Page 41 of Her Knotty Alphas

I'm testing the waters. Austin won't tell me what happened between them all those months ago, but maybe she will.

She covers her face, and I feel like maybe that wasnotthe time to bring it up. "Dazed? Oh my gods. If anything, he was probably just dumbstruck by the level of stupidity one omega can have."

Gently, I pry her hands from her face to reveal the beet red cheeks underneath. "No, princess. He was gone for you. Obsessed. He made you cupcakes when he heard you might be at Titus' party."

Her plush lips part slightly, confusion lining her features. "He did? But I…" she shakes her head, "I guess I'll have to bring it up at some point."

Unable to ignore my instincts any longer, I grab her from the couch. She lets out a little surprised squeak as I settle her onto my lap, and a rusty purr rattles in my chest. "Weallwant you, princess." I reassure her, rubbing a hand up and down her back as she relaxes into me.

"You don't call me princess because you think I'm spoiled, do you?" Her voice is quiet, and I hate how small she's making herself.

"What? No," I say vehemently, leaning my head down so I can look into her eyes. "I call you princess because you're fucking royalty in my eyes, and I'm a devoted servant. You command me as you wish. I'll be your attack dog. I'll slay your enemies. I'll bring you your fucking step-sister's metaphorical head on a metaphorical platter. I call you princess because all you have to do is snap your fingers and I'll roll over like a damn dog. Don't underestimate the power you hold over us, baby. All of us."

Before I can register what's happening, she's pushing up from me, but not to get off. No, she's turning so she can put a leg on either of my lap and straddle me. Her lips meet mine in a frenzied kiss, her hands on the side of my face. I groan into her mouth as she opens for me, dipping her tongue, knowing I'm never going to be able to forget the feeling of her clothed pussy slightly grinding over my jean-covered cock.

My hands snake around her so I can palm her ass, my fingers squeezing the pliable flesh gently and making her whimper.

Fuck.

It doesn't go any further, though. For a minute, we're just like two teenagers with the house to themselves for the first time. Exploring each other's mouths and bodies with our tongues and hands.

I could get drunk off the taste of her.

I don't know how long we sit there, her gently rocking over my erection but not pushing any further. What I do know is that she's going to have to be the one who breaks this kiss, because I am going to take what I can get as long as she's willing to give it to me.

When she does pull back, we're both breathing hard like we ran a marathon or some shit. She presses her forehead to mine, and I remove a hand from her ass, gently grasping her neck before tilting her face so I can press one last kiss against her lips.

She's like putty under my touch, and when I release her, she blinks a few times. "I…um…it's getting late. And I'm not trying to rush things. If you stay here much longer, I'll…"

"Invite me into your nest?" I supply helpfully, and she laughs, gently smacking my shoulder. I'm glad we've moved on from the blushing portion of the evening. As adorable as it is, I want her to be nothing but comfortable around me.

I steal one last kiss on my way out the door, and though my alpha rages at me for leaving our mate behind, I know it's for the best.

For now.

We have a lot to prove to Hannah Beckham, especially once she finds out about Charlie, and I have a few ideas on how to do it.

Chapter 18

Hannah

I'm lucky all my clients are in the morning two days after my visit with Noah, because by the time I'm leaving the salon at noon, I'm feeling…weird. I had decided to stay away from my alphas yesterday, but answered Enzo and Noah's texts so they wouldn't be worried. I needed a clear head to think about things from an unbiased perspective. How am I supposed to figure out how long it'l l be before they get tired of me if I can't think straight?

The effect of the true scent match is undeniable. Having Noah show up at my door on Sunday afternoon had been like an omega wet dream. I had only caught a glimpse of him at Titus' party, but fuck I was right.

I wanted him to spank me.

Shoulder length black hair he had pushed back out of his face, pierced ears, a hoop through his eyebrow, black spiderweb tattoos that flexed across his muscular neck and forearm, and that positively sinful smirk all screams "bad boy".

And his scent?

Cinnamon and clove, warming me from the inside out and reminding me of walking through a forest during autumn, when the leaves are turning bronze and falling from the branches.

Thinking of his scent seems to bring my strange feelings to the surface again.

Light-headed.

Tired.

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