Page 44 of Vallaverse: Noir
Both of us are shocked to realize that we're part of a pack. Neither of us realized that's what the three of us have formed. It's astounding. I wonder if Dana has thought about it.
“Do you have to mark me?” Beckett asks without looking at me.
“I don't know. I think we would be okay either way, but we can talk to Dana about it when she's up to it. If it's something you need, I don't mind and I doubt she will.”
He nods. “I don't know what I'll need. Right now, all I need is her. The bond is strange. I thought it would feel different.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don't know.” He shrugs. “I didn't realize I would feel so many conflicting things. We're brought up to believe that our Alphas will take care of us. That they're so strong. That we won't have to worry about anything once we're claimed.”
“You don't think Dana is strong enough for you?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “That's not what I mean. She's more than enough. I just didn't know I would feel protective over her. Possessive, yes. Intensely. But that's not the same thing as being protective.”
I don't have a response to that. I have my own issues concerning Dana. If she was an Omega, there would be no investigating. There would be no questioning people. There would be no gunshot wounds. There would only be keeping her safe and a whole lot of sex.
But Dana isn't an Omega. She's an Alpha. And while I can protect her to a large degree, I won't be able to control her the way I would be able to control an Omega. She will never blindly accept my authority. Beckett as her Omega confounds things further because he isn'tmyOmega. I can give him commandsand he will follow them, but if I try to control him the way I would if he was mine, Dana wouldn't be happy with me. I want her happy. I want her to be so happy.
I offer to get Beckett something to eat, but he isn't any more able to eat than I am. Neither of us will be able to take a deep breath, much less eat anything, until Dana's in the clear. I just want to get her home. She'll be safe at home.
“Beckett? For Alpha Harding?” A nurse calls from the desk.
Beckett jumps to his feet and I'm right behind him. “How is she?” he asks.
“She's a tough bird,” the nurse says. “She's already awake and trying to go home. It's a clean wound. The worst part is the amount of blood she lost, but other than that she's okay to leave after the discharge papers go through.”
Beckett takes a deep breath and the tight ball of anxiety between my shoulder blades releases.
She's okay.
~
The car ride home is quiet. Dana leans against me with her eyes closed, dozing until she winces when we hit bumps on the road. I had no idea my driveway was so uneven. Every time the car dips and she's jostled, I get a little more angry. That anger mixes with the stress of the day and the knowledge that I should have marked her days ago until I'm sitting beside her quietly churning with determination.
It isn't fair. It might not even be safe. But I don't care. I almost lost her before I even had her. Beckett was distraught. Marking her will solidify our pack, which will help him feel more secure. I should have done it days ago. It will be done today.
I don't leave any room for argument or discussion when we get home. I lift Dana from the car and carry her inside the house with Beckett following behind. I take her upstairs and gently put her down in front of the bed. She opens her mouth tosay something, but I hold up a finger to quiet her. This isn't a conversation. This isn't a debate. This is necessary.
“I have been scared out of my mind for hours. I watched blood pour out of your body. My shirt is soaked in it. I have watched you work. I have watched you fuck. I have watched you kill. And today I watched you nearly die. And all I've been able to think about is the fact that all of these things happened, but I haven't claimed you. That's changing. Right now.”
She lets me undress her. It isn't difficult. They had to cut her shirt off of her at the hospital and sent her home wearing a hospital gown over her pants, the only difficult thing is getting everything off around the sling she's wearing to help stabilize her arm and shoulder. She still has bloodstains on her torso and side, dried blood in her hair. I don't care. She could be covered in blood and I wouldn't care.
I jerk at my clothes until they're piled in the floor with hers and pull her against me as carefully as my determination will allow. I put my hand under her jaw and brusquely turn her mouth up to mine. The last kisses I gave her were full of gentleness. That's gone now.
Too many things could have gone wrong today. Too many scenes are flashing in my mind, full of fear and blood and desperation. There's only so much room left in me for gentleness and it will have to be enough to keep me from hurting her when I take her.
A low-rolling growl clogs my throat when she makes a small sound of acceptance as she lifts her uninjured arm to touch my chest. I feed at her mouth, moving my hand from her jaw to fist the back of her hair. She gasps and whimpers with every sensation, and I wrap my arm around her waist roughly, arching her back and deepening the kiss even more, letting my tongue taste her as she opens for me.
“Careful,” Beckett cautions from the doorway.
I don't answer. I'll be careful. I don't need the reminder. I'm not going to hurt her. Not on purpose. Never on purpose.
She wraps her arm around my neck, pressing against me as I hold her close. I want to make this last. I want it to be enough. But I think I need it too much for it to be anything other than what it is. This is a claiming. I can make love with her later if that's what she wants. Right now, I just need to make sure she's mine.
“Can you lean against the dresser? Can you stand?” I ask her, biting and licking a path down her neck.
“I think so,” she says roughly. “For a little while.”
