Page 50 of Black Moon

“I might be rambling a little,” I admitted. “I don’t invite people into my room often.” Ever, really, but I didn’t need to tell him that. He could smell it, doubtless. No one but me had set foot in my bedroom in years.

He dropped his duffel to the floor with a thunk and stepped into my space. “It’s cute,” was all he said before he stood on his toes and mashed our lips together. My arms went around him instinctively, wrapping around his waist and pulling him in tight.

That was when a wave of heat scent washed over me. Oh. Wow.

I’d done this before with other omegas. Really, I had. It had been fine then. Great, even.

I just didn’t remember this overwhelming rush of scent and connected emotions, so strong they could have bowled me over. In that moment, my whole world narrowed to the pinpoint that was Colt Doherty, standing there in front of me. The selfless man with the beautiful heart, who had come to write a story on omega health, and stayed to save my pack.

That was the moment when I realized that no matter what happened during Colt’s heat, however this ended, my life was never going to be the same. Either he was staying forever, or I was going to have to relearn how to live without him.

26

Colt

Iwas so deeply fucked.

No, not literally. We hadn’t gotten to that part yet, but Linden Grove was perfect. He wrapped his strong arms around my waist, each fingertip pressing into my back, dragging me onto my toes. I felt each point tingle like a spark, and that was through my shirt. The second we were skin on skin, I’d fall apart.

He wasn’t much taller than me, really—a few inches, less than a hand’s span—but I’d never felt as safe as I did when he held me close. I melted under the soft tease of his lips, the little tug he gave my bottom one with teeth I could just imagine scraping deliciously against my neck and sending me shivering.

And ofcourse, that awful hindbrain impulse had me flinch.

“What is it?” he asked, not missing the movement or the worry behind it.

He pulled back, looking down at me with eyes shining with concern, and something else that made my toes curl in my shoes and tempted me to press against him again.

His hands settled on my hips, and the tips of his fingers slipped under my shirt, brushing across my heated skin so softly it was almost like an afterthought.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

I’d forgotten to answer him the first time, staring into those gorgeous gray eyes of his, the serious set of his luscious mouth as he looked at me.

Before I could talk, I had to shut my eyes. My tongue darted across my lips to wet them, and I sighed.

“No. No, absolutely not. This is perfect.”

Really, it was. I was used to dealing with my heat in my parents’ McMansion, where I hid out in my room and we all pretended nothing was happening. Or in a dorm room. Or some guy’s small, grungy apartment.

Here, we had privacy—a whole wing of a charming house where Linden’s sweet little brother was offering me pie. But more than that, the place smelled like Linden. It was all wool sweaters and books and the scent from the bathroom smelled like sage and mint bubble bath.

I could fall into it, into Linden, if I could just get out of my own head.

“Okay,” Linden said softly, but he’d taken to brushing his thumbs across my hipbones gently, and nothing more. He seemed to sense I had more to say.

I was doing the unforgivable—making an alpha think and talk, when he clearly wanted to be doing the opposite.

And because Linden was selfless and shockingly controlled, he waited patiently for me to get my thoughts in order.

When I opened my eyes again, he was watching me calmly, only the hint of something seething under the surface, restrained until I gave him the go-ahead.

“Sometimes,” I said, licking my lips again when my nerves started to get the better of me, “it takes me a minute to let go.”

It was kind of embarrassing, being able to ask a guy to fuck me out of the blue but getting antsy when the thing was happening. But it didn’t have anything to do with sex—it had to do with letting myself act on instinct and not feeling like I was a worse wolf for doing it.

When I was younger, I’d spent so much time fighting it, feeling out of control and embarrassingly fragile in a household full of alphas who were put out by what they called “omega nonsense,” that I had just wanted it to go away. If I never felt the searing warmth inside me, that need to feel full and connected with another wolf, I’d be more the son my father wanted.

Which was bullshit. Obviously.

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