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I wake to the slide of cold metal on my neck and a heavy weight settling over my body. I’m confused at first, but when I inhale a deep breath of sea salt, sunshine and coconut, it sinks in.
My eyes flutter open, my heart pounding in my chest.
There is a man laying on top of me, pinning me to the bed under my blankets.
I should scream or fight or do something. Screaming should, in theory, bring the men upstairs to my rescue, unless Maddox decided he’d rather just kill me than deal with me being bonded into his pack. I wouldn’t put it past him, seeing as he’s head of the Falcone pack. The death of an omega at their hands, and not even a real omega, isn’t out of the realm of possibility.
“Shh, cherrybomb,” he whispers, lips hovering just over mine. “Shh, you’re okay.”
I relax, believing him even though I have no fucking reason to. But then, something cold and hard and sharp drags over my neck, opposite the side of the mating mark, and I’m tense all over again.
“Did Luca bite you, baby?” he murmurs, mouth still hovering just over mine. “Did he knot you and claim you for our pack?”
I swallow carefully, worried if I move too much, the knife pressed into my skin will slice me right open. My heart’s pounding in my chest and my clit is pounding between my legs and I have no fucking clue why that would be. It’s not like I’ve ever thought a madman brandishing a knife at me would turn me on.
But then, he smells like mine. I thought it from the first inhale of his rum soaked beach scent at Bonheur.
He chuckles against my mouth, and I swear it takes everything in me not to lunge up and swallow the sound. Well, everything and the knife pressed against my neck. “What’s your name, cherrybomb?”
My tongue darts out to wet my lips, and I maybe sort of accidentally lick his plump bottom lip as well. He tastes fucking amazing and there’s no stopping the groan that falls from my chest.
“Your name, omega,” he rumbles out, voice sounding heavy with lust.
“Sadie,” I manage to squeeze out.
“Sadie.” I feel his mouth curve into a smile against mine as he tries out my name. “Sadie. Sadie. My name is Swift.”
“Swift,” I breathe and he groans.
“That sounds so fucking good coming from my little cherrybomb.” He rolls his hips against mine, grinding his hard cock against my soft belly. I whimper. He groans again. The knife scrapes against my skin, just enough for me to feel it, but not enough for it to hurt. My perfume floods the room and Swift lets out another dark chuckle.
“Filthy little omega. This turns you on, doesn’t it? Waking up to your alpha pressed against you, a knife to your throat, no clue what I’m gonna do with it.” His lips brush over mine with every word out of his mouth. “That fear, that uncertainty, it makes you so slick, doesn’t it, cherrybomb? Fucking perfect.”
He pulls back a little, and I can feel his eyes on me, but I can’t see him. I have the brief thought that maybe an alpha’s vision is better in the dark like a predator, but then all thought flees as he brushes his lips over mine, softly, so fucking softly.
He groans, pulls back and then dives in again, hard this time, more insistent. More like I’d expect an alpha to kiss. Like his lips are claiming mine, like I belong to him and he’s proving it to me, to himself, to the world.
The blade slides away from my neck and I don’t know if it’s because he’s sure I know my place is under him, or if he’s just lost in the fog of desire created by our mouths and tongues meeting. Maybe it’s both.
“Mm.” His nose nuzzles into the place where his knife just was. “Smells like mine.” I gasp and my back arches involuntarily when his tongue darts out to lick the spot. “Tastes like mine too.”
A breath shudders out of me, shaking and strangely heated.
He shifts, sitting up in a move too fast for me to follow, until he’s straddling my hips, his weight still pinning me to the bed, cock hard and straining against the fly of his jeans. I blink up at him, not following the movement of his arm in the dark, but a second later, the fabric over my chest parts and the rush of cool air makes my nipples pucker even more than they were before.
He groans and trails his knife between my breast bending to follow the path with his tongue. He drags the knife up in a swirl around the swell of my breast to my nipple where it pricks just the right amount, not enough to draw blood, but enough for me to feel it.
I swear I hear a smile in his voice when he says, “my filthy little omega loves this, doesn’t she?”
I shake my head to deny it, because I never in a million years thought I would be into knife play. I’ve read about it, sure. Who hasn’t? Sylvie has introduced me to some positively filthy smut. But I could never imagine getting off on it in real life.
“No,” I say, even as my body makes a liar out of me, dripping slick, soaking my panties and the sheet under me.
Being an omega fucking sucks.
He chuckles. “It’s okay if you like it, Cherrybomb. I like it too. Gets me so fucking hard.” He rolls his hips forward, grinding his cock into the soft flesh of my belly, before he slides down my body, nestling his shoulders between my spread thighs.
The tip of the knife drags down, circles my navel in a teasing way, making goosebumps erupt on my flesh as the sensation tickles over my skin. I feel him turn the blade flat, feel him slide it under the fabric of my panties and slices first one side and then the other before he rips the fabric away and I’m exposed to him, wet and dripping with need.
