Page 82 of In Deep
The man attempts to hold his ground, meeting Seb’s fierce eyes at first, but soon he submits, his gaze falling to the ground. “We know,” he mumbles.
“And you think my whole pack won’t come for you if you try messing with me, if you attempt to touch our omega?”
“She’s not yours, dude,” the last one says, he’s a little taller, his head shaved and studs running down the lobe of both ears. “She’s not claimed.”
“We all know that makes no difference. If I say she’s mine, then she is.”
“And what does she want?” the man attempts to catch my eyes. “Hey little omega, what do you want? Wanna get fucked? By us all?”
Despite my fear, a little whimper escapes my throat, unbound and unwanted, and the pain in my gut sears deeper.
“She’s so fucking ripe,” the first one moans, “I can taste it in the air.”
“We can share her,” the pierced one suggests, appealing to Seb. “She’s in heat, she’s not going to give a shit.”
Heat?
I stare up at Seb, my gland throbbing violently as the dominance of his scent floods my nostrils.
I don’t understand. It can’t be.
Seb swipes at the pierced man, who darts backwards, narrowly missing a fist to his jaw.
Then Seb snarls, his lips pulling back taut over his grinding teeth, his brow tugged low over eyes that burn. The noise is animalistic, raw and unforgiving. My legs buckle and only Seb’s grip keeps me on my feet.
“Fuck off!” he snaps. “I’m giving you to the count of five.” The three alphas look at one another, obviously assessing their chances. “One,” Seb growls.
The first alpha shakes his head and backs away.
“Come on,” the pierced man calls to him. “We can take this motherfucker.”
“Two,” Seb hisses.
The second alpha strides away too. It’s only the pierced one left. He gives me one last lustful glance, forcing another snarl from Seb, and then he spins and hurries after his friend.
Seb watches them go, his body remaining tense until they’re out of sight. Then his countenance softens slightly. He curls me against his chest, cradling my head.
“It’s OK now, Omega.”
I rub my face against his shirt, breathing in needy lungfuls of his scent, my eyes lulling in their sockets and my gland buzzing.
“Alpha,” I murmur. I’m drenched in sweat, soaked between my legs, a sticky mess. But my head is so hazy, I barely register anything but the strong body wrapped around mine.
“Come on, let’s get you home.”
“Nest,” I say. I want to be in a nest, somewhere soft and warm and safe. Somewhere I can be rutted and knotted. More wetness floods from me at the thought. I’d been plenty wet over the weeks I spent with Seb’s pack, but nothing like this. Is this really my heat? I rub my forehead. “I want a nest.”
“Yes,” he says, “I’ll take you home to your nest.”
“Don’t have one,” I mumble.
He tuts in annoyance, and instinctively, I shrink away. “You don’t have one?”
“No.” The tears start now. I’m tired and hot and the pain in my gut … They spill from my eyes and run down my cheeks. “Take me to your nest,” I sob.
He’s silent. Thinking. The tears fall harder. He’s going to say no. I know it. He doesn’t want me. He’s never wanted me. And now I’m a disgusting, sticky mess, he wants me even less.
“OK,” he says simply, and before I know it, he’s scooped me up easily in his arms and is striding along the path in the opposite direction to the other alphas. “Need to get you somewhere safe,” he mutters, more to himself than to me, as I nestle my head into the crook of his arm, “before your scent has every slimeball alpha out here hunting you down.”
