Page 28 of Zodiac Beasts

I had to take control of this situation.

“Turn around.” I commanded and she listened, and I liked that too much. Devil’s curse, I just wanted to tell her what to do. Every time I commanded my little puppet, a zip of satisfaction shivered through me, building an undue heat down low. It was as though I could make her do anything.

I was an Omega. A coveted class of slaves. I’d been forced into matchmaking, forced into upholding the Arya traditions, and one day, I’d be forced to bond and to father an heir. I shouldn’t have control over anything in my life, but… “You can drop your arms now,” I said, and she obeyed.

That shiver hit me again.

I had complete control over her

SHUT UP. I demanded of my own mind, once again pleading with a two faced monster that she would never be allowed to meet. Focus.

Another deep breath.

Her long hair hung loosely down her back. Beautiful black hair, so long, thick, and silky. I gathered it all in my hand, and I delicately placed it over her shoulder.

“Stand up straight.” I measured her from shoulder to shoulder, then took extra measurements down her back. I gathered her hair once more, so I could wrap the ribbon loosely around her neck for the last point I needed. The thin, yellow tape hugged her sensitive jugular like a choker. She’d look so good with a collar. She was so easy to put in her place.

Powerless Lila, all tied up in a bow.

I was fucking losing it. I forced my head in line with a hard shake. I jotted down the number and removed the tape from her neck with swiftness.

“All done.” I said, through the dryness in my throat. “I’m going to go copy these numbers real quick and put them in your chart for later.”

“I can’t wait to see what you come up with.” Lila uttered some generic nicety, and I could barely register the actual words. “I have to go check on the Astrology booth, but maybe I’ll see you for the fireworks show later?”

“It’s always possible.” I dismissed her, needing her to leave right now. I absolutely would not be out after dark tonight, but I didn’t have the mind to discuss it with her right now.

She excused herself, and I stepped away from the Sewing Club booth and ducked into the men’s restroom. I made sure the door was firmly locked, before I let myself undo my belt so I could shove my hand where I so desperately needed relief.

Closing my eyes, I focused on my own shallow breathing, while I relieved myself of whatever spell she’d spun on me.

I was so hard that it could barely breathe, and again I blamed the nearness of the full moon. I told myself it was her pheromones, her bloodline, and the entire hierarchy of shifters that took my rationality prisoner, but what if it wasn’t? I wasn’t this deplorable, was I?

My sharp breath came out like a low hiss, as I squeezed my length, in argument with my mind every time it conjured images of her clenching down on my cock.

She would be such a good girl. She would do everything I told her to do, bouncing when I told her to, at the rhythm I made her move. She would take all of me with her needy cunt, and I wouldn’t let her come until she was dripping with my seed. A perfect doll, dancing on her strings.

I squeezed my eyes shut, letting the overabundance of moisture bead in the corners, until the relief of gentle, blood red tears crawled slowly down my cheeks.

Those thoughts weren’t mine. They couldn’t be mine.

Her soft body that I’d so intimately and intricately measured now painted every fantasy that I refused to believe I had.

She’s not even in the room with me anymore. I’ve never marked her.

What the devil is wrong with me.

I argued in my mind, while my hand found the perfect rhythm. Heat washed over my body as that brilliant, abhorrent tension reached its head. I shoved fangs into my lip and I clawed for that release, needing it to wipe her from my system. A clear head wasn’t possible so long as I was always letting myself get to this point of frustration and need. I’d abstained for too long. It had been at least six months since the last time I’d even let myself find release, and it wasn’t in my own hands then. This woman was going to be the death of me.

Maybe death was the best case scenario. Because otherwise, this was going to be the death of her.

I released into my hand, while breaking the skin of my lip with my teeth. Blood ran down my chin, as I smeared come down my slowly softening cock. When I heard a low whimper, it was several seconds before I accepted it was mine.

Sinking into the doorframe, I listened to my shallow breathing as endorphins I shouldn’t want flooded my body. I could still smell that sage note so clearly that I couldn’t breathe.

I washed my hands thoroughly, and splashed a few handfuls of water on my face, just looking for my own sane mind. My lip healed slowly when I bit myself with my own fangs. The venom was enough that even my own body needed a moment to fully reject it.

I sucked on the wound, finding comfort in the salty flavor, then I left the restroom to return to my club and finish out my duty. I’d offer to help for another hour, then I was going back to the shop where I had wards and protective glass.