I grab his wrist as I slip over the edge, my lock tightening down on him as unadulterated pleasure races through my body and steals my vision. I don’t mean to bite down, don’t even realize it’s what I’m doing as I try to process the aftershocks of the orgasm. Cole cries out, practically screams, and then he’s pulsing inside me, coming with me. The pleasure gets even stronger. I collapse against him, unable to stay upright under the onslaught of stimulation and sensation. He shakes under me.
Eventually, the pleasure slowly ebbs, and I cuddle closer into him, rubbing my cheek against the palm of his hand. He runs his hand up my back, tracing each knob of my spine with a feather-light caress. Amusement unfurls just under my sternum.
“What’s so funny?” I ask him.
“Just you,” he whispers. “How you cuddle like a cat after locking me. It’s adorable. I love it.”
I press tighter into him, breathing in his scent, soaking in the bliss that always comes after we lock. And then the reality of what I did, what it’s caused, sinks into me like shards of ice. I stiffen in his hold, but he doesn’t drop his arms. He only holds me tighter, keeping me pressed against him.
“Don’t,” he whispers against the crown of my head.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” I say. “I don’t know?—”
“Charlotte, stop.” His voice is hard, brooking no argument. “I could have pulled my hand away when I realized what you were going to do.”
“But bonds are something that should be talked about, not decided in the heat of the moment.”
Damn, I might actually be getting hysterical. He runs a thumb over my jaw and down my throat.
“The way birth control should be?” His voice is dry and full of humor. I sigh against his chest. “Really, Charlotte. Don’t panic. You can feel me now. You can feel how happy I am.”
I let my eyes flutter closed and focus on the foreign sensations in my chest. He’s right. Heishappy. Happy and amused and sated. Tension releases from my body, and I cuddle closer into him.
“This dress is beautiful, by the way.”
“I wore it to the gala,” I admit.
“Jesus, I’m lucky the Council actually picked me, then. Because you’re a goddess in this, Lottie.”
Warmth spreads in my chest from his compliment. I try to soak up all the touch, all the sensations that are in my chest that aren’t actually mine, like I’m an Omega starved for touch. The car slows just as my lock releases him.
He kisses my temple, and then helps adjust my dress. I ease his pants and scent blockers back into place, watching with hungry eyes as he redoes his belt and fixes his shirt. The watchand shirt nearly cover the new bite mark. He twines his fingers with mine just as the door unlocks.
“Let’s go see this musical,” he whispers.
Thirty-Five
COLE
“Omega,” Marcus murmurs against my ear, drawing me out of the dreamless sleep.
I turn toward him on instinct, swallowing back the dizziness that happens even with my eyes closed. His lips press against mine, sensing my desire through the bond. And then his nutmeg is surrounding me again, fresher than all the smells that surround me in my nest. My skin tightens in a way that feels almost familiar, like a taste I can’t quite name. Marcus hums.
“Is your heat close?” he whispers against my lips. “There’s a new edge to your scent I haven’t smelled before.”
I think back to when I had one last. Four months ago? That sounds right.
But Dr. Wales said that coming off the suppressors might trigger one, so maybe I am on the precipice of one right now. It would explain why no amount of their scents seem to satisfy me anymore.
“I might be,” I say, slowly opening my eyes. “The gaps aren’t always consistent.”
Which isn’t untrue. Heats typically happen every six months if no interventions happen—either to trigger one or to stop one. But just like everything, every Omega has a different window that’s more of their normal. Some have more variation than others. Mine have always had wider gaps between them, sometimes coming on almost a month earlier than the typical six month window.
“All right.” He runs a thumb across my jaw, marking me with his scent again. “You want anything specific to happen if that’s what this is?”
What I want is for the three of them to fuck me into this mattress until there’s no possible way their scents could be stripped from it and their bruises mark every single inch of my body. But that’s not what I’m allowed to have. Not yet, anyway. So I tell him what Dr. Wales said has to happen this time.
“I… I have a sedative in my bathroom drawer.”
