sure he’s only interested in manipulating his way into a blowjob. How did he put it again? I want you down on your knees, those pouty lips wrapped around my cock…
Something harsh and prickly pinches the back of my brain, but I push it aside. I’m looking for comfort now, not guilt. If I get a chance to stop the throbbing in my throat for a few precious minutes, then why shouldn’t I take it?
Although, the alpha lubrication theory could just be another twisted trick, since Reeves takes so much pleasure in getting my designation to betray itself.
Best case scenario, I cozy up to an alpha and get my voice back for my escape.
Of course, the worst-case scenario is that his release triggers my speech inhibitor, and I literally choke to death on Colt’s cock…
I’m still picturing that disturbing scene when Colt’s hand slides under the bottom of my sweatshirt. The rough pads of his fingers trail over my stomach, teasing the sensitive skin above my navel. “Is this okay, Baggage?”
I don’t have an issue with my body, other than the fact it can betray me with a single alpha bark.
It’s weaker than I need it to be, but I’m not ashamed of the scars it bears.
Every single one of them was someone else’s choice, and I won’t ever feel smaller because of an alpha’s need to beat me down.
I nod and he makes a sound in his throat that prickles my skin and brings a flush of heat to that empty place between my thighs.
I squirm, and his mouth curls up, satisfaction deepening his scent.
“I’ve still got your bruise, you know,” he goes in, drawing a teasing circle around my navel.
“I’m like a delicate piece of fruit. And store policy says you can’t just toss me back on the pile once you’ve squeezed your fingerprints into me. ”
I roll my eyes and get mischief sparkles in return.
He swirls his fingers lower, playing along the waistband of my sweats.
“Gotta say, your perfume is kinda addicting, Omega. Last night I had a dream. I was licking warm caramel off a spoon, and when I woke up, I had a hand around my cock and your name on my lips.”
It’s probably bullshit made up on the spot to disarm me, but try telling my hormones that. A trickle of slick dampens my thighs and his nostrils flare, his fingers dipping below the band. I wait for my body to tense up, but his scent is like a drug, and my hips lift to greet his wandering touch.
“Damn, Baggage!” he hisses, running a finger lightly over my wet seam. “Is all this sweet wetness for me?”
There’s a hint of wonder beneath his teasing, but as our gazes catch, his wicked smirk dims and his finger retreats an inch. “Are you really cool with this? I know you can’t consent out loud, but just shake your head if I’m overstepping here…”
I scowl at him, wondering what it is exactly about me that makes these blunt, callous soldiers hesitate when they’re so close to taking what they want. Is it the scars? The dead brother connection? Or is there something about me that just screams broken omega who’s not worth the effort?
“Damn, don’t look at me like that,” he mutters, then leans forward, but instead of sliding his finger all the way inside me, his other hand cups my cheek.
I expect him to crack another joke, but he tilts his head and his lips brush mine, feather light.
It’s such a gentle kiss, my stomach gives a weird swoop, and I have to stop myself from squirming closer.
Colt pulls back just enough to look into my eyes. “This okay?”
I nod and, with a grin, he presses his mouth back against mine.
His tongue doesn’t hesitate to taste my lips this time, and I bite back a groan as his sunshine scent fills my senses.
He licks and nibbles until our tongues touch, and then we’re suddenly both clawing at each other, all tenderness consumed in a wave of want.
God, I don’t just want him, I need him.
I don’t know if he lifts me or I crawl over him, but I’m suddenly straddling his lap.
His hands drop to my hips, while his tongue dives into my mouth, plundering every inch.
Our breaths are catching in our chests, our hands sweeping over straining muscles.
He mutters something about burning his goddamn sweats and I almost laugh.
Because everywhere he touches me, my skin flares with raging heat.
As he rolls his hips up against mine, I grip his shoulders, my head spinning at the wave of sensations.
Our chests are plastered together, but we’re grinding on each other like we can’t get close enough.
The friction draws a moan to my lips, and another flush of slick dampens my thighs, soaking the swollen ridge of his cock with my need.
Colt tears his mouth from mine, his eyes wild as he stares up at me.
“Have some mercy, Omega. If you don’t stop moving, I’m gonna come like I just popped my first knot. ”
I give him a sly smile, and he groans as I twitch my hips, the scent of his pre-cum filling the air.
His thighs tremble under me, and I grab his bottom lip between my teeth, biting down hard enough to bruise.
He hisses, but his hands clutch me tighter, and I feel a thicker flush of warmth against my core.