Knox cleared his throat, lifting me to my feet without allowing any space to come between us. "We'll check the perimeter and then clean up. We still have a lot to talk about. Like what happens when you put a gun up to your head conjured or not."
"Technically not a gun," I pointed out, earning myself no points. That was okay. After what I'd put him through, I didn't deserve points. But at least I'd get to live to the day I did.
Chapter Twenty
Knox
I watched my half-angel omega sweat. His body stretched long before bending short, his slick skin glistening beneath the fluorescent lighting.
"Are you going to work out? Or watch me work out?" He grinned at my reflection in the mirror.
"Watch," I grunted.
My omega's gaze burned with desire.
We had about thirty minutes more before Hallie returned with Angus. She'd taken one look at the two of us and sent Jazz down to work out—she didn't seem surprised when I followed him.
I'd never forget thinking I'd never hold him again. Those seconds when I'd thought I'd lost him were moments I never wanted to repeat again. It had been worse than when Pierce had died. Worse than finding out our pack had been destroyed.
Jazz was my omega. His safety landed squarely on my shoulders.
"Stop it," Jazz ordered, still looking at me through my reflection but with a different expression. "I'm here. I'm alive. We all are. We know what we need to do, who our enemy is. They don't know where we are thanks to your killing of their men. We're safe here. Thanks to a legal loophole that I'm fairly sure my mother somehow had a hand it, I'm a millionaire once the paperwork goes through after my father's funerals. We'll be able to fund the pack. These are all good things."
I grunted. Good was in the eye of the beholder. Getting to drive Walter Whitten's luxury SUV into the ocean had been good. Successfully staging his death had been great. Knowing why Jazz was able to do what he did, his ability to create illusions, his pregnancy—that was all good too, but that knowledge came with a tradeoff. My omega was being hunted. Other nephilim were in danger as well. And we had a common enemy, Portal Ventures. The jury was still out on how to explain the way Walter Whitten had met his end. It seemed like magic, but so much of this did.
No one wanted to believe Portal had the time and resources to send teams out to search until their target was found. Faust still believed it was his email that tipped them off. Even now, days later, he waited hand and foot on Jazz and Hallie, jumping to his feet at the slightest sigh or gasp.
"You're still thinking about it," Jazz said with a whine. He turned around and stalked to where I sat on the workout bench. "What happened is done, Knox. There's no reason to brood—about that anyway." He slipped between my legs, and I had to look up to see his face. "Come on, do the thing," he whispered, his voice dipping low enough I felt it stroke my dick.
I pretended to be annoyed.
"Come on," Jazz said, putting a thousand percent more whine into those two words. "Do the thing, Knox. You know you like it."
I rolled my eyes, but not out of actual irritation; this was our pattern. Jazz would suggest I do the thing, and I would pretend I didn't like it, but really, I enjoyed his sexual fantasy. Even if it was a tad cliché.
I gripped his hips, squeezing just hard enough to make him gasp. "You worked really hard out there, sport."
Jazz snorted but quickly fell into his role. His body relaxed, draping against me like I was the only thing keeping him at his feet. "Really, Coach? There isn't anything you think I could do to improve my performance?" He batted his doe eyes.
I cleared my throat, letting the sound drag just how he liked it and Jazz whimpered. His erection poked my stomach.
There wasn't a workout Jazz enjoyed more than when we played coach and eager athlete. "I'll do anything," he continued. "Anything you say will help me, Coach."
My lips couldn't help their upward stretch. This was silly, we were silly, and I loved it.
That was another thing Jazz's presence had brought back into my life, the ability to joke around and be playful.
I circled my arms around him and squeezed my biceps. Jazz groaned softly, rubbing his erection against me in a gentle, circular motion
"There's one thing that will help you out there," I said. "Your coach's dick."
Jazz dropped to his knees and reached for my waist. "Really? If you say so."
I smirked until Jazz pulled my cock free and stroked it softly.
"Your dick will really make me a better athlete?" he asked with mock innocence.
I nodded gravely.
"I guess if you say I should." He parted his lips and swallowed my length in one swoop. Not even he could keep up the forced timidity once he tasted my dick on his tongue. He moaned, burying his nose into the short hair of my groin.
"Very good. You will definitely run faster now." I buried my hands in his curls but let him keep his same pace.
"I need to jump higher too," Jazz said before doubling down, sucking so hard his cheeks hollowed like he was trying to draw the cum from my dick.
I felt too close to coming and looked away, but now I saw his reflection. Jazz's glorious ass stuck out, the sloping curve of his back creating the perfect trail to his crack.
"Fuck, your mouth feels like hea—" I swallowed the old saying. After hearing about Jazz's experience, it didn't feel like it meant the same thing. "Your mouth is perfect. Look at you, so good, so wet. Who owns this hole, Jazz?" I traced around his stretched lips.
"Mrm," Jazz said, unable to get the sound out around my cock while also refusing to stop sucking long enough to talk. He'd been fondling my balls but lifted his hand to point into my chest. You.
I slicked my fingers with the coconut oil—the twins either hadn't noticed or hadn't cared that someone else was using it—and slid my fingers down the tempting curve all the way down to his greedy pucker. It twitched when I brushed over his skin, spreading more of the slick liquid.
Jazz grabbed my hand without stopping and brought it down to cup his jaw. I accepted the silent invitation and brought my other hand to the other side of his face before letting my hips thrust forward.
Jazz's moan exploded down his body, and he shivered while opening his throat. I didn't want to come in his mouth but couldn't resist the opportunity to fuck his face. I didn't have to worry about going to hard or being too rough. Jazz loved it and often spurred me to lose more control. I'd never hurt him, but I'd also never take for granted that I'd found a man who loved being loved the only way I knew how. I didn't have to change, I just had to show him. My fingers continued their journey, probing his pucker as I stretched him out. I thrust forward, watching Jazz's throat bulge as he took me deeper. "So perfect, so good." Our eyes locked. His nostrils flared, his body sucking in air in the moments that he was able. "Your mouth was made for me, Jazz, made for my dick."
Jazz squealed, and the sound sent vibrations up my shaft.
"Made for my dick in your mouth, in your ass. All of your holes are mine, Jazz."
He pulled back, releasing my dick with a squelching pop. "I need you," he moaned, spinning around on his hands and knees to present his ass. "Please, alpha, I need you in me." He brought his head down to the mat, resting between his bent arms. His cheeks spread with the position, revealing the gaping hole, slick and glistening. Ready. Waiting.