His eyes snap to mine and the blankness cracks. Something moves behind his expression that he kills before it surfaces, but not before I catch the heat of it. "You're my brothers, and you're trouble."
Fuck, this little Omega gets more interesting every time we’re in the space. "I'm more than trouble, firefly, and I'll be your worst nightmare if that's what it takes to wake you up." I hold his gaze. "We're not brothers. There's no shared blood between us. Your mother is dating my father, and that makes us strangers who share a roof."
"That doesn't make this okay," he whispers.
"No." Slowly, I reach toward him, my hand settling around his throat with my fingers resting against his pulse and my thumb finding the hollow beneath his jaw. His pulse kicks faster against my palm, his lips parting as his eyelids flutter, instinct surging through the suppressants to meet my touch. "Tell me, firefly. Do you want this Alpha to help take care of you again?"
His throat moves against my hand. "I can't."
"That's not what I asked."
His scent breaks through the suppressants and floods the filing room as I trace my thumb along his jaw, feeling the tremor that follows my touch. When I reach his mouth, I don't stop. I trace the curve of his lower lip, feeling how soft it is, how it parts under the lightest pressure. His breath catches and his eyes go liquid, and when I press forward, he opens his mouth and lets my thumb slide past his lips.
The sound he makes is barely audible, a tiny exhale of relief that cuts through every strategic thought in my head. He closes his lips around my thumb and his whole body transforms. His shoulders drop and the rigid line of his spine dissolves. His eyes close and the tension that has lived in his face since the foyer smooths away.
"You're precious." It comes out rougher than I plan. "Absolutely precious, firefly."
He sways toward me at the praise, seeking contact, and I could take this further because the door is closed and the floor is empty. But I pull my thumb from his mouth instead, and the whimper of protest takes more self-control to resist than I'd like to admit.
"Time to go home, Mattaniah."
He blinks at me, still half under, his lips wet. "I'm not done. Mr. Hale said by morning."
"And I wasn't asking." I stand and offer my hand. He takes it and I pull him to his feet, holding on a beat longer than necessary. "The files will be here tomorrow."
His gaze drops to his own shaking hands. "How did you..."
"You've been trembling since this morning and your pupils are uneven." I pick his jacket off the chair and hold it open, standing behind him close enough that my scent covers his back. "How many pills did you take today?"
He slides his arms in without answering.
"Two is your maximum. Promise me."
"You don't get to tell me what to do." The faintest edge enters his voice, a spark of resistance that warms me from the inside outside.
"I absolutely get to tell you what to do, and you like it when I do."
He turns to argue and finds me closer than he expected, our faces inches apart. Whatever retort he'd prepared dies when his gaze drops to my mouth and snaps back up.
"Dominic." Amos' voice comes from the doorway with the warmth of someone who's been watching long enough to enjoy himself. He crosses the room and settles behind me with his chin on my shoulder and his arms around my waist, fitting himself to my back with the ease of years of practice.
Mattaniah's expression shifts as he takes in what he's seeing, the casual intimacy of two people who belong to each other completely. I watch the Omega recalculate, Mattaniah slowly picking up that whatever exists between me and Amos isn't competition.
"We should get him home," Amos says to me with his eyes on Mattaniah. "He looks like he hasn't eaten since the sandwich I watched him pick at hours ago."
"I'm standing right here." Mattaniah's voice sharpens. "You can talktome instead of about me."
Amos grins against my shoulder. "You're right, I'm sorry, Niah. Have you eaten?"
The nickname tightens Mattaniah's jaw, not with anger but with the effort of refusing to respond to the intimacy it carries. He shakes his head.
"Then let's fix that." Amos releases me and heads for the door. Mattaniah glances at me with a look full of questions he can't articulate, then follows Amos into the hallway.
The original game was to break my Father while making Mattaniah submit fully and completely to us, but I’m beginning to wonder if this new Omega will be more than just a passing toy.
Mattaniah
Threedaysintomynew life at Hale Industries and I've developed a routine that revolves almost entirely around avoiding being alone with Richard. I arrive early, stay at my desk through breaks when I can manage it, and time my trips to the printer and copy room for when his calendar shows he's in meetings. The system works well enough until the afternoon he doesn't go to his two o'clock.
