“If you permit me, I can try this on you and see if it works. Just don’t get any creepy alpha ideas.”
“I’m not creepy,” I reply.
“No, you’re not. You’re…” He wets his lips, and his gaze lands on my chest. “Do you want me to try this?”
“Sure. Why the fuck not?”
He hesitates a moment, and then he reaches down and pulls my shirt up.
My nipples pebble, and I feel alive for the first time since putting that joint to my lips. Like I’m doing something forbidden, something so fucking right.
And as I inhale, I smell that cinnamon scent again, mixed with an undertone of vanilla.
“Not a fucking word about this to anyone.”
His body grows closer, his chest nearly pressed against mine. I inhale through my mouth.
“There are pressure points you can use to help with all sorts of things…” Two of his fingers slide down to my right hip, sliding across the bone and pressing on a muscle. “One is right here.” As he presses down, his right hand slides around my hip, making goosebumps break out on my skin.
“The other is right here.” He touches a spot just below my spine. His fingers massage the small pressure points, each one growing harder than the last.
“And what would a little help be without a little magic?”
He whispers something, and I swear I see his eyes glow when suddenly something zips through my body. It’s painful and euphoric, making my back arch, and I grit my teeth to keep my groan inside.
Fuck, my entire body is lit up, my cock instantly growing hard, my pupils dilating as everything comes into focus. I no longer feel like shit. No, it’s quite the opposite. Right now, I feelalive.
My hands move to Arbor’s hips—my omega—and tighten, digging into his flesh, holding on to him tightly. I can smell the faint scent of his slick. It’s making everything inside me tighten, ready to snap.
“Oh shit,” he murmurs when he hears my ragged breathing. “Oh gods. I’m gonna kill him.”
“What the fuck did you do to me?” I growl when I feel my cock throbbing against the zipper of my jeans. Whatever nerve he pushed, he pushed the wrong one. Because it feels almost like going into rut. And he’s not even in heat. How the fuck is that possible?
“What kind of fucking magic did you use on me?”
“It’s just a silly little saying and some pressure points. It’s supposed to help relieve pain.” He lets out a distressed grunt. “I’m gonna fix this,” he murmurs, trying to pull away from me, but I don’t let go. My hands don’t want to release him.
“You have to let me go, Mr. Barrett. I have to make a call,” he hisses, trying to twist out of my grip.
“You made the wolf come out, Arbor.”
“It’s Mr. Wren to you.”
I manage, by a feat of the gods, to let him go.
He stumbles over his feet to get to his desk, fumbling with his phone. My fingers clutch the doorframe behind me, trying to keep myself under control.
But it’s so fucking hard when he smells this good.
“You smell like vanilla pudding.”
“Fuck off,” he tells me, and then glowers at the receiver of his phone, murmuring that the person better answer.
When a voice appears on the other end of the line, he jumps slightly.
“What the hell did you make me do?” he asks angrily. A laugh and some murmured words from the other end. I can’t hear it clearly because my ears are buzzing and my entire focus is on the way Arbor looks, the way he smells.
“You know what I’m asking. Don’t play dumb,” he says in response. “You told me about those damn pressure points and the saying. I used them, and now this alpha is losing his fucking mind.”
