Page 107 of In Deep
There are no words. Only ragged breaths and raised scents.
We know what this is. We all know what this is.
Seb crashes through the doors of the ballroom and out through the lobby.
The hotel sits alongside the river on which they raced. It shimmers in front of us now as we hurtle out into the night.
“This way,” Seb grunts, his pace increasing so that I’m trotting behind him, stumbling in my heels.
But no one asks him to slow, not even me. I want us to arrive. I want us to arrive wherever we are going as quickly as we can.
We snake along the darkened river, until Seb swerves, pulling us in his wake, up the bank to an old boathouse, the door missing, its belly empty. Grass has infiltrated the building, soft beneath our feet, and the hulk of an old boat rests near one wall.
Seb halts, swinging around to face us all.
“We’re going to do this? Now?”
It’s not a question for me. It’s a question for his pack mates. His eyes flick from one to the other, first Ollie, then Zane and then Duncan, and one by one they nod.
“We’re going to make her ours.”
Duncan growls and I shake so hard I can barely stand.
This is it. The moment.
The moment all others have been leading to.
We’ve reached the crossroads. After this, there can be no turning back. We’ll be bonded together for life.
Seb reaches for my throat, forcing my chin up with the nudge of his wrist.
He is all alpha. Monster. Power. Mate.
“Are you certain, Omega?” His voice is so deep it seems to reverberate off the damp walls. His eyes are dark, but I can see the outline of his face, painted silver by the moon behind us.
“Yes,” I say, meeting his gaze. Then I grip his wrist with both my hands. “Claim me.”
And in that moment, it snaps.
Everything.
We are no longer the civilised peoples of our century. We are our ancestors. Instinct. Adrenaline. Life. Death. Sex.
We are four alphas and one omega. All pretence that we are anything else evaporates.
“Pin her against the wall,” Seb grunts and hands scrabble at me, grabbing my wrists and my arms, my shoulders and my waist. I’m manhandled deeper into the boathouse, thrust into the shadows and held against the wall, my cheek pressing into the damp wood. Then my dress is ripped away, followed by my underwear and the cold air nips at my skin.
I shiver.
“Are you frightened, Omega?” Seb asks by my ear.
I have no words. I wriggle my arse against him, trying to lower my head and expose the back of my neck.
A rough hand squeezes my arse cheek and I mewl, slick dribbling from between my thighs.
“She’s ready,” a voice says, and I squirm some more, trying to break free of the grasps and find one of my alphas.
Another hand slaps my arse cheek and I freeze. “Still omega.”
