She laughs and then wriggles free to drag me toward a far more secluded space in the form of a tiny public garden beneath an event venue. Only once I’m convinced we’re as alone as we might get do I sweep Helena against another wall and start to ravish her. I kiss her neck and arms while sliding my hand under her shirt. Her breath hitches as my thumbs brush her breasts. Then Helena’s reaching down and fumbling with my jeans.
I distract her by unbutton her own and slipping my hand inside. She’swarm, so warm. And so slick already. Helena gasps as my fingers slip between her folds and circle her clit. By the time I’ve slipped two fingers inside, her hips buck in time with my thrusts. I swallow her loud moans by kissing her fiercely and try not to cum myself as she rides my hand to her own climax. Her inner walls flutter around me as her release slicks my hand.
When she comes down from it, Helena slips free from my grip and turns us around so it’s my back against the wall. She falls to her knees before me. I help her free my cock. Her hands are so small but so warm against it. Whenever—ifever—this proceeds to something more, I’m afraid my cock might be too big for her. But for now, Helena works my length with both hands and her mouth in a way that has me praying to higher beings above for longevity so I don’t immediately lose it. My breath comes in harsh, ragged breaths while Helena gives me the best head of my life.
My toes curl and my balls pull up. Helena grabs my hips and holds me inside her throat as I empty into her. I can’t hide the growl that escapes my lips as I cum.
Finally, Helena pulls back and stands with an incredibly smug smile on her face.
“You devil,” I whisper, my breath ragged. “I never would’ve thought.”
She tilts her head and grins. “I’m confident you’ll find plenty of surprises still to be discovered.”
Fuck me.“I can’t wait to uncover them.” And to do so many,manyother things.
The rest of the walk back to Helena’s rental flat is innocent. But my thoughts are far from it.
CHAPTER 15
Helena
It’s not even five,but the flat is already filling with the fractured blue of coastal dawn. The air inside is chilly and perfectly still—except for the soft, staticky snore leaking from behind the bedroom door. Zane never snores when he’s on duty. I’m not sure he even sleeps, ordinarily. But something about the last few days has loosened him enough for him to fall into a coma, stretched out on his back with an arm flung over his eyes. I could stand at the threshold and watch him forever, but that would probably defeat the purpose of my escape.
I grab my hoodie from the hook by the kitchen, ease the door open, and slip in. Zane doesn’t stir, though I swear his nose twitches, like some predatory animal cataloguing scents even in dreams. I drift to the bedside and press my lips to Zane’s forehead. He doesn’t move. If anything, he seems to settle deeper, the lines in his face smoothing out. I wonder if he dreams of me. If he ever lets himself.
I slip back out and leave a note on the fridge.Gone to the beach. Don’t worry. —H.
The front door closes with a soft clack that echoes up and down the silent lane. Nobody in Seamuse Village is awake yet, save for the bakery crew and a couple of elderly fishermenprepping their boats. Even the gulls haven’t started their shrieking yet.
I cross the narrow street, damp tarmac under my bare feet, and climb the low dunes down to the beach.
The wind is cold. It slices the last shreds of sleep from my head. I like it that way.
I walk until I’m almost at the waterline, then flop down into the sand. The beach is empty for at least a mile in either direction, the tide just beginning its retreat. The only sound is the heavy, slow churn of the waves. The ocean smells different at sunrise—softer, somehow, like the world is breathing out instead of in.
I hug my knees and look out across the water. I’ve been smiling since last night. The muscles in my cheeks hurt a little. It’s absurd but does not negate the fact that I may have just started building this pack. Drawn them in, just as Zane suggested.
A pack.
When I came to Seamuse, I was trying to escape pack life. But here I am, dancing at the edges of it.
I keep trying to tell myself it’s only the freedom of summer and the lack of direct family input. But the truth is, I’m falling for all three of them—Zane, Lucas, and Cole.Have beenfalling for Zane for years if I’m being honest. And I have no idea what I’m supposed to do about it.
There’s this old saying that when omegas go away to the shore for the summer, the sea gets in their blood and makes them reckless. It was tossed around Omega Finish School so often. I always thought that was a dramatic copout for why our family line in particular, along with others, kept producing scandal after scandal. But sitting here, with the wind making my eyes sting and my hands gritty with wet sand, I understand it now.
The sea has a way of washing all the rules away.
Zane has caught me the most off guard despite being such an obvious tell. I used to think Zane stayed close because it was his job, but it’s more than that. When my own parents barely remembered my birthday last year, Zane made me cupcakes from a boxed mix and sang to me, horribly, in our kitchen. He could have been a thousand miles away and he still would have found a way to make me feel safe.
Lucas is the opposite. Lucas is sunlight in human form. He doesn’t know how to be cool, but he knows how to be kind.
And Cole. Cole is easy to overlook at first, with his quiet hands and his way of fading into the background, but that’s just because he doesn’t need attention. He’s the center of gravity for everyone around him. That’s how this community feels about both him and his bakery. He takes the world as it is and makes it better, one Cornish pasty at a time.
Three scent-matched alphas. It’s like something out of a fairy tale—or a cautionary tale. I bet my father would say the latter. When I try to picture my future, I see all three of them with me. Not a royal or high society pack of alphas. Not the city.
I see Seamuse. And them.
Both of these things are unfortunately not father-approved.
