Page 53 of His Forsaken Alpha

Cavanaugh slipped his fingers through Wynter’s, the feel of that hand in his taking his breath away. The alpha was a man of extremes. In one minute, he’d inspired chaos and in the next, he’d offered benevolence. He made Wynter feel both—completely out of control yet safe and protected, all at the same time.

The lack of control—of laws and rules—called out to him. It allowed him to see another path, one where he could be whoever he wanted to be. Looking into the alpha’s eyes, he comprehended a fundamental truth. He wanted to be claimedby Cavanaugh, an alpha full of chaosandcompassion. One who might breathe new life into him.

His breath caught, his lungs too tight to hold much air in them.

It was clear from the look in Cavanaugh’s eyes that the man wanted, too.

Fiercely.

The vision of Cavanaugh tossing him over one shoulder and carrying him back to their cabin nearly had him moaning on the spot. More of his slick coated his hole, leaking onto his cheeks. He bit the inside of his lip, begging his body to calm. Pulling his hand away, he gasped. Cavanaugh wouldn’t let go.

“Please,”Wynter whispered, pleading for the alpha to free him before they both made a terrible mistake. “I can’t.”

Cavanaugh’s nostrils flared, and it was clear he was fighting the rising need to rut. “Can’t what?”

“Do what we both want to do.”

Cavanaugh’s jaw tensed. He caressed Wynter’s hand, swallowing thickly. Yet he released his hold, lifting his hands in surrender instead of forcing the situation further.“I’m sorry.”

Wynter rose on shaky legs. He stared at the alpha, only a couple of inches taller standing next to the seated man. He glanced down and noticed Cavanaugh’s pants were tented, the bulge massive. Wynter gripped the edge of the table to keep himself upright. Copious amounts of slick slid from him, rivulets rolling down his thighs.

“Go,”Cavanaugh growled, not looking at Wynter. “Get in that cabin as fast as you can—and lock the door behind you.”

The rough grate to Cavanaugh’s voice sent another shiver up his spine. A mewl escaped his lips, the sound shocking to his own ears.

“If you don’t go right now, I can’t be held accountable for the things I do to you.”

Wynter shuddered, wanting to know what things Cavanaugh would do to him. Instead, he forced one foot in front of the other and marched back to their cabin, each difficult step away making it a little easier to breathe. Fortunately, he saw no other alphas on his trip there. When he arrived inside, he closed and locked the door. Drawing in a deep, relieved breath, all he could smell was Cavanaugh.

More of his slick spread between his ass cheeks. A low moan bubbled up his throat. His body grew more languid by the second, his puckered hole tensing and relaxing. He was going into heat, days early. He checked his watch, realizing there was still six more hours before they arrived and he was swept off to the spa, safe behind their walls.

I’ll never survive it.

6

Cav leaned back in the chair, opposite the one Wynter had just abandoned. Under the table, his cock was as hard as stone. There was no doubt about it—he’d scented slick. Why? Now that was a curious question. Why had his little omega produced slick? The full moon was still two nights away. Most omegas didn’t feel the effects of a heat until the evening before as far as he knew, but then, he didn’t know as much as he likely should about the intricacies of a heat. He closed his eyes, seeing the need in Wynter’s eyes before the omega had escaped the club car.

Mine.

The word whispered through his mind, and he froze, glass halfway from the table to his lips.No, no, no…fuckno.

He brought the glass to his lips and drained it in one gulp, the burn welcome. Wynter could never be his. The omega was already mated.

Wynter’s alphawasn’this fated mate.

But I am.

That thought had him ordering another drink. After he’d drained a second glass, he fought the need to rush back to the cabin and claim what was rightfully his. A third drink was likely a mistake, but better than the other mistake he was contemplating.

Wynter was his?

He didn’t believe in fated mates, for fuck’s sake.

Yet his gut screamed it, as did his head. Both had saved him time and time again on his adventures over the years, but in that moment, they threatened to send him down a dangerous path. After his third drink arrived, he forced himself to sip it, already feeling the effects of the previous two in quick succession.

Wynter was forced into mating… which means his alpha is not true. Itcouldbe another.

It could be me.

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