Page 77 of The Omega's Alpha
“I was worried you’d be bored.”
“Only until you came out that first time.” Quin stepped out of his shoes and pants, and moved a couple of inches away to pull off his shirt. “You said you didn’t want those ripped off you,” he reminded Holland.
“No, they aren’t mine. I have to give them back.” He took everything off, handling it all like antique treasure, and hung it carefully in the closet. Quin leaned against the wall, watching with a hunger that grew with every minute that passed. His mate. His love. And a partner like nothing he could have imagined.
Holland came back to him, graceful as grass blowing in the wind, his fingers feathering over Quin’s skin like a dance of clouds. “It was scary,”he whispered, his breath puffing warm against Quin’s collarbone as he explored the long bones and sent shivers running over Quin’s body. “I wanted you so badly. You wouldn’t believe what a relief it was to see you out there.”
“Show me,” Quin murmured as he nuzzled at Holland’s temple. “You’re so beautiful.”
Holland led him to the bed, walking backwards while his hands mapped out Quin’s nervous system, setting off chain reactions of desire that streaked through his body to coil restlessly in his groin. They reached the bed and Holland crawled gracefully up onto it, never breaking the intensity of the connection between them. His lips brushed lightly over Quin’s jaw, leaving streaks of heat like the scent trail of a young deer, tempting and hunger-making. He still smelled of the human make-up, but also of Holland—sweat and sex and the mossy soap he preferred.
“Come to your omega, alpha,” Holland sighed and pulled Quin down on top of him.
Gladly.
Music intruded on his exploration of the hollows of Holland’s body, and then that same body was gone, vanished like mist in front of a fire. Holland crawled across the bed to his phone on the side table. “Hello?” His voice was anxious, the languorous grace of his body transmuted to clumsy urgency. “Bax? Is something wrong?”
Quin crawled up to lie beside him, spooning his mate. It didn’t matter if something was wrong—they couldn’t go anyway now that curfew had passed. But he’d be there to pick of Holland’s shattered pieces if it was bad news. Thinly through the speaker, Quin heard Bax’s voice.
“No, nothing’s wrong. Except certain upstart puppies won’t go to sleep without their bedtime songs, and apparentlyI’mnot good enough.” He said it in an exaggerated drawl, and the pups giggled in the background, yelling, “Holland! Holland!”
Holland laughed and put a hand on Quin’s arm where it rested around his waist. “Little terrors! All right, I’ll sing you some songs. But then right to bed after.” He peered over his shoulder at Quin, mouthed sorry, and then put the phone on speaker. “How about Ten Little Wolves and When the Night Sky?”
“Yeah!” the pups chorused.
Quin smiled against the back of Holland’s shoulder, and listened as Holland began in a low voice. “Ten little wolves all went for a hunt, ten little wolves having fun, ten little wolves all running through the wood, ten little wolves on the run…” He listened as each of the little wolves got distracted from their hunt, until the last little wolf, the only one who didn’t get distracted, brought his prey back to his parents. If he’d ever doubted that Holland would make a good bearer—and he hadn’t—this would have erased his fears. As it was, his certainty of the rightness of his choice grew firmer and he closed his eyes and breathed deeply of Holland’s scent as Holland sang about the night sky watching over the pack’s babies. He hoped it was true.
Finally, the song ended.
“They’re asleep,” Bax said quietly. “I’m sorry to interrupt your night away.”
“No, it’s okay. I missed them.” Holland rolled over and pillowed his head on Quin’s shoulder. “Thank you for looking after them, Bax.”
“I don’t mind. It’s nice to just put two pups to bed, instead of five.” Quin could hear the mischief in his voice. “I’m going to leave them in your bed for tonight. I’ll put some pillows down on the floor in case someone rolls out of bed.”
“They should be fine—I’ve never noticed them flailing around much.”
“I’ll do it anyway, just in case. You two enjoy your night.” He hung up, and then Quin was alone with Holland again.
Holland put the phone away with a thoughtful, contented expression on his face. He turned back to Quin and ran his fingers through Quin’s hair. “Crazy pups.”
“You’re so good with them.” Quin kissed him lightly.
“So are you.” Holland kissed him back, and their previous passion returned, muted and quieter, but deeper as well. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
* * *
Iwokethe next morning utterly content, surprisingly well rested, and my muscles slack with happiness. We’d taken advantage of our puppiless state and made love over and over through the night, pausing only to sleep briefly before beginning again. I checked my phone—it was late. Really late. Good thing I didn’t have to be anywhere until afternoon.
The bed was empty beside me, the sheets holding barely the ghost of Quin’s warmth. When I sat up, I noticed his clothes had been picked up and his shoes were gone. Now, where was he? Easy enough to find out—I called him. “Hey, where’d you disappear to?”
“When to hunt breakfast down for you,” he said, laughing. “I’ll be back in about ten minutes.”
As soon as he said the words, my stomach began to gurgle. “Good,” I told him. “I’m starving.”
“Won’t be long. And you had a call while you were asleep, the designer. He’s coming over to join us for breakfast.”
