For the first time, it’s real. It applies to me. When I think about it, what do I really know about Branson other than that he’s an alpha and Jensen’s brother? Of course Jensen thinks he’s wonderful. He’s an omega, and Branson is his overprotective big brother. He’s the last person on Earth who would know what Branson is like in bed, or how he treats omegas in heat.
But even as I think these things, my feet carry me back to the living room so I can be where Branson is.
I feel his eyes on me as I fill a tall glass with crushed ice. I move carefully, slow and considered, as I try to control my movements. I’m doing it, controlling it, when a rush of heat hits me.
My back arches and my hips roll in a big, slow circle.
I do my best to compose myself and keep still.
When I pluck up the courage to look at Branson, I look straight into vague caramel eyes, unfocused but fixed on me. His mouth is slightly ajar. He looks a bit like a cartooncharacter who’s been hit hard on the head and stunned, but hasn’t collapsed yet.
I look away quickly, picking a shard of ice out of my glass and crunching it between my teeth for something to do that doesn’t involve twerking my ass at Branson. The ice lands on my tongue and melts quickly. Heavy footsteps pad toward me. I keep my eyes down until Branson is a few yards from me.
“Do you want me to look away?” he asks quietly. “If you want me to, I will. But, Lucy…” He puts a hand out as if he means to touch me, but thinks better of it and drops it to his side again. Something completely ridiculous that feels like misplaced disappointment flares and drops in my belly. “You should know that I think you’re beautiful. I think this is beautiful, and I thinkyou’rebeautiful like this.”
“You don’t think it’s funny?” I whisper, holding my glass in front of my lips to hide my mortification at asking the question.
“No. I don’t think it’s funny.” He turns his back to the kitchen counter and uses both hands to hoist himself onto it. He sits on the counter, feet swinging back and forth. “I meant what I said. You’re safe with me. I won’t let you suffer.” I snatch a ragged, relieved breath, but before I exhale, he continues, “I’ve helped omegas throughheats before. I know what’s required of me, and I’ll make sure you get it. I’ll—”
I don’t hear the rest. I don’t need to. A fury unlike anything I’ve ever known rips through me. I glare at him, breathless from heat and the strength of emotion that what he just said lit up in me.
Branson’s helped omegas through heats before?
How many?
When?
And where the hell do they live?
He must have at least a partially functioning IQ because he quickly pieces together what’s happened and holds out a hand to placate me. “It’s okay,” he says in a tone usually reserved for wild horses and rabid dogs. “You’re feeling possessive. I get it. Believe me, I get it. I—”
I turn on my heel and stomp to my room despite every cell in my body screaming at me to stay close to him.
How dare he have helped other omegas through their heat!How fucking dare he?I mean, yes, we’d hardly spoken ten words to each other before this dastardly getaway, but what of it? He should have known the day would come when I’d need him, and he should have waited for me.
Okay.
Wait.
Hang on.
No. That’s completelyinsane.
I’m a mess right now, and in large part it’s out of my control, but I can’t add irrational, crazy-pants-possessive-jealousy to the list of undignified things that are going to happen on this trip. I just can’t.
I give myself a good talking-to, and then go back to the living room and sit on the sofa next to Branson as though nothing happened.
After a while, I drift off, and when I wake, the light has changed. It’s grown dim and shadowy outside. I’m groggy and hotter than Hades, fresh out of a dream about being mercilessly railed. I’m a little disoriented to find my hole empty. A bit shaky from the shock of it, my ass twitching hungrily around nothing.
Waking up properly takes a while. At first, it feels like the dream is still happening. Or like I’m upset that it isn’t.
Details of the dream evaporate a little more each time I blink, and eventually, all I’m left with is a hollow ache between my legs. It’s horrible. I feel like I’ve been edged. Brought to the cusp of a shattering climax, only to be woken and find it wasn’t real.
I look around, wiping the corners of my mouth furtively as I search the living room for a big block of a man. A thin thread of panic pulls tight around my heart when I don’t see Branson immediately.
“Branson,” I whisper, determined to stay calm and keep my composure. I give him a split second to respond and then scream, “Branson!”
He comes bolting down the hall. “Are you okay?”
