“You’ve been in there for a straight seventy-two hours, General,” Ethan helpfully informs me again.
The fucker is probably gloating at how the mighty Zeus lost all track of time buried in his omega’s sweet pussy.
Not any omega. I’d been wrapped up in my mate for three days. Which is understandable, even for a bastard like me. It takes months to consolidate a mating bond. I could be forgiven a few days. Not. Nothing comes between me and my plans to take over the Scots.
I square my shoulders. A better man would explain to her why it is important that I have to leave, and that I won’t take too long. That I’ll be back before she has a chance to fret and miss me.
She pushes at me, and I loosen my arms from around her. She moves away and her breasts sway. The rounded flesh is reddened from my ministrations. Her dark-pink nipples swell under my gaze. A shudder of heat tightens my gut. Perhaps I should stay with her, bring her down from the high of the mating before I leave. Yeah, a considerate alpha would do that. Which I am not.
“How long do your heat cycles last?”
She swallows then, some more of the haze from her eyes clearing, and it makes me want to cover her body with mine and fuck her all over again, until that dazed, dilated look is permanently etched in her eyes. The sheer primal need of it thickens my shaft which is still inside her.
As if sensing my need, a fresh stream of slick shivers down her thigh.
“Answer me.” I’d wanted to be curt, but the words had come out almost soft.
“Three.” She shakes her head as if to clear it. “Perhaps four days.”
So she’s almost at the end of her heat cycle. A surge of something suspiciously like relief lightens my chest. Nope, that can’t be right.
Why should it matter to me that she should be able to cope fine when I leave her? Why does a part of me want her to miss me? And the fact that when I return, she’ll still be here waiting for me? I need to hurry and get the meeting over with.
I really should leave right now.
She shifts in my arms. Her hair flows over her shoulder, and I can’t stop myself winding it around my palm.
She bites her lip.
I bury my nose in her neck and draw in that sweet, sugary scent of hers, laced with that deeper, spicier tang of me.
The bond in my chest writhes. I stiffen. The mating bond. I rub the skin over my heart, trying to settle the restless ball of heat lurking under my ribcage.
I’d known what I was doing when I’d marked her.
Had decided as soon as I’d set eyes on her that I was going to claim her, so why does this reminder of what she is confuse me?
Why do I want to hold her close and explain why I must leave her, just for a little while?
I pull out of her and my dick slides out with a wet plop. Liquid gushes out of her pussy and sloshes down her inner thigh. My cum. Her juices. The interlaced scent of our joined arousal reeks into the air.
A pulse springs to life at my temples, in my balls, even at the back of my eyelids. Fuck me. What is this omega doing to me?
She gasps and my skin tightens, a jolt of unease crawls down my spine. How am I already so tuned into her? Fuck this. I need to walk away from her, show her she has no influence over me.
I swing my legs over the side.
Rising to my feet, I stalk away from the bed to where I’d disposed of my clothes and slide them on.
Dense clouds of tension roll off her, and I feel her uncertainty tug at me through the bond. She doesn’t say anything. Had I been expecting her to call out to me?
To stop me?
Perhaps ask me to take her again? She doesn’t, and something like disappointment weighs me down. I pull my boots on, then walk out of there.
18
Lucy
I am not sure how long I snoozed for, but the sound of the door opening sweeps through my subconscious mind. I stir and wake up, wondering where I am. The ceiling above is unfamiliar, the bed below me too smooth, too soft. I shudder and take in a breath of air and find it is scented with his fragrance. The beast has left, but his musk is everywhere, on me, in the room.
I turn and crack my eyelids open. My eyelashes are caked. I wipe away whatever is clogging them, knowing it is a mixture of sweat and his cum and our fluids, the fluids he’d dribbled into my mouth that I had swallowed down like it was the last drop of moisture I’d find in the world. The memory of how I’d given myself to him and asked him to take me, all of it crowds in on me.
My body shudders in remembrance of his touch. Slick gathers between my legs. There’s movement in the room, and I know I must sit up, but I can’t. I groan, and my voice comes out all wrong. I can barely swallow.
I need water.
My tongue is so dry it feels swollen and fills my mouth, along with his taste. The salty taste of his skin, the sweet musk of his essence, the sugary, tangy mixture of both fluids…all of it pops goosebumps on my skin. I push myself up against the pillows only to find that every part of me aches. Through half-closed eyes, I see a woman place fresh food and water on the table.
She doesn’t look at me, keeps her eyes averted. “The General has commanded that you eat and drink before he returns.”
“Who are you?” I try to say the words out loud, but of course, nothing emerges.
Before I can repeat myself, she turns and leaves. The door shuts behind her with a soft snick. Whispered words filter through, then the bolts drop into place. I am alone once more. And truth be told, I am relieved. I wouldn’t want anyone else to witness how far I have fallen. That I am here wallowing in the outcome of my mating still in the last throes of my heat cycle, floating in and out. I’d let the General break my cycle and stake his claim on me.
I hadn’t resisted enough.
Yet a part of me insists there is nothing I could have done. I am an omega, and this was bound to happen. He’d taken me so many times I’d lost count. Soon he is going to be back and no doubt he is going to fuck me many times more. A shudder of heat flushes my skin, and my guts twist with apprehension.
I have to resist him.
I must push back. It’ll only make things more difficult for me. But that’s fine. I’ve come this far; I’ve infiltrated the General’s stronghold. Now all I have to do is wait for the opportune moment and try to kill him again. Once that is done, I can return to Kayden, and he will free my clan. My stomach twists. With grief…with hunger.
The scent of food teases my nostrils.
But I shouldn’t eat. I shouldn’t.
I am here being fed, so I can get energy back, no doubt for another mating, while the other omegas must be eagerly waiting for news of my mission.
I need to complete my mission and rescue them.
Straightening my spine, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand. My knees almost buckle. My thigh muscles scream in protest. My left shoulder throbs. A fresh surge of blood drips down my throat. I hold my palm to the wound where he marked me, the wound I don’t want to acknowledge, but the throbbing in my chest responds to the ache.
It’s as if the cord that binds me to that monster recognizes its master.
My body may crave him, may want him, may even acknowledge his dominance, but not my soul. Not my mind. Not my emotions. I know I can hold out on him. When I am not in heat, when I am more myself…when.
The scent of food grows stronger. Sometime in the last few minutes I’ve crossed the floor to the table in my confused state and now I stand in front of the table bearing the tray. I should eat it. I shouldn’t. I can’t. I must. To keep up my strength. To keep myself together. Just until I find a way to kill the monster.
I had been wrong to approach Kayden and agree to his plan. I’d foolishly thought I had a chance. Truth is, I hadn’t been thinking straight. I’d gone with what my instinct said was right. And look where that landed me.
Imprisoned in the den of the monster, in the middle of a heat cycle which twists my guts. Sweat breaks out on my skin and my womb clenches in need
. My teeth chatter, my toes dig into the floor. I am hot and cold all at once. Not good, this is not good. I am going into the home stretch of the heat cycle. The last day is always the worst.
Why isn’t that alpha-hole here when I need him, when I want him to take me and rut me and shove away the pain that taints my insides?
Moaning, I wrap my arm around my middle and reach for the plate, only for it to crash to the floor.
I cry out in anger, in fear, in shame, then drop to my knees, curling up on my side in front of it.
19
Zeus
I stride down the corridor without cleaning myself up. Perhaps I should have showered, but the fact is that I want her scent on me.
I want to show her claiming mark and I am still unsure why. It isn’t that common for omegas to mark their alphas. Rarer still for alphas to flaunt them. But I want to do so.
A sign to them she is mine and off limits to anyone else. She is my mate, the one I chose…the one who chose me.
Or maybe it’s just this primal need inside me to make sure they can smell her on me, feel my satisfaction and know that she waits for me back in my suite.
Not that any of them would dare to touch her, and if anyone dares look at her, I’ll burn out their eyes, I’ll gut them… I’ll—
A touch on my shoulder snaps me out of my thoughts.
“She’s in your head.” I look around to find Ethan standing at my shoulder. His features are calm, his gaze wary.
When I had killed my father and taken his place, Ethan had been the first to pledge his loyalty to me. It still didn’t change the fact that he came from the ruling classes. The same as the alphas who had misused their power and hastened my mother’s death.
“Second.” I stalk to the head of the table.
Ethan drops into the chair on my right.
I glower at the assembled men. “When do we attack Scotland?”
My gaze sweeps the room.
There’s silence, then Solomon leans forward. “It’s not a good idea, General.”
I train my gaze on Sol. “Is that right?” My voice is low and measured.
Solomon pales under his tan.
I’d hand picked him to become my Head of Troops. Not that it matters. As long as he follows my lead, I’ll be tolerant of him.
“Answer me.” My voice rings through the room.
Sol’s gaze flicks to Ethan.
“The timing is not yet right to take on the Scots.” He swallows, then squares his shoulders. “We need to arm the soldiers and train the new recruits. Also need to source more weapons. It’s premature to attack.”
“All of you agree?” I look around the table.
“We are not yet prepared,” Liam growls.
“Care to elaborate?” I thrust out my chest. It’s a subtle act of dominance, warning off the other man, telling him that I am stronger, more powerful than him, and not just physically.
“I am the first to want to wipe out the Scots for their slaughtering my family, but I know the importance of not rushing in.” The tank of an alpha pounds his fist on the table for emphasis. “When we finally attack, I want to do so with all our might. Kill them in one go.”
Well, at least he speaks his mind.
“Anyone else?”
“Since we are all in such a chummy mood,” Ryker drawls from the other side of the table, “perhaps you need to spend time consummating your bond with your omega, get it all out of your system so you are not distracted when we fight the Scots.”
Anger bubbles up, the emotions ripe and thick and coiling through my blood. I taste the need for violence on my tongue, so rich, so strong. “Is that what you’d do if you were in my place?”
Ryker’s shoulders stiffen. He’s one hell of a marksman, the best on my team. Doesn't mean I have to spare him. No one is indispensable, and he knows it. He swallows, then nods.
“You’re right.” I let my lips twist in the semblance of a smirk.
A breath rushes out of Ryker; his shoulders visibly relax.
“That’s the last time I tolerate anyone talking about my omega. No-one is to even glance at her, got it?”
Silence.
I glower around the table, making sure to look each alpha in the eye.
Ryker gets to his feet. “That’s our cue then.” He glides out of the room.
Sol and the other alphas follow.
Well, all except Ethan who stays seated. He brings his fingers together in front of him. A nerve tics at his temple. He sets his jaw. Adamant fucker. He will not leave without having his say, and the frustrating thing is that I am going to let him do just that, too. Fuck! Leaning forward, I brush the dust off his shoulder. “What?”
He doesn’t get the threat inherent in my gesture, or if he does, he chooses to ignore it. Fucker has some balls.
“You count on me to tell the truth.” He holds my gaze.
He’s right, and fuck if that doesn’t infuriate me. Anger heats my blood. “I keep you because you had no other place to go.”
“And isn’t that a fact.” Ethan lowers his palms and drums his fingers on the table. “I was born here; these are my people, and I plan to do my best by them.”
“Your misplaced sense of loyalty will bite you in the ass,” I glower.
“Your trying to hide what you always feel whether it is to your men or to your omega will—”
Only when I feel the rough cloth of Ethan’s collar under my fingers do I realize I’ve closed the space and hauled the slimmer man up to his toes. “I warned you not to talk about her,” I snarl.
“And if I obeyed you every single time you issued a command, I’d be mistaken for a beta.” Ethan’s lips twist.
Annoyingly, he is right again.
Sure, I have an ego, but I also know I don't want to surround myself with men who agree to everything I say. That’s what Golan did, and look what happened to him. A harsh chuckle rolls out of me. “Speak then.” I let go of him.
He crashes into the table, then rights himself. “You should have sent the omega to the harem.” He pauses as if choosing his words with care.
Ethan thinks things through down to the last detail before he takes action. Me? I lead with my gut.
“Go on.” The mating cord nestled under my breastbone throbs. A shudder of awareness rolls down my spine, twining with something else, a faint sense of unease. I rub the skin of my chest above my heart.
“It’s the deal you made with us.” Ethan sets his jaw. “No alpha is allowed to touch omegas without their permission. How do you expect your men to live by your code when you can’t follow it yourself?”
The blood thuds at my temples, my left eyebrow throbs. “I wanted her; I took her.” I lean forward and shove my face close to his. “No one comes near her, until I decide what to do with her.”
His lips tighten. His entire demeanor is one of censure. And I thought when I’d killed off Golan, I’d gotten rid of the ghost of parental disapproval. Fuck this. I don’t owe an explanation to anyone.
“I don’t march to anyone else’s tune or follow anyone else’s timetable, only my own.” I grind my jaw so hard that pain slashes down my throat. “We will attack Scotland and bring Kayden to his knees.”
“We need more time—”
I raise my hand, cutting him off. “We will wait a few more days… Until I have made sure my omega is settled. Then we attack.” I turn to leave.
“We chose you for our leader, Zeus. The underbelly of this city needs to be swept clean of the criminals and the corruption fostered under your father’s rule. You are the only man who can show us the way.”
I pause halfway to the door. A cold feeling rolls in my gut.
He is wrong, so wrong. I’m just the bastard from the wrong side of the tracks who is always on the outside looking in. I believe in only one thing: fighting for myself, for my survival. That is it. Nothing else matters. Not this city. Not the people. Not my Council. Nothing.
I glare at him over my shoulder. “Don’t pat
ronize me.” My voice is deceptively light. Blood thuds at my temples. “Do. You. Understand?”
Ethan’s jaw hardens, then he lowers his gaze. “General.”
I should feel some satisfaction that the other man has submitted, has acknowledged my superiority.
Yet it only leaves a feeling of distaste in my mouth.
The mating bond shudders and pushes up against my chest. Dense waves of fear bleed from the cord. My gut churns.
The omega…she is restless and afraid. She needs me. I stride to the exit and shove the doors open.
20
Lucy
The pain shudders over my skin. My shoulders jerk, and my chest thrusts up and off the floor.
My stomach twists, and I taste the acidic tang of bile. I want to scream, but all that emerges is a whimper.
I moan and curl in on myself.
There is this hunger gnawing at me. It churns at my guts, growing bigger by the second, as if it’s going to tear open my skin and rip out of me at any time. I am hungry, so hungry. And it’s not for food. I want him…need him…to fill me. To shove aside this hollowness that’s drawing me in, threatening to overwhelm me.
I want him throbbing inside me. The thought is so intense I almost imagine he is here, his massive body bent over me, his hard thighs pushing my legs apart, then him slamming into me, burying his brutal length in me, holding me down, folding his body around me, protecting me, taking me, cherishing me. The thought sends heat shooting through my veins. Sweat beads my brow.
My chest heaves.
My breasts ache.
Every part of me screams and begs for his touch.
I want to call out to him. I need to call out to him. The urge is so overwhelming that I feel every last coherent thought trickle out of me, leaving only the pure essence of the omega I am behind.
To be a receiver, to take, the breeder.
Isn’t that what my mother told me? And I had resisted it every step of the way. At least my father, for the short time he’d been around, had encouraged me to fight the urge.
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