I click my tongue against my teeth, waiting for him to glare at the white minivan next to us before stretching back to swipe the scarf.
If I get in close, he might really wallop me. But it’s worth the risk.
He’s got his forehead pressed against the glass, steaming it up.
“Hey, Timber?” His neck cracks as he spins around, and in one quick move, I chuck the scarf over his head and shoot forward to tie it around the headrest. He’s building up for another snarl, but I yank it hard, and it tightens around his neck, choking him.
“That’s what you get if you don’t calm down.” I grin, even though his fury has cranked even higher.
I topple back into my seat just as the cars in front move forward, breathing out a sigh of relief.
It’s loose enough that he can still thrash around and roar so loudly it rings in my ears, but it’ll hold him down, for now.
“Get me out of this, you bastard. I’ll never fucking forgive you for this.”
“Wow, you really know where to hit me where it hurts,” I drawl. That’s one of the phrases that pops up in my nightmares when I’m really stressed, though it’s usually Ollie that says it.
I still need to calm him down, but the only thing he responded to was when I pressed on his cock.
So, the obvious answer is to stretch out a hand, grab his crotch, and squeeze.
“Okay, baby, let’s get you back to our omega.”
Ollie
Istuff Timber’s bedsheets in the washing machine in the basement, searching for the best excuse I can when I hear the worst thing ever above me.
My heart plunges as the garage door rattles and the grind of the wheels of Timber’s venom-green demon machine echoes from the other side as it drives inside.
Last time I snuck into Timber’s bed, I made the mistake of showering before I changed his sheets, but not this time. The bed’s all freshly made, though the room probably still reeks of perfume, but I left the door open to air it out.
I’ve already downedanothertwo heat suppressants, but I’ve totally lost faith in them. I might as well drink myself into a coma so I can avoid it.
Coming five times in a row until my pussy cried ‘mayday’ was the best way to stop my cramps. Not foolproof, and it was definitely going to bite me in the ass somehow—I could just feel it.
And I’m eight hundred percent sure that the alpha rolling into the garage are going to do the biting.
I can’t escape without going past him, and the perfume in the house is like a promo for my heat, so I need to think of a way to get out of here.
Why doesn’t Timber’s basement have windows? It’s almost like he doesn’t want omegas sneaking in and out of his house.
There was no way I could have cleaned the chaos in the kitchen and living room in this state anyway.
I swear I hear two car doors slam, one after the other, and someone shouting. Perfume is still streaming from me like an active volcano, and it’s the king of bad decisions to go anywhere near them, but I just need to make sure Timber is okay.
Sprinting up the stairs, I race to the security box by the garage door that constantly films it to make sure I’m right.
“Oh wow,” I murmur as I’m suddenly blasted with a WWE-level showdown.
Kane slams Timber against a set of shelves before Timber cracks his head back, nearly smashing Kane’s face if he hadn’t dodged at the last second. Timber’s mouth opens, and his muffled roar comes from the other side of the door.
There’s something red around Timber’s neck and arms, and Kane uses them to drag Timber to the door as he struggles all the way.
If Kane’s here, something has to be wrong, and from the way Timber’s fighting him and how the need in my core is bubbling like a fondue, I’ve got a good idea.
I should have locked the garage door, because as soon as Kane kicks it open and Timber snarls as he’s dragged through, it’s go time.
“Hey, sweetness,” Kane purrs, red-faced and panting. “Looks like we made it.”
