Before I can even start, though, he lets out a sigh. “I know,” he says. “You’re right. I was being unfair. This is difficult.”
“What’s so difficult?” I ask. “If you didn’t want to go further with me, you could have just said so. I wasn’t going to flip out on you.”
Although, it suddenly occurs to me, is that what drove him away? What if I did misread his initial intent? What if it was me who made the first move, and he was turned off by my forwardness? That’s happened to me before. Men have felt that I come on too strong. I’ve never cared, because I never cared much about the men in question. But if I pushed Clay away by not being a wallflower...well, that would be a disaster. Clay’s a friend.
His gaze drops. “It wasn’t that,” he says.
“What, then?”
“Of course, I wanted to take it further,” he says. “Could you really not tell?”
“You muddied the waters a little bit when you got up and ran out of camp.”
He reaches a hand out to me, palm up. He doesn’t take my hand. He offers his. “Of course, I want you, Lane,” he says. “I know you can feel what’s between us.”
I hesitate.
Then I take his hand.
And I feel every drop of it.
If someone tried to tell me in this moment that our hearts were breathing in unison, that our lungs were expanding and contracting on the same rhythm, I would believe it. I wouldn’t care at all how trite it sounded. Because something beyond my capacity to understand is happening here. I feel pulled toward Clay, drawn to him. The fact that we aren’t moving toward each other actually hurts.
“What is this?” I whisper. “This isn’t normal.” I’ve been with men before. This is not normal.
“We should take a walk,” Clay says, his fingers threading through mine.
I don’t want to take a walk. A walk is the last thing I want. I want to pull him on top of me, catch his lips with mine, slide my hands up under his shirt...
“Lane,” Clay says, taking my wrists in his hands. “Just wait, okay? I want it, too. But let’s talk first.”
Never in my life has a man said that to me.
It’s incredibly hot.
“Talk first,” I agree, and pull on my shoes. Maybe this walk will help me burn off some of the extra energy that seems to have flooded my body.
ALL MY SENSES ARE HEIGHTENED. I’m aware of the sound of the leaves rustling around me, the feel of cool wind on my hot skin, the smell of dirt and Clay beside me. So intense are all my perceptions that I find myself looking down at my hands again and again, reminding myself that I’m still human, that I haven’t slipped up and shifted into my animal self. As an animal, I feel closer to the front of my body, where sensory information hits. It’s like having a layer of skin stripped away, leaving me bare and exposed.
And everything is so much more intense.
I don’t know what I would do if Clay let go of my hand as we walked, but he doesn’t try. He holds on as he tells me about a whole new aspect of my new life, another way my world is never going to be what I expected. Maybe he understood going into this conversation that I would need something to hang on to as I heard this.
“So, let me get this straight,” I say when he’s finished. My voice is faint and my head is spinning, but I don’t ask to stop and sit down. I need to keep moving. “You’ve imprinted on me, and you and I are supposed to be together now?”
“You’re not supposed to do anything,” he says firmly. “You can do whatever you want. But...I’m devoted to you, yes.”
“And that’s why things feel...different? Bigger? Between us?”
“It’s never happened to me before,” he says. “From what I’ve heard, when a man imprints, the woman he imprints upon experiences a physical response, too. She’s more intensely drawn toward him. The whole thing is designed for procreation, and it’s an evolved trait in shifters, but...” he shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “I think it can be kind of nice, too. Being able to experience that depth of passion for another person.”
“But you hardly know me,” I protest. “We’ve known each other for two weeks. Why would you suddenly imprint on me?
“It’s biology,” he says. “We’re compatible.”
“You mean procreatively compatible? We’ll conceive a child?”
“A litter, probably,” he says.
“A litter?” God, I wasn’t ready to hear that.
“There’s something else you should know, Lane,” he says. “Before anything happens between us. Before we take any more steps along this path.”
“There’s more?” How could there be more?
Clay takes a deep breath. “We’re pretty sure that you’re an omega.”
“What the hell is that?”
“Most shifters are betas,” Clay explains. “Each pack can contain only one alpha at a time. And omegas are even rarer. You’re the first one I’ve ever met in my life. Omegas are...well, they’re the pack breeders.”
I tug my hand out of his and step back quickly.
“You need to hear this, Lane,” Clay says. “Nothing has to happen between us. But you need to know. Because omegas are also the most fertile members of the pack, and because of that they’re more likely to be imprinted on. This world isn’t going to be safe for you all the time. I promise, I’ll never hurt you. But there are some who might try. I think you already know that.”
“Wait a minute,” I say. “You mean other people could imprint on me?”
“I mean they almost certainly will,” he says. “According to legends, part of what makes omegas unique is that they can be imprinted on multiple times. That’s not true of betas —if someone imprints on a beta, the match is made and there will never be another imprint for that person. But for you it could happen again and again.”
“That’s...” I hesitate. I don’t know what that is. Looked at one way, it’s frightening —it suggests that everyone I meet will see me as a possible object of not only sex but breeding. But on the other hand, there’s something tantalizing about the idea that I’m biologically programmed to have many different partners. It explains one more piece of the complex puzzle that has been my life so far —why no one has ever really been able to satisfy me sexually, why I’ve always felt the need to pursue more. This is the more I was never able to find.
And Clay is looking at me with concern in his eyes, like he thinks I might run away or break down, like he thinks he’s telling me something unwelcome, but I’m finding to my surprise that there’s relief in in. I’m starting to understand who I am, really understand, for the first time in my life.
And meanwhile he’s still standing there looking tall and impossibly strong and I can almost see the heat coming off his body, and I swear I can smell the scent of him.
I close the distance between us, not breaking eye contact. “You want me,” I say. It’s not really a question. I know he does. I feel it, stretching between us like an invisible elastic band. But I want him to say it.
“God,” he groans. “Like I’ve never wanted anything in my life, Lane. But you have to be sure. If you’re just responding to the hormones, if you haven’t really thought about it —”
I pull his head down and press my lips to his, shutting him up, answering his question. His hands are on me instantly, and it’s as if there’s a dial on us that someone is turning all the way up. The chemistry and the tension increase so fast. His hands are on my back, and then they’re on my waist, and then he’s gathering my wrists in one huge hand and holding them above my head, pinning me firmly but gently against a massive tree trunk, while the other hand slips down my pants.
And I’m moaning and grinding against his palm, coming apart right out here in the open, shocked at how quickly this is happening, feeling like I’m on a roller coaster. He spins me around and yanks my pants down so hard I’m afraid I may have lost a button, but I don’t care, I need more, I need him now —
He bends over me. “Okay?” he breathes, hot aga
inst my ear.
“Fuck me,” I groan, “Now, dammit.”
And he does, driving into me with shocking force, but I’m so turned on that I’m ready for it, bracing my hands against the tree and pushing back to meet each thrust. I lose track of time. I lose track of myself. All I can think is that for the first time in my life, I’m not going to feel frustrated and restless when this is over, because this is everything I’ve ever needed and more.
I come with a cry and go limp, my limbs shaking, unable to hold myself upright anymore, but Clay isn’t finished. He wraps an arm around my waist and one across my chest and continues to fuck into me even as I shake with exhaustion. When he finally comes, it’s with a relieved sort of groan, and he holds me for a long minute before he steps away, turns me in his arms, and helps me get my feet under me.
I’m still shaking. “That was —"
“Yeah,” Clay agrees. He’s shaking too.
Chapter Fifteen
BRUNO
When Mike and I arrive back at the shelter, Lane and Clay are not there.
Mike laughs when I point this out. “Of course, they aren’t!” he says. “What did you think, that they’d be getting it on right here where we’d walk in on them? They went somewhere private, obviously.”
I honestly hadn’t even considered that. “You mean you think they’re already...?”
“Of course, they are,” Mike says. “He imprinted! I mean, I’ve never done it, but whatever it is, it was so powerful that he actually felt the need to get up and run away so he wouldn’t jump her. Once he told her what was going on and she gave consent, they probably didn’t last five minutes.”
I groan and rub my forehead.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Mike asks.
Like I’m going to tell him. “It’s just going to be tough to be around a couple of honeymooners all the time,” I say. “We’re probably going to have to talk about ground rules for the shelter and all kinds of obnoxious things we never had to deal with before.”
“Clay isn’t going to be inappropriate in the shelter,” Mike says. “Lane probably wouldn’t either. I mean, I haven’t known her as long, but she doesn’t seem that inconsiderate to me. I’m sure they’ll keep their little interludes away from camp. Besides, you’re the alpha, so you can just tell us all not to get sexual in the shelter and there will be no more conversation about it.”
“I don’t want to do that,” I say. “You wouldn’t either. I don’t want to talk to Clay about his sex life at all. Come on, talk about uncomfortable.”
“What’s the big deal?” Mike asks.
I am not going to tell him what the big deal is. “It’s just one of those topics you don’t want to talk to your friends about, isn’t it?”
Mike shakes his head. “Maybe, dude, but we’re a pack. We don’t have those lines. We’re supposed to be able to talk about anything. You’re being really weird about this.” He frowns. “And you know what? You were really weird at the river, too. What was all that about Clay needing to decide whether he’s going to leave with Lane or stay with us? What did you say that for?”
I don’t want to look at Mike right now. “She’s always said she’s not planning to stay with us long-term.”
“Okay, but Bruno, come on. You don’t think this might have caused her to rethink her plans?”
What I think is that I don’t know if I can stand to live in a pack with Clay and Lane, now that she’s with him and not me. I don’t know if I can see her every day and know that I’m her alpha and know that if I told her to come to me and kiss me and everything else I’ve let myself imagine, she would have to do it. I would never do that to her, of course. But every day would be an agony of knowing what was possible.
What I say is, “she’s strong willed. And she told us what she wanted. I’m just planning for that outcome.”
“Even if that is still her choice,” Mike says, “you didn’t need to throw that on Clay right now, in the first five minutes of all this, when he’s still figuring everything out. It was kind of mean, honestly. That was the kind of question that could have waited until...you know. Tomorrow, at least.”
“He has to know it’s going to be an issue,” I say.
“He’s not stupid,” Mike says. “He’d have thought of that himself eventually. You really ought to back off and let him process some of this stuff.”
“Back off?” I haven’t been on his case about it. He came to us for advice.
“Ever since he told you he imprinted, you’ve had this look on your face,” Mike says.
“What look?”
Mike hesitates, then pulls his features into a scowl that looks like a cross between concentrating deeply and holding back a shout, and yeah, that’s about how I feel. “It just complicates everything,” I say. “We were just starting to get life figured out again and it’s a whole new wrench in the works.”
“It’s not complicated for us, though,” Mike says.
I turn away and start picking up wood and tossing it onto the pile for our fire.
“Bruno?” Mike asks. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing.”
His voice changes. “Oh. Oh, shit. You’re into Lane, aren’t you?”
“I haven’t imprinted on anybody,” I tell him.
“That’s not what I asked. I’ve seen the way you look at her. I thought it was because we saved her from that prostitution ring and you were worrying about her —”
“I do worry about her,” I snap. “I’m not heartless.”
“I’m not saying that, but it’s been two weeks and she’s totally fine and you’re still doing it and I never wondered why. God, I’m an idiot.” He shakes his head. “You wanted her.”
“Doesn’t matter what I wanted.”
“What does that mean?”
“You think I wanted to wake up one day and find myself alpha? This life, being a shifter, it’s not about what we want for ourselves. It’s about what’s best for the pack. Clay imprinted on Lane because he’s got the best shot at breeding with her and creating a healthy new generation for our pack.”
“Come on, man,” Mike says. “You’re starting to sound like Harlan.”
I freeze. “What the hell?”
“I know this alpha stuff has been hard on you,” Mike says. “But don’t you remember how Harlan used to talk to us? It was like he never felt any real emotion. He was almost mechanical. Remember when he showed us that prostitute he’d bought and he just stood there talking about her economic benefits right in front of her like she couldn’t even hear him? That was cold.”
“You’re not saying I would —”
“Of course, I’m not,” Mike cuts me off. “I know you’re not completely devoid of morals. But in a way, this is the same. You’ve got feelings for Lane, but you’re acting like the only thing that matters is the good of the pack. You’re acting like you can reason your way out of it.”
“What do you want me to do?” I ask him. “Mope around about it? There’s nothing I can do. Clay imprinted. That’s bigger than anything I’ve got going on. You know that. It’s just the human part of me that...okay, that’s into her.” Even now, I struggle to admit it out loud.
Mike sighs. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
I don’t want to be right. I wanted Mike to come up with a way I was wrong about all this, to tell me that it didn’t really matter who had imprinted and that my feelings were just as big and just as valid as Clay’s. I wanted him to tell me there was a real possibility that Lane might still be interested in me.
I didn’t realize until right now, with the disappointment crashing down around me, that that’s what I was hoping for.
Suddenly, I can’t stand to be here in this clearing anymore, knowing that Lane and Clay are going to come back any minute and that they’re going to be all loved up and happy. I feel knotted up inside. I feel horrible. This is my best friend, my brother, and the girl I claim to have feelings for. I should want them to be happy. I do
want them to be happy.
I just hate that I can’t have any part of it.
I feel selfish, horrible and sick inside as I walk away from camp, leaving Mike alone. Maybe I am like Harlan. Maybe I only care about what I want and the needs and feelings of others are secondary to me. Ever since we ran away, I’ve been lamenting what the Hell’s Bears have come to. I’ve been mourning the loss of an institution I was once so proud of. But maybe this is what the Hell’s Bears have always been. Maybe we’ve always been selfish and hedonistic and Harlan was just the most extreme example of that. At my core, am I really any better?
I stay away as long as I can. I dread going back, seeing my friends happy together, trying to conceal my feelings with Mike looking on and knowing exactly what I’m going through. If I could, I would stay in the woods all night, far from the campsite, in my bear form where emotions are less complicated and all I need to worry about is food and shelter. There’s never been a more tempting time to just be a bear, to escape everything that goes along with being human.
But I can’t. I can’t run from my family. They’d worry when I didn’t come back. They might even be afraid I’d abandoned them. It’s not like I don’t have a history of leaving my pack when things aren’t going the way I want. I can’t walk away from them now. Not over something like this. As much as it’s going to hurt me, as hard as it’s going to be, I know I have to stick around and deal with it.
By the time I get back to the campsite, Clay and Lane are there too. I was afraid I’d walk in on them in each other’s arms and feel every inch of how much I’m not a part of this new dynamic, but Mike seems to have taken pity on me. It makes me feel sort of humiliated, but I’m also grateful to him, because he’s taken Lane aside and is helping her scale a fish. Clay is on his back in the shelter, passed out. I guess he’s had a pretty busy afternoon.
I swallow my pride, press down my anxiety, and do my best to walk into camp like nothing’s wrong. “How’s dinner coming?”
The Hidden Omega Page 9