“Shit,” Grieves mutters, sounding torn.
On stage Florence’s expression cracks. The barest hint of emotion coming through, and it's at this point, I realize what this is. For her and for us.
A dance meant to be apas de deux, performed instead by a lone ballerina. Choreography that speaks of betrayal and forgiveness. Of goodbye.
This is her goodbye.
This is her letting us go.
This is her grieving what could have been if we were able to pick love over duty.
This is her saying ‘I forgive you for not picking me,’ in a language that is entirely Florence.
She lifts her arms and sinks to the ground, in a controlled descent, one leg folded under her. As the last notes fade, she drapes herself gracefully over her straightened leg, and goes still.
Silence stretches, then the room bursts with applause. Members of the crew clapping and whistling for her. She stays where she is for a moment longer, shoulders moving with eachinhale. When she lifts her head, there’s moisture on her cheeks, but her expression is calm.
I unclench my fists, aware I’ve been holding them tight on my knees. She limps as she leaves the stage, barely noticeable unless you’re looking for it. I am. We are.
When she reaches the edge, she glances back once. Just a brief look toward us—toward me—and the strangest feeling settles in my chest: not pride, not pity, something closer to awe, and a sharp dose of guilt combined with grief.
And a deep gnawing possessiveness that makes my alpha demand I go to her. Claim her. Knot her. Make her mine by sinking my teeth in her pretty, graceful neck. That I take away the hurt she’s feeling, the pain. That I make all of this right, by just taking her. Taking what is mine.
But I can’t do that.
I knew there would be limitations, strings and duties attached to being in this pack. For some reason it didn’t occur to me that this would be one. Not until it was too damn late.
The rest of the talent show passes in a blur. I hardly note what the other omegas do, my mind too focused on the problem of my omega. Of my happiness and hers. Of my pack's happiness.
I have no doubt that Florence is the key to it. I can feel it in my bones. Surely there’s some way, some chance for us to actually have her. To keep her. Surely, if we all put our heads together, we can figure it out. I can figure it out.
But by the time we’re judging the omegas, giving out scores, I’m no closer to having a solution. I don’t have one when we settle to eat dinner. Or when we have a chat session after. I don’t see a way through for us, by the time I retire to my room in the pack suite.
All I know is I want her. I need her.
But I don’t think I’ll be able to have her.
Not the way I crave.
Writhing under me, taking my knot, letting me fill her up with my cum as I sink my teeth into her pretty little neck.
Yes, my alpha hisses.That.
I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t.
It’s so fucking wrong. But my dick has been hard since Florence took the stage, since I watched her lithe body bend and arch, since I couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to have that same body under me, arching as I thrust into her tight heat.
Gritting my teeth, I grab my phone and pull up a browser. A quick search later and I have a selection of videos to choose from. All of them are of my girl. I click on the first one, and there she is, body leaner, muscles tighter, breasts and ass smaller, but still fucking beautiful.
I watch as she dances on the screen, even more fluidly than she did earlier today. Beautiful.
My hand finds its way to my aching cock, my eyes never leaving the screen as she dances across it. My mind imagining her under me, over me, around me.
Her eyes are determined, her smile positively beaming. My killer. Sunshine.
I stroke myself harder, faster, breath coming more ragged. Ever step, ever leap my girl makes across the stage serves to ratchet up my pleasure, a litany of filthy fucking things I want to do to her running through my head.
Fuck her. Knot her. Choke her on my dick. Come all over those tits, that sunshiny smile, mark her as fucking mine. Wrap that honey gold hair around my fist while she’s on her hands and knees, presenting for me. For us. Her alphas. Lick up all her slick and make her gush in my mouth.
