Page 32 of Truth or Lie

“Kam,” the female said, her distressed pheromones choking the air around us. “Talk to us.”

The male was shaking. “It’s okay. I’m okay. She can’t help being rough.”

I didn’t want him shaking like that. I wanted him sated and pregnant. I wanted himclaimed. I gnashed my teeth furiously against the gag.

“Let one of the others check you out once she lets you go,” said the female, her scent still sour with worry. “I want to make sure you’re not bleeding.”

“I will,” the male replied. “Please try not to worry. She can smell it on you.”

“Sorry,” the female said, sounding contrite. Her scent moderated to something more neutral as the minutes passed, and I relaxed a bit.

I couldn’t understand why the alphas weren’t intervening. At first, I thought maybe they were also restrained like I was—but they didn’t seem to be. No one in the room was happy, but as the hours dragged on, I always had an omega to fuck and knot. It was impossible not to let my guard down, at least a little.

It was the female riding me, mostly, but I still knotted the male three times. My clit felt like it was about to snap off at the root from overuse, but I couldn’t stop. The world would implode if I stopped. The omegas grew ever more pliant and yielding as time passed, sprawling bonelessly over my body whenever we were tied together. The scent of distress gave way to a scent of exhaustion. I liked that better, even if it still wasn’t right. I liked the way they felt when they trusted their weight to me, pressing me into the softness of the mattress at my back.

Maybe that part was almost as good as fucking. Maybe it would be okay to have the weight of drowsy omegas on me without having my clit buried deep inside them. As if the thought had flipped some kind of a switch inside my mind, darkness washed over me and I tumbled into sleep.

FIFTEEN

Alex

SOMEONE WAS STABBINGan ice pick through my right eye. I tried to swallow and lick my lips. My jaw hurt. My tongue hurt. Not like I’d accidentally bitten it, though. More like I’d been using it to do dumbbell curls.

I was lying on a bed. The room was dim—soothingly lit with warm, reddish light.A nest. My head wasn’t the only thing that hurt. My sheathed clit throbbed like someone had kicked me square between the legs with a steel-toed boot. My wrists and ankles felt bruised. The side of my neck was tender.

One of my idiot packmates was sitting in a chair beside the bed. Jax eyed me warily as I groaned and tried to roll into a sitting position, only to fall back on the bed in an ignominious heap.

“Good morning,” he said. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

There was no world in which a question phrased like that led to anything good. Against my better judgment, I cast my mind back.

“We were—” I began, only to descend into dry coughing.

Jax handed me a cup. I took it and drank, noting in a detached sort of way that my hand was trembling. A dribble of water trickled down my chin.

“We were... in Belarus?” I managed, handing the cup back.

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