Ethan’s jaw hardens, then he lowers his gaze. “General.”
I should feel some satisfaction that the other man has submitted, has acknowledged my superiority.
Yet it only leaves a feeling of distaste in my mouth.
The mating bond shudders and pushes up against my chest. Dense waves of fear bleed from the cord. My gut churns.
The omega…she is restless and afraid. She needs me. I stride to the exit and shove the doors open.
20
Lucy
The pain shudders over my skin. My shoulders jerk, and my chest thrusts up and off the floor.
My stomach twists, and I taste the acidic tang of bile. I want to scream, but all that emerges is a whimper.
I moan and curl in on myself.
There is this hunger gnawing at me. It churns at my guts, growing bigger by the second, as if it’s going to tear open my skin and rip out of me at any time. I am hungry, so hungry. And it’s not for food. I want him…need him…to fill me. To shove aside this hollowness that’s drawing me in, threatening to overwhelm me.
I want him throbbing inside me. The thought is so intense I almost imagine he is here, his massive body bent over me, his hard thighs pushing my legs apart, then him slamming into me, burying his brutal length in me, holding me down, folding his body around me, protecting me, taking me, cherishing me. The thought sends heat shooting through my veins. Sweat beads my brow.
My chest heaves.
My breasts ache.
Every part of me screams and begs for his touch.
I want to call out to him. I need to call out to him. The urge is so overwhelming that I feel every last coherent thought trickle out of me, leaving only the pure essence of the omega I am behind.
To be a receiver, to take, the breeder.
Isn’t that what my mother told me? And I had resisted it every step of the way. At least my father, for the short time he’d been around, had encouraged me to fight the urge.
He’d been the rare male alpha who’d actually not conformed to the stereotype. Who’d seemed to understand what it means to live a life where you are constantly living from one heat cycle to the other. Fighting it each time. Terrified of that hunger that sweeps in with the onset of each mating loop. Worried that this cycle is the one where you give in and seek out an alpha to break the cycle and put an end to the suffering. It was one-sided. So unjust. Nature had decreed that with the plummeting population count, omegas in the heat cycle would attract every single alpha in the square mile around them. Send enough into the rut that they would seek you out and try to take you.
Most of my omega friends had rejoiced with the onset of their cycles. Dreaming of the alpha who they would choose as their mate. Not me. I wanted to hold on to my independence for as long as I could. No alpha-hole male is going to break me. No, I am my own person and intend to be this way for as long as I can. I had opted to take fertilization blockers—fringe benefits of being royalty? I had the means to purchase the drugs from the black market—and subdue my hormones. I'd pushed my heat cycles further and further apart, and been able to spar with alphas without attracting their attention.
I thought it was working…until I had sensed him and my true nature had come roaring out.
Another white-hot cycle of pain rips through me and catches in my throat. I don’t have the energy to scream to try to relieve some of that burning pressure.
My womb cramps, and the fluid begs to be secreted.
All it needs is an alpha’s purr, his scent to draw it out and satisfy this hunger that demands his touch. Where the hell is he when I need him? I bang the side of my head against the floor in the hope of relieving some of the pain, or at least to hurt some other part of me so as to distract me from the core source of pain. Inside me.
Deep inside me.
In the very center of my being.
The sound of footsteps grows closer. Am I imagining it? A faint rumble of voices, then the air from the corridor flows over my flushed forehead, then the door slams shut.
I scent him first.
That spice of burned pinewood seeps through the air. My mouth waters. Or maybe it’s just that I am thirsty?
The pace of the footsteps increases, then I feel him kneel down next to me.
I expect him to berate me, to perhaps hit me for messing up his space or maybe slide me on my back and take me…which is what I want, damn it!
Tears prick the backs of my closed eyelids, and I let them trickle down my cheeks.
I couldn’t stop it if I wanted to.
I want him to fuck me, to take me mercilessly and put an end to the dense, cloying pain that thuds through my guts, that fills my head, pounds at my temples. I just want it gone.
I open my mouth to ask him to do just that, while a part of me cringes at the shame of it. This is my sworn enemy—he’d taken me against my will, and now I want him to do it again. And again.
I try to move my limbs but only manage a slight jerk of my hands.
He seems to understand, though, for his arms come around me and scoop me up.
Every muscle in my body tenses.
I am sure he is going to fuck me when I am at my weakest.
When I need him the most. When I don’t really want him, but my body is not going to cooperate with my will.
I want…to get the hell out of here.
I want...to turn back time to when I’d met Kayden, and tell him I do not agree to his plan.
I want…the feel of the alpha’s arms around me, cradling me closer, his lips sliding over my fevered forehead as he walks into the bathroom holding me.
The sound of running water fills the space. It splashes over my face and I gasp. It's cold. Too cold. Goosebumps pop on my skin. My shoulders quiver. I gulp, and the breath catches in my throat. I open my mouth, and water slides in. I gurgle and shove at the wall of muscle at my back.
“Shh.”
Has he actually placed his chin on my head? Is he actually being this gentle with me? I feel the purr vibrate up his chest as he holds me flush against him. Instantly, my muscles unwind.
My shoulders shudder.
It feels like every part of me is reacting to him, tuning in to him. Drawing in every last cadence of that purr that rolls over me, sinks into my blood, uncoiling that tension that grips my flesh.
My shoulders slump, my knees go weak, and I would have fallen, except his arm is around my waist, propping me up.
The water is no longer cold.
It seems to hit my fevered skin and to absorb some of the heat before it flows away. The throbbing in my forehead dulls.
All through it, he keeps purring— a low, deep, comforting sound that coils around me, soothing away more of my aches, trembling down my spine, down the backs of my thighs.
I am floating; my limbs feel so heavy. My eyelids feel like they are weighed down. I should protest and tell him he can’t manipulate my body like this. He has no right.
My muscles tense again.
My hands twitch as I try to raise them. I fold my other arm above my chest, place my mouth next to his ear, and allow another husky purr to wind around me.
He pulls me back against that solid wall of his chest. My head rolls back, and I let sleep pull me down.
When I awake next the room is dark.
I feel the soft sheets under my cheek; something silken covers me. My insides twist, but this time it is something else…a different kind of hunger. My limbs feel too weak, but I force myself to open my eyes.