The way he said it—like a fact, like something already decided—sent another pulse of slick soaking through the borrowed pants. My cock twitched traitorously at his tone, the same alpha command voice that had made me bare my throat earlier. My omega biology was staging a full-scale rebellion against my conscious mind, responding to his dominance with submission so complete it terrified me.
I jerked away from his touch, humiliation burning through me at my body’s complete betrayal. “I kept my end of the bargain,” I said, my voice wrecked and barely recognizable. Every word hurt to speak with my abused lips. “Now give me the suppressants before my biology decides to embarrass me any further.”
Something dark and predatory flickered in Stefano’s eyes as he rose to his feet. His movements were too controlled, like he was fighting his own instincts. “Matteo, get the meds.”
I caught the sharp look that passed between them—Matteo’s amber eyes assessing Stefano’s condition with the precision of someone monitoring a dangerous situation. When Matteo moved toward the tent, there was urgency in his steps that hadn’t been there before.
Oh shit. Are they going into rut? Please tell me three rut-drunk dominant alphas aren’t about to be added to my list of problems. Because my day really can’t get worse.
I sat there trying to gather the shattered pieces of my dignity. My lips still throbbed from Stefano’s brutal kisses, swollen and tender, and I couldn’t stop running my tongue over them. Eachtouch sent sparks racing through my nervous system, my body remembering every place his mouth had claimed.
Marco shifted closer, and I caught the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides, like he was fighting the urge to reach for me. His pupils were dilated too, nostrils flaring as he breathed in my scent.
Great. The whole alpha pack is losing their shit. This is exactly what I needed—three barely controlled predators and one omega whose body thinks we’re halfway to mating. What could possibly go wrong?
“Here,” Matteo returned with a small case, but his movements were sharper now, more focused. He extracted what looked like an auto-injector pen, but I noticed him palm a second one. “Military grade. One dose should be enough to block the heat progression.”
“I can do it myself,” I insisted, reaching for the injector with hands that betrayed me by shaking. The thought of any of them getting close to me with a needle was unbearable when my skin still felt like it was on fire from Stefano’s touch.
“No,” Stefano said, his voice rougher than before. When he took the injector from Matteo, I caught the way his hand trembled slightly—barely perceptible, but there. “I don’t trust your coordination right now.”
Right, because his coordination is so stellar when he looks like he wants to devour me whole. Pot, meet kettle. Though to be fair, my hands are shaking like I’m operating a jackhammer.
“Fine,” I bit out, turning my head away and rolling up my sleeve. “Just make it quick. And try not to enjoy my helplessness too much—though I know that’s basically your favorite hobby.”
Stefano’s hand wrapped around my arm, and even that simple contact sent electricity racing through my system. His skin was burning hot, almost feverish, and I could feel the fine tremor in his fingers as he positioned the injector.
The sharp sting as the suppressant entered my bloodstream was followed by cold spreading rapidly through my veins. But as the medication took effect, I realized with growing horror that it wasn’t stopping everything. The frantic edge of heat was diminishing, yes, but the arousal that had already been triggered remained. If anything, it felt more intense now, my body hyperaware of every alpha in my vicinity.
“The suppressant stops the heat progression,” Stefano explained, noticing my shifting discomfort. His voice was strained, like he was speaking through gritted teeth. “It doesn’t address… existing conditions.”
Existing conditions. Right. Because ‘your body is still screaming for alpha cock’ doesn’t sound very medical.
My cock was still painfully hard, pressed uncomfortably against the sweatpants, and slick still gathered between my thighs despite the medication. I was still aroused, still aching for release, and judging by the way all three alphas were looking at me, they could smell every bit of it.
“I need privacy,” I said, the words coming out more desperate than intended. “Just five minutes. Please.”
Because that’s realistic. ‘Excuse me, could you three barely controlled predators just look away while I frantically jerk off? I promise to be quiet about it.’
Understanding dawned in Stefano’s cobalt eyes, followed by something darker, hungrier. His nostrils flared again as he scented me, and I watched his control slip another notch.
“You want to take care of yourself,” he stated, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made my omega biology sit up and pay attention. “Relieve the pressure.”
seven
. . .
The clinical way he described what I needed was somehow more humiliating than crude language would have been. “Yes,” I admitted, beyond caring about pride. “Five minutes. Even prisoners get bathroom breaks without an audience of horny alphas.”
I caught Marco’s sharp intake of breath, saw the way his hands clenched into fists. Matteo’s expression had gone predatory, his amber eyes tracking my every movement like I was prey that might bolt.
Oh, fantastic. I just said ‘horny alphas’ to three dominant alphas who are clearly fighting their rut responses. My survival instincts are truly spectacular.
Another of those silent communications passed between them, but this time I could see the tension in their postures, the barely leashed violence in their movements. Whatever they were discussing, it was taking all their control to have a civilized conversation.
“No,” Stefano finally said, his voice soft but implacable. “We won’t be leaving you alone in this condition.”
“Then turn your backs,” I pleaded, desperation making me reckless. “Look away. Something. I can’t… I need…”
