Reading it, I feel a mix of disappointment and satisfaction.
A denial? Sure. A smokescreen.
But even if the video disappeared and the posts stopped getting promoted by the algorithm, the issue still reached the public. I’m pretty sure Sidorov got a call from the oversight board, maybe even from Blue Lowen himself.
One thing is for sure, the enemies of Beta Activation will not let an opportunity like this slip by.
Salt wakes up shortly after, barely fifteen minutes before breakfast. He looks delicious, hair tousled, a kind of heat-typical glow hovering around him. I watch him get dressed, and when he leans down to pick up his boxers, I catch a small glimpse of his pink star, swollen still, looking soft and tasty…
Oh, wow… something murmurs inside my head. If only I could caress it with my tongue again…
But we’re in too much of a hurry to give this little star a proper inspection; our wristbands start going crazy.
Salt seems to be finally fully aware of his odd ‘beta heat’ state and goes to the bathroom to use anti-pheromonal deodorant, which I notice he took from my stuff. Obviously it’s a good idea. The other alphas would not take the scent of ongoing heat lightly.
There’s something I manage to do before we go, though.
When he pauses briefly in front of the mirror to run his fingers through his long black and blue strands one last time before leaving, I stop right behind him and lazily brush my finger along his waist, just above the waistband of his jeans. I catch a glimpse of bare skin where his tank top has ridden up. A shiver runs through Salt’s body. He turns to me abruptly, grabs me, pulls me in, and our mouths meet just before our bands start beeping again, summoning us to breakfast. In any case, his reaction is unexpected and hot, and makes me… well, happy? Should I dare to feel this?
We head toward the dining hall, and along the way I wrestle with myself until finally I think:screw it.
As we step onto the promenade, I take Salt’s hand.
His eyes meet mine.
He doesn’t pull away, even though his hand is a bit slack in my grip. I know he’s uncomfortable. He’s seemingly not that into romantic or tender gestures. I can feel it from him, like he resists the warm energy behind it, filtering out everything except the sexual part. But I need this. I need something more before everything comes crashing down on us. And I know it will, I just have this dreadful feeling.
As we walk, I take it all in, making peace with the fact that I want more than sex.
My eyes catch his gaze, and I smile at him, and he flushes.
Oh, dear Fate. I want his strangely timid, lowered gaze. I want the way he lets me kiss him endlessly, even though he’s kind of rebellious about it too, low-key resisting yet still strangely hungry for more. I want the smirks tugging at the corners of his lips, his peculiar mix of sass and vulnerability, his… everything. I just want him.
Something inside me strains against its leash, reaching for my beta.
Am I somewhat starting to fall for him? Or is it just a good fuck talking?
We enter the corridor leading to the dining hall.
A second before we step through the doors leading inside, I grab his wrist. The move is so quick his body jerks around, and I pin him to the wall.
Salt lets out a sharp gasp of surprise as I hold him there, pressing closer, leaning toward his neck gland.
"Ti bramu, Salt, in tanti maneri; vogghiu… cchiù di tia ca sulu sessu. Vogghiu nuatri! Nuatri e u nostru avveniri…"(I desire you, Salt, in so many ways; I want… more than just sex with you. I want us! Us and our future)
Then I decide to do it. Putting more tenderness into it than I probably should, I lean in and press a soft, gentle kiss to his temple. I feel him stiffen right away, like I’ve crossed some kind of invisible line. There’s a hint of uncertainty in him, some kind of internal struggle.
He murmurs under his breath, like he’s trying to shift the energy between us as quickly as possible.
"I don’t understand a word, but it sounds… nice. Italian is like a melody."
"It’s Sicilian."
Salt lets out a huff. "Sounds Italian to me. Anyway, you’re not going to say it in English, I’m guessing?"
I shake my head. "Not now. Maybe someday."
There’s a quick flicker that crosses his face, like a passing shadow. I almost read it in his eyes, that maybe there won’t be a someday, but I don’t want to believe that. I refuse it.
