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The larger of the two sighed and shook his dark head. “She’s almost done.” His voice was tight, and I dragged my gaze up his muscular frame until I met his green eyes. A muscle in his jaw thrummed, and I got the distinct feeling he was pissed.
Another moan scratched out of my throat, and I hated myself for letting it slip.
Jordan laughed. “I think she wants you, Morris.”
I turned my head away, humiliation crushing my insides.
I blamed my damned heat.
Except I’d been sort of harboring a crush on Morris for two weeks now. Ever since he’d been assigned to my guard rotation by the High Alpha. While he never crossed a line, he was one of the few people to treat me like an actual human being. Like I was more than just my omega designation or another wife for the High Alpha.
Other than Logan, he was the only one who occasionally slipped and used my real name.
It was pathetic how little it took for me to form a crush. One man, who was technically my jailer, treated me with a modicum of respect, combining it with a nice smile, and my inner omega was doing pirouettes and preening like a peacock, hoping for a flash of a smile or a word of praise.
Okay, fine, he was also stupid gorgeous with dark chestnut brown hair, dark green eyes, and muscles upon muscles. Seriously, the man looked more alpha than half the alphas here, and he was a beta.
“How can you tell the bitch is close to finished?” Jordan spoke about me as if I wasn’t a person. As if I was just another piece of used, battered furniture in the forgotten room.
Morris jerked his chin in my direction, his jaw tight even as his gaze was clinical. “Her skin isn’t as flushed, so her heat is receding. She’s also aware that we’re here. Aren’t you, Hazel?” His voice softened as he spoke my name.
My jaw clenched, but another noise rattled in my raw throat. My name on his full lips was too much. I couldn’t stop from imagining what it would sound like whispered against my skin as he?—
A fresh gush of slick seeped out of me, making the already pungent room damn near unbearable.
Fucking hell, Hazel, I seethed to myself. I hated these damn omega hormones. It wasn’t fair that my entire life had been reduced to a single thing because I’d presented as an omega.
Jordan laughed, the caustic sound grating my nerves. “I told you—her pussy’s dripping.” He leered at me and cupped his crotch. “Want some of this, omega? Greedy little cumslut. Practically begging for my cock.”
“Fuck. You.” I barely managed to grit the words out around my clenched teeth.
Black eyes blazing, Jordan crossed the room and slapped the inside of my thigh. The biting flash of pain ricocheted through me, my back arching off the bed as I wantonly chased his touch. Any touch. My core clenched with aching emptiness, more slick pooling beneath me.
Scoffing, he looked down at me, and I could only imagine what he saw. The way my broken body was secured spread-eagle to the bed in nothing more than a thin nightgown, probably see-through now after days of sweating through it. I could feel it had bunched around my waist, baring my lower half to their gazes.
I hated the hungry, depraved look in his eyes, but not nearly as much as I hated myself for wanting his touch.
Fucking omega biology.
The only thing I craved right now was touch, sex. Preferably the knot of an alpha to calm the vicious clenching of my womb. But in this state? My body would settle for the lecherous abuse of this damned beta.
I hated that I’d been reduced to nothing but primal need and want.
“Omega bitch,” Jordan muttered at me, even as he reached for me again. “I wonder if she tastes as good as she smells. They say omega slick is like drinking the sweetest nectar.”
“Stop.” Morris’s voice cracked through the space, his own beta tone nowhere close to an alpha bark, but no less effective in the moment. It was enough to make me freeze. But more importantly, it made Jordan scowl and step back.
“She’s not ours to touch… or correct,” Morris reminded him, his tone arctic as his green eyes flashed.
This was why I was here, chained to the damn bed.
I was being trained. Because what better way to bitch-slap an omega into place than by driving her absolutely feral with need and withholding the thing she needed more than oxygen to survive?
I’d known for years now that I was destined to be the fifth wife of the High Alpha. His first omega bride.
But first I had to be trained. Broken.
Cleansed by the fire of my heat.
