It’s the quickest glance; the way his gaze drops to my mouth before flashing up to my eyes. The scent of morning rain and earthy dirt fill my senses as I stare up at him.
He has the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. Long, thick, dark eyelashes that I swear on any other man would look weird or feminine, but on Olly they somehow look both masculine and soft at the same time.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. He closes his eyes for a moment, pursing his lips. Then he opens his eyes and clears his throat, his gaze settling on my throat.
“We’ll start with your blood,” he says calmly. He nods to his office chair behind us. “Have a seat. I’ll get everything ready.”
I do as he asks without question. My feet dangle, not touching the floor. I watch as he moves about. He pops another button or two on his shirt, showcasing the expanse of his pale skin. The alphas all look similar. Tan skin, dark features. Jaws and muscles that could cut glass, but Olly…
There’s a sort of understated beauty to the beta. He’s smaller than an alpha, but bigger than me. His frame isn’t bulky, but lean. Wiry, almost. He moves like a gazelle through the lab, grabbing needles and bandages, a tourniquet, vials, syringes.
I watch with bated breath as he prepares the space next to where I sit. He wraps the tourniquet around my arm gingerly. Carefully.
Precisely.
Everything about Olly is precise,I realize. Controlled.
Maybe he needs that. Control.
“It’s been nearly twenty-four hours since your last suppressant, so I’m interested to see just how different your samples are, especially since you’ve, uh…bonded to an alpha.”
My blood pumps through the tight space, and I feel flush as I watch him ready the needle.
I focus my eyes on him, transfixed by his features.
Good lord, he is fucking hot.
“Doesthatmake you uncomfortable?” I ask.
“Huh?” He taps my veins with two fingers, and I nearly jump off the table, knowing just how those two fingers feel with my clit in between them.
He looks up at me in concern. “Are you okay?”
“I’m good,” I say with a blush.
“To answer your question,” he sighs, “Gage is a viable alpha.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” I say.
“I think you misunderstand,” he says. “He is a…good choice. Strong genes, smart. Loyal. He’ll protect you. Give you what you need.” His voice falters slightly before he adds, “It makes sense.”
He glances at me as if he wants to say more, but instead, shakes it off. “Like I said, a viable choice for an omega.” He taps my veins one more time, and I squirm, not at all from pain, but from the sheer memory of those fingers and the things they are capable of.
“Stay still, please.” He says the words methodically, and I find myself wanting nothing more than to listen. “Make a fist for me.”
I do as he asks without hesitation, and he gives me a soft smile.
“Good girl. Thank you.”
I never thought those two words would make me feel so…warm. Wet.
Good girl.It’s not the first time he’s said them, and I find the strangest desire to want to be good. For him. In so many ways I can’t even comprehend it.
As an omega, of course, I am designed to be enticing, to be alluring. To try and attract a viable, dominant alpha.
But something inside of me is greedy. It desires more than the alpha that has claimed me.
There is no desire to fight him.But there is desire.
