Page 126 of Wild Omega

“Can I do it for you, baby?”

I hear the soft crack of plastic, and a second bottle comes through the window, lidless. Rickon holds it in place until I manage to grab it. Our fingers brush for a moment, setting off fresh rushes of heat barreling through my veins.

I gulp water, splashing half the bottle on my face in a futile effort to cool down. It’s quiet outside when I collapse back on the floor. “Alpha?” I call softly, suddenly afraid he won’t respond.

“I’m right here, Red. I’m sitting outside the door.”

I roll onto my knees and shuffle forward until my hands rest on the door. “I can’t let you in.”

“I understand. I’m here to help however you want. You’re not alone, Biscuit.”

His words spark fresh tears. I swallow down a groan of pain as another spasm shocks my body. My pussy wants relief, but my terror looms greater.

I clear my burning throat. “The floor’s hard.”

“Oh, baby,” he croons gently. “I can get you a blanket.” He pauses for a minute, and I hear fragments of a whispered conversation outside before he adds, “Or if you’ll allow it, Callisto will cut some more off the door, and we can pass you the big cushions from the lounge. Not all of it. Just a bigger hole.”

I stare at that gap in the door. I struggle with the choice, knowing the cutter was loud and notched up my anxiety big-time. But he kept his word and didn’t break the door down. The floor’s so hard; it might not hurt this bad if I could lie on something soft.

“The . . . the cushions sound good,” I murmur, whimpering as my belly cramps.

I roll away and clutch my ears shut while they cut the bottom off the door. Someone feeds two big square cushions through, and I grab them eagerly. Two more follow and I drag them into a line, staying near the door. Now I can see shadows when the guys move around, as well as parts of Rickon’s feet and legs when he sits down.

A soft, needy whine ripples up my throat and I scoot my makeshift bed closer to the door. It takes every scrap of courage I possess to ask for more. “I want your hand,” I call. This much should be safe, right?

Rickon’s long, slender fingers immediately shoot under the gap, and I slip mine into his palm. He closes his thumb over the back of my hand, just enough for me to note the pressure of his presence without feeling trapped.

“I’m a bad omega, aren’t I?”

“No, you’re a perfect omega. One I love very much. Nothing you do can scare me away, so just concentrate on getting through your heat. I’ll be right here when you’re done. For every heat, forever.”

Next thing I know, I’m sobbing heavily into the cushion, drenching it with my tears. Deep, guttural cries tear at me, pushing my endurance to the max. And when the tears run dry, a corner of a blanket appears next to Rickon’s hand. Without letting go of his hand, I drag it inside and drape it over me. I have no idea if it’s day or night, but full light blares over me, chasing away the shadows while my alpha keeps me anchored to reality.

My body’s turning into a desert, but I’m so tired I drift off.

I wake from a dream where Rickon had his knot so deep in my pussy I felt his cock nudging my ribs. Passionate mewls spill from me as I discover it’s only a dream. My hips thrust, demanding relief.

“Alpha!” I cry, sitting up and rubbing my spread thighs on the cushion. I’m ready to burst.

“It’s me,” Callisto calls. “I sent Ricky up to take a quick break while you slept.”

I crawl to the door, begging softly. “Help me!”

“Yes, anything! Tell me.”

I lean against the door. Just an inch of wood separates me from the alphas, but I can smell his cherry wood scent through the door, mingling with the sawn-off door timber. I glance up at the lock, knowing it’d be so easy to turn that latch and let them both in.

But that might let the ghosts in too. O-11 won’t allow it, won’t allow anything that threatens us. Instead, I writhe against the door.

“Fuck, I think I’m dying!”

The door shivers as Callisto sets his hands on the other side. “How can I help, Red? Please?”

My knees brush through the cut window at the bottom of the door. I can’t let them in, but maybe—another spasm hits me, and I whimper. I can smell him close. The sweet forest scent hits my nostrils, and a flood of slick cascades down my thighs.

“Hand,” I demand in a whisper.

He hears me and reaches under the door. I guess that takes trust too. Wriggling on the floor, I shed my clothes and lower myself over his hand, gripping the door handle for balance.

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