Page 95 of One for the Money
“You didn’t have to ask, Dex. That’s what being a twin is. We take care of one another, and I’ve done everything I could to make sure you’re okay.” I wipe the angry tears that fall down my face away with the back of my hand. “But I can’t do this. I can’t give her up for you. I don’t want to lose you, but I can’t lose her. She’s my Omega. I need her.”
“She doesn’t even want us,” he whispers, hurt lacing every one of his words. “She’s made that so fucking clear. Why are you willing to ruin our relationship over an Omega who wants nothing to do with any of us?”
The back of my neck is on fire, and my hands are shaking. I want to crawl out of my skin, and I know that the only thing that will make me feel better is my Omega. I need to hold her, to smell her, to kiss her, to fuck her.
And my brother is in my fucking way.
“You’re not worth my fucking time,” I spit at him, climbing to my feet and grabbing him by the shirt. “You’re hopeless. I don’t know why I thought you could ever change.”
If I were in my right mind, I would probably ache at the look on his face, but all I care about is getting to Alex.
A door slams behind me, and the scent of rich chocolate swirls in the air. There’s a tart cherry thread weavedthroughout it that makes my mouth water, and I find myself sitting back on my haunches, ignoring Dexter’s heaving form beneath me.
“Stop.”
The word blankets all the Alphas in the room, including me, and freezes our bodies where they are.
Omega.
My Omega is here.
“What in the world is going on?” she says, her voice low and laced with a true growl. Omegas don’t typically growl, do they? I try to wrack my brain, to pull on the training all Alphas have to take when they present, to pinpoint the conditions that have to be met for an Omega to be able to growl like this.
I can only think of one.
The need to control an Alpha in rut.
Oh.
“Alex,” Matteo pants, abandoning his effort to break up the fight between Jude and Quinton, and running toward her. “What are you doing here? You need to leave, it’s not safe.”
“I could feel your fear and distress. It woke me up.”
Now that I’m looking at he through clearer eyes, she does look sleep-rumpled, her wavy hair wild around her face and her curvy body wrapped in a pair of boxers and a baggy t-shirt.
The sight of her stiffens my cock and has my fists clenching.
Who’s fucking boxers are those?
Whose boxers are my Omega wearing?
A growl rises up in my chest, and I make a move to lunge at her, to rip them off her body, when she spins and cements me to the spot with a furious glare.
“No you fucking don’t, Alpha.” She bares her teeth atme, and I immediately shrink back, showing her my neck in a subconscious sign of submission. Dexter chuckles darkly under his breath but doesn’t say shit to me.
“They were jealous of my bond,” Matteo tells her, rubbing his chest. “They started fighting over who was taking you on the next date, who was getting your bond next. The scent of your slick in here, plus the aggression and need to claim, was a perfect storm. I think all of them have fallen into a rut. It’s not safe for you to be here.”
A light blush blooms on her cheeks as she groans, scrubbing her hands down her gorgeous face. “Because, of course, they would fight over who gets my bond next.”
“Quinton’s never been in a rut before,” the Beta admits, eyes darting to the Rotting Alpha. “All I know is that ruts require them to fuck or fight it out, right?”
Alex slumps down into one of Jude’s chairs, exhaustion evident in her delicate features. “That’s the easiest way to fix it, yeah. Pheromone exposure can calm it, Omega purrs, and extreme exercise can help, too. But yes, fucking and fighting are the fastest way through without blockers.”
“Do you have blockers on hand?” the Beta asks hopefully.
“No. They’re prescription only.”
Dexter tries to wrench himself away from my grip on his shirt. “I’m not in a rut,” he snarls, pushing against me again. “I don’t need one.”
