Chapter Eight
Alison shivered from the orgasm that had rushed through her on the heels of waking. Something warm and sticky was between her thighs, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t all from her…
Her knuckles ached and her shoulder burned, and it took another moment to realize the reasons—she’d dug her nails into Trent’s back, and he’d bitten her shoulder.
A claiming bite. Hell, many bonded mates never did that, and yet now she had a wound on her shoulder from it. The mark would heal, but it would never go away entirely. There would always be a scar from it, as though her body knew to hold on to it, to cherish it.
Trent released her shoulder, the action drawing a whimper from her and another rolling wave of need that coursed through her. “Fuck,” he said, his rough voice deeper than usual. He drew back, and the action caused her to look down and realize the rest.
He’d worn boxers to bed, but at some point during the long hours, she and Trent had ended up tangled together. His cock, which was hot and softening, was tucked between her legs, and that warm stickiness?
His cum sat on her thighs, which filled in the rest of the story.
Her faceless lover from her dream? The mind-blowing orgasm she’d had while asleep? Trent had rutted against her until they’d both gotten off.
“You going to freak out?” he asked.
Alison ran her tongue along her bottom lip, and the soreness there told her she’d chewed on it in her sleep. “I don’t freak out.”
“I didn’t plan this.” He extracted himself from the bed with a wince, as though the wetness from his cum was unpleasant.
Try having it all over your thighs.
Alison rolled over and put her feet to the floor, his scent clouding her head. Worse, each movement made another shiver run through her sensitive body. She stared down at the white on her thighs, her chest uneasy. It was so much alpha around her, and worse, she’d already reacted to it.
The wound on her shoulder burned, and she refused to look at it. It felt like a chain, like a tighter binding than the collar or cuffs.
A towel hit her lap, startling her back to the moment.
Trent nodded, then turned to look at the bed, as if deciding if he needed to change the sheets. It drew her attention to the scratches on his back. Scratches Alison had put there, a need that had terrified her resulting in them.
She wiped her thighs, though she didn’t do a thorough job. Just enough to get the obvious streaks. As soon as she’d done it, she got to her feet, needing to get out of the room. It smelled like sex, and she hadn’t even had sex.
“You’re supposed to sleep here,” he said, though his words lacked firmness.
“I feel like we’ve sort of wrapped up the sleeping thing.”
He twisted his hand to peer at his watch. “It’s three-twenty. You aren’t ready to get up.”
“If it means I don’t have to get back in that bed? Sure, I’ll get up now.”
He offered a low growl, as though backed into a corner.
“At least let me look at your shoulder.” When he reached for her, Alison jerked backward.
He froze, his hand dangling in the air before lowering slowly.
“Right.” The word was full of a lot, but Alison was too close to the edge to decipher any of it.
“You’re not sleeping alone. Daniel or Kyle. Your choice.”
Alison wanted to argue, but more than that, she wanted to leave. The choice wasn’t a hard one, really. Daniel was sweet, but Kyle kept things nice and surface level.
“Kyle’s.”
Trent nodded back, but didn’t come closer, didn’t move, when he let Alison flee. She didn’t go to Kyle’s room right away, first going to the restroom. It gave her a moment to collect herself.
This was a stupid plan. Did I really think I could resist three alphas? This is why I’m never around them.
She went to Kyle’s door afterward, but as she lifted her hand to knock, it opened. Kyle stood there, his hair messy from sleep, the same smirk he always had on his lips. It tightened when his gaze landed on her shoulder, but didn’t slip away.
He probably thought she didn’t realize.
“Come on in.” He made space for her, and past him she spotted the bed, unmade and all together inviting.
On the nightstand sat an open first-aid kit, which meant Trent had already spoken to Kyle. At least she wouldn’t need to repeat the story.
Kyle set a hand on her lower back, leading her to the bed. When she sat, he picked up a packet from the kit. He tore it open, then pulled the small cloth out. A grip on her chin set off those old feelings, and she yanked back.
“Easy, sugar,” he whispered and released her. “Tilt your head for me, would you?”
Alison shuddered out a breath but did as he asked. She hissed at the first pass of the alcohol pad.
“Sorry, but we should clean this,” he explained. “The less of his saliva in the wound, the less it will scar.”
“Well then, scrub it raw,” she whispered.
He huffed a soft laugh, though there was still an edge to it. He covered the wound with gauze, then took a wipe from the packet beside the kit.
It was then she looked at her thighs and heat covered her cheeks.
She hadn’t cleaned up that well, and it was obvious from the stickiness still there.
Getting into a man’s bed with another man’s cum on her thighs wasn’t the sort of thing she’d done before, and certainly didn’t make her feel all that good.
She expected Kyle to hand her the wipe, but instead, he worked to clean her himself. He was thorough and careful, not showing a bit of disgust or discomfort. He slid the cold wipe along her skin, catching each tacky area, even spreading her legs and dropping to his knees to clean her inner thighs.
How the hell can this turn me on again? Wasn’t earlier enough?
Yet, there she was, as though she hadn’t learned her lesson from the last time.
Worse, Kyle inhaled once, released a low groan—one that sounded as though he wanted things and was disappointed to not get to have them—before he finished and took the kit and trash into the bathroom, leaving her alone.
Alison’s collar and cuffs seemed awfully heavy at that moment, the gauze made her shoulder itch and she had no idea how to recalibrate her body.
She could have been truly mad if Trent had pushed a boundary on purpose, if he’d forced her into something. Instead, as proven by her own orgasm, she’d been a willing participant in their little dream-session.
What the hell am I supposed to do with that?
“Stop thinking so much and lie down.” Kyle’s voice came a second before the light in the room clicked off.
He left the bathroom one on, as though he knew she might need it.
The bed dipped beneath his weight as he settled in, and Alison did the same, her back to him and the large distance between them evidence of just how little she trusted him.
Him? What a joke. Clearly, I can’t trust myself, either.
* * * *
Daniel let out a low growl as he stared at Trent. The man wouldn’t even look at him.
Alison was up in the shower, which meant Daniel hadn’t gotten to see her shoulder, but Kyle had explained it well enough.
“You marked her?”
Trent’s shoulders went rigid, as though the very words bothered him.
Good. He should feel guilty.
“Not on purpose.” Trent stirred his coffee, not facing Daniel.
“What the hell does that mean? You agreed to the rules! Hell, you made them.”
Trent finally turned, leaning his back against the kitchen counter. “To be fair, I didn’t kiss her.” His deadpan delivery only drove Daniel’s temper more.
“Don’t play that game with me. What the hell were you thinking?”
Finally, Trent sighed, his shoulders falling. “I wasn’t thinking, okay? I was fucking asleep. So was she. Neither of us made some big plan about this. As it turns out, when you’re horny and have an omega in your bed, sometimes shit happens.”
Daniel snorted, crossing his arms. “Shit didn’t happen. We aren’t talking about a wet dream here. You bit her. You have never done that before to any woman.”
“I know, and I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say. I didn’t plan it, I don’t know why it fucking happened, and I never wanted to bite her in the first place. Yell at me all you fucking want, I’ve already been kicking my own ass over it all morning.”
The misery on Trent’s face was the only reason Daniel managed to wrangle his frustration at all.
Trent looked about as happy about it as Daniel felt.
A claiming bite…something rare that only happened between mates, and often not even then.
It was some holdover from a more primal side of alphas, something most alphas had even shed over the millennia of evolution they’d gone through.
Why did it surprise him that if any of them had that drive still, it would be Trent?
“This is exactly why you aren’t with the FBI anymore,” Daniel snapped.
Trent narrowed his eyes at that. “Are you really going there? Don’t try and turn this into some proof of shit.” Trent’s voice was low, a warning there that Daniel didn’t mind trampling over.
“Isn’t it? Alison has a claiming bite on her.
Forget how fucked up that is for her, how complicated it makes any of us working together, but how the hell do we explain that to the person who is supposed to come and examine her?
Lot harder to pass her off as merchandise when your claiming bite is on her, isn’t it? ”
Trent’s jaw popped, and for a minute, Daniel thought the other alpha might sail across the kitchen.
It wouldn’t be the first time he and Trent had gone head-to-head. Neither of them were hotheads, yet they seemed to be the only ones to end up fighting. Maybe they were too different—or too alike—but it was always them.
“Always worried only about the job, aren’t you? Somethings never do change.” Trent shook his head and left the kitchen, coffee in hand, steps angry and loud.
“Look at that, we’re back to normal.” Kyle’s voice was breezy as he came in, letting Daniel know the bastard had listened to everything.
Which wasn’t shocking, because Kyle was nosy.