“Mate,” he moans; then in a lower tone, “Johanna.”
Our first time for this. I didn’t get near Nathan’s cock during Max’s last heat, despite the temptation. That was all about Max and getting him through. I haven’t sucked any cock except Max’s for a long time—but the basics don’t change.
And Nathan tastes good, just like he smells. I hold the base, fingers pressing against the slow swelling knot, while I lick stripes up and down. A bead of pre-cum glistens at the top, beckoning me.
Distract him, Dan told me.
I swallow him whole.
Thiskind of distraction, we’ll both enjoy.
Chapter 36
Choices
CORIN
No sense yellinghurry upwhen Dan’s already driving so fast, the zipzap’s protective shell rattles as much from speed as the bitter wind gusting along the street. He whisks around trucks stopped to unload, turns corners at speeds that have me gulping, and races a tram down the incline from the heights to the city proper. The safety harness pins me to the seat’s inadequate cushion, but I hold hard with one hand, anyway, as though that would keep me safe. The other grips my phone tight.
Little else I can do but shiver in the cold, despite my layers.
I can’t help Dan drive, can’t even navigate, until we get closer to home.
Can’t do anything for Johanna except listen as she makes Nathan say her name regularly. The way he says it keeps shifting—pleading, then snapping possessively, and now, moaning. Speculating about what she’s doing to distract him only fills me with dread, so I stop.
Helpless. Unable to advise when she first called for assistance. Incapable of contributing to our mad dash across the city.
Bitterness fills my mouth. Swallowing sends it down my throat to spread through my bloodstream. A hint comes from Dan’s scent, his midnight-forest odor turning frigid, no doubt from fear, but I don’t delude myself. Most of the bitter aroma is my own vinegary fear for Johanna, underscored by anger at my inability to help.
Reason argues that I never had an issue with ruts after my late teens, right after I presented. Even then, my brief flirtations with rut weren’t particularly strong—more like an added layer of desire, easily quenched by extra cold showers while I learned how to balance my needs and when to use scent blockers.
For all my youngest daughter’s struggles after she presented, she had a stronger desire to fight than fuck, making rut less of a concern than brawling. I’d sent her to a well-respected gym’s alpha resistance-training program to supplement her instruction from the Alpha Center and at school.
WhyshouldI know much about how to deal with ruts?
Arrogance, thy name is alpha. I’d assumed I didn’t need to know. Felt pride that Caity learned to control herself so easily and showed no danger of rut.
Too late now.
Yet Dan knew. When it was clear I was flailing, he’d stepped in seamlessly.
“How did you know what to do, what to tell her?” I ask.
He gives me a side-eyed glance. “I’ve been taking rut suppressors for over three decades.”
“But the medication keeps you from going into rut.” The wind whines and the tires squeal as we turn a corner. The harness prevents me going sideways but will probably leave bruises. “Why would you need to know?”
“In case it fails or I face a situation where it isn’t strong enough.” There’s an almost-bark-like edge to his reply. A bitter-tasting chill, above and beyond the cold wind, infuses his scent.
My mouth opens; then, I snap it shut and swallow my words. Tilt my head down and away, exposing my neck to him in instinctive apology.
“I also volunteer as a test subject for clinical trials of new medications, supposedly with fewer side effects, or to test lower doses, different combinations. Every single time, I have to go through another Rut Recognition and Awareness program.” Dan laughs, a short, sharp thing. “I’ve got enough certificates of completion to paper a wall.”
“Looks like they came in handy.” I hold the phone close to my ear, but Johanna’s stopped speaking. The only clear sounds coming through are low moans—probably Nathan’s, because they’re occasionally interspersed with his voice alternating between her name and “mate.”
“I took them seriously.” Dan sighs, gloved hands sliding along the steering wheel as he takes another sharp turn.
“Over three decades?” I shiver and squint through the fog spreading on the windows. We’re skirting downtown, and the houses are starting to look familiar.
