Page 12 of Take All of Me

I cut him off, before it becomes too hard to talk. “He’s in my room and he’s completely out of it. I think he needs an Alpha. I can’t help him.” The line goes silent—just long enough for a little squeak to fall from my lips. Dakota follows it with a loud purr, like my sounds are spurring him on, his thrusts hitching faster.

The voice on the other end sharpens. “Is this Maya?”

I swallow, nodding even though he can’t see. “Yeah,” but it comes out breathier than I mean it to, laced with the heat pooling low in my belly.

“Which dorm?” he demands and I rattle off the building and room number, my brain scrambling to keep up. “We’ll be right there,” he promises before the call cuts off. I drop the phone, hands flying to Dakota’s shoulders, as his thrusts turn urgent, hips snapping up with a frantic edge.

“Fuck. I’m going to come, Aya. Fucking shit.”

“I’ve got you, baby,” I whisper, holding his gaze, his eyes wild and unfocused. “It’s okay. They’re going to come and help you.” My fingers dig into his shirt, anchoring him, and then he lets out this guttural sound—half-growl, half-moan—his body locking up against mine. I feel the flood of his release as he comes hard, soaking his sweats and seeping through my shorts, drenching me completely. He trembles, shaking like a leaf as I wrap my arms around him, pulling him close.

His forehead presses into my shoulder, another whimpering tearing from his throat, part pain, part pleasure. “I need more. Aya, I don’t… I don’t know what’s going on but it hurts so fucking bad.” His voice breaks, terror running through it, my chest aching because there’s nothing I can do while he’s falling apart in my arms.

I open my mouth to say something when the door flies open, two men stepping inside, ones I recognize from glimpses around campus. I don’t have time to feel embarrassed as I try climbing off Dakota’s lap. The taller one, all broad shoulders and browneyes—Holt, I presume—rushes forward, catching Dakota as he slumps. I stumble backward, crashing into the other guy, a Beta, leaner with dark brown hair and blurt out what is absolutely obvious at this point. “He’s having a spike, I think? I don’t know. He just came in here and I…”

My voice falters as the Beta steadies me, hands softly wrapping around my arms. “You can’t smell him?” he asks, brow furrowing.

I glare at him before looking back to Dakota. His face twists in pain, a whine tearing from his throat as Holt kneels in front of him, murmuring, “Sweetheart, we can’t do this here. We need to get back to our dorm, okay?”

Dakota’s hands desperately claw at Holt’s jacket, the Beta holding onto me cutting in. “He’s not going to make it across the quad, Holt.”

“There’s an empty room beside mine,” I offer, pulling free from the Beta and hurry down the hall, them half-carrying Dakota behind me. My shorts are uncomfortably damp but without drawing attention to it, I can’t exactly change. I press open the adjacent room’s door, two mattresses with thin sheets covering them, empty desks alongside the edge. “I don’t know what he needs,” I admit, twisting my hands in front of me, “but I know it’s not me. Just… take care of him, okay?”

Holt nods, guiding Dakota inside, barely paying attention to me but why would he when he’s got an Omega in his arms? “Yeah, I got him. Roman, can you,” Holt breaks off and turns his attention back to Dakota. “Hey, sweetheart, I’ve got you.” Dakota’s scratching at Holt’s clothes now, whines pitching higher, and I turn back toward my room. Confusion swirls with worry, but what hits me hardest is this—I’m more scared for Dakota being okay than I am about Holt taking him from me.

I slip inside, shutting the door, and shuck off my soaked shorts and panties, the damp fabric clinging to my thighs. I grabsweatpants from my dresser, tugging them on, just as another needy moan filters through the wall. My stomach twists as I fumble for the little speaker I brought, turning on music loud enough to drown it out, some thumping bass that shakes the floor.

Holt’s got him. His Beta is there. They’re his pack, his anchor, and I’m… what? The girl he ran to, the one he soaked with slick, the one who’s terrified of how much she cares. I tell myself that as long as Dakota is okay, I’ll be alright if he isn’t mine.

I’m lying.

Roman

I stand frozen, watching my Beta mate—Dakota—transform before my eyes into something else, something Omega. His face twists, pain etched into every line, but I know enough about this shit to clock it’s not just hurt—it’s need, a bone-deep craving for pleasure that’s got him unraveling.

Holt’s beside me, brown eyes wide and hilariously lost, as Dakota claws at his clothes, tugging his jacket off with shaky hands. “Kota, easy,” Holt grunts, trying to keep it together, but the air’s thick with it now—lavender swirling with vanilla sugar and my own citrus tang, undercut by Holt’s rich mahogany. Dakota lets out little grumbles and whines, needy sounds that hit me harder than anything else has, until Holt’s fully naked, shirt and sweats in a heap on the floor.

Then the most glorious thing happens. Dakota stumbles forward, and bends over the bare mattress, hands splaying wide on the thin fabric. His sweats are yanked down, and there it is—a glistening, slick-soaked hole staring back at us, slick dripping down his thighs in shiny trails. I lick my lips as the full punch of his arousal slams into me, his scent boldening until it’s all I can breathe. My cock throbs, straining against my jeans, but I know I can’t satisfy him like this, not any better than Maya could.

Holt’s voice cracks through the haze, rough with desire. “Holy fuck, this was not what I was expecting.”

Dakota growls, a frustrated edge to it, hips shifting like he’s begging, our Alpha stalking over as his instincts start to kick in. He pauses, glancing back at me. “Go check on Maya. I have no idea how to explain any of this to her, but just make sure she’s okay.”

Despite my need to be in this room, there’s also that need—to check in on Maya, to figure out what she’s feeling, to soothe her worries, to give her what she wants, needs,craves.I reach down to adjust myself, slipping out into the hall but not before I catch it, though—Holt lining up and sliding into Dakota’s waiting hole with a wet sound that makes my gut clench. Dakota lets out a loud, broken moan muffled by the door when I close it, and I wonder, half-dazed, when it’ll be my turn to fuck him sloppy, to feel that slick heat gripping me.

Shaking off that thought, I take the few steps to Maya’s door, hoping and praying she’s in there. It swings open fast, hardcore music spilling out—some thrashing guitar riff that rattles the walls. She’s there, flushed and fidgeting, her tank top clinging to her chest where Dakota left it damp. Her vanilla sugar scent hits me, spiked with arousal, but it’s overshadowed by terror, her dark eyes wide and uncertain. She steps aside, letting me in. “Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” I ask, voice rougher than I mean it. “This isn’t your fault.”

She hugs her arms around herself, sweatpants loose on her hips. “But he came here,” she insists. “I called as fast as I could.”

I sigh, hating that this is our first real conversation—just me and her, no ice, no puck, no Dakota bridging us. She’s gorgeous, all fierce edges and soft curves, but she’s not reacting right. That Omega heat scent next door? It’s suffocating, intoxicating, a wet dream in pheromone form, but she’s just standing there, embarrassed, not melting under it like she should. “I came to make sure you’re okay,” I tell her, stepping closer. “That’s a lot to handle for anyone.”

She offers me a small, shaky smile. “Not sure how I feel. I could be better. It could be worse,” she admits, then adds, “But you should go to your Omega.” Her scent sours, a bitter twist cutting through the sugar, and I try to puzzle it out. Dakota’s told me about her—years of stories, her laugh, her fire—but she doesn’t know me, doesn’t get my obsession with her through him.

I sigh again, softer this time. “We don’t own him. He’s yours too. He always has been, even before us. That’s never changed. He’s never stopped talking about you.”

She shakes her head, curls bouncing, countering my argument, “That was when he was a Beta. If he’s an Omega, all that changes. I can’t have him, and that’s not what this was. I’m not trying to take him from you. He’ll need you—bothof you.”