ChapterForty
Ace
Harper lets out an oomph as she crashes down to the floor, my punch catching her in the stomach.
“Shit!” My heart jumps into my throat and I rush forward. She’s already pulling herself up, eyes blazing with determination as she backs away from me.
“Again.”
Demanding little omega. Her kitten-clawed attitude makes me want to bite. Preferably without any clothes on.
I hold up a hand to stop her before she tries to dropkick me.
“Sweetheart, give me a second. I literally just punched you in the stomach.”Ineed a fucking second. Trying to teach Harper self-defense is harder than I thought it would be.
Having Harper here, her delicately spiced scent filling the room, is playing fucking havoc on my instincts. I want to push her down to the mat and cover her, sliding my hand down to feel the slick between her thighs. My knot is pulsing, uncomfortably thick in my workout sweats. It goes against every instinct I have to put her in any position where she has to defend herself. Devlin came to our first session, and I kicked him out after ten minutes. I thought he was going to rip my throat out.
Her eyes, deep pools of amber in the afternoon light, darken even more and I scent honey on my tongue. Our girl’s getting wound up.
Scoffing at me, she says, “Don’t be such a baby. You barely touched me.” I bite back a growl, loving how she’s opened up enough to play with us like this. She tries to rush me again and wobbles, overestimating her steps. I easily hook her ankle as she careens past me and flip us both down, cushioning her fall with my body. She lands with her knees astride my hips, plump lips pursed in a shocked ‘o’.
I smirk at her. “I win. What do I get?”
I thrust my hips up, groaning as my knot swells, begging to be locked into her honeyed warmth. Harper shudders and her eyes roll back slightly as her hips undulate. She’s a fucking goddess, hair blazing down her back in a tight braid, face raised to the sunshine. She’s starting to fill out with the help of some proper meals, and her curves make my mouth water. I want to worship at her goddamned temple. Lay everything I have at her feet in sacrifice.
The last few weeks have been… blissful. We closed the world out and spent time getting to know each other properly. It was fucking hard at first. Like really awkward family therapy. But we talked it out. Harper walked us through everything she’d heard that night, and we showed her the wooden cross that the compound had sent. My fists clench as I remember the look on her face when she saw it. Like it was her worst nightmare come to life.
So we handed her an axe and helped her burn it to fucking cinders in the garden.
Watching her then as the firelight shimmered in her eyes – it was like we’d handed her something precious. A weight lifted off her shoulders.
She told us how worried she was about artificial heats. Now that we know, we’ll be even more careful with our words in future. Harper has enough worries, without that one eating at her as well.
Talking of worries… I reach up and push back a lock of damp hair from her forehead. Seeing the expression on my face, she grimaces.
“It’s not time yet,” she argues. The soft whine in her voice makes me pull her hips down, and we both moan as I thrust into her softness.
“It is,” I croak. Clearing my voice, I sit up, pulling her to me for a deep kiss with my hand locked around the back of her neck. Breaking away, I push our foreheads together, breathing in her scent. Letting it ground me.
Because tonight is the gala, and it’s going to be fucking horrendous. Fear twists in my stomach at the thought of Harper being anywhere near the board members of the Omega Compound.
“We don’t have to, little omega,” I whisper.
“Yes, we do,” she whispers back to me. Her voice shakes slightly, and I run my hands up and down her back in firm strokes until she softens.
I know why we’re going. But I don’t fucking like it.
* * *
We all clearly feel the same. We’re all dressed and waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Tension drenches the walls with our scents, sharp and acidic. Rogue is pacing, Devlin is casually sliding so many weapons into place that I’m not sure how he’s even going to walk, and Gabe is stressing.
“I should go and help her,” he starts, and I grab his hand.
“No. She said she wanted to do it.”
His hand feels warm in mine and my fingers gently trace his callouses. I’ve missed these hands so much over the past few months. He might be a little more scarred, but my Gabe is definitely coming back. And it’s all down to our little omega.
Rogue turns to face the staircase and we all follow suit.
