I said it once to Brayden, and I’ll never make that mistake again.
“Such a pretty omega,” Knox rasps, voice low and rough like it’s been dragged over gravel.
The heap of tangled blankets cradles my back, but there’s nothing soft about the way this alpha hovers above me—his shoulders form a cage, his weight pressing the air from the tiny tent. His scent clings thick and suffocating, flooding my head, making it hard to think.
Do it, I tell myself.Look at him.
Forcing my eyes to focus through the fog in my head, I look up, then swallow hard—his blown pupils swallow up the light, the sharp line of his jaw twitches, and the vein in his neck pounds like a drumbeat. He’s not just looking at me. He’sconsumingme with his eyes.
He’s clearly gone.
Lost to whatever alpha instinct is ripping through him. There’s nothing but need in him now—raw and brutal. And there’s no getting out of this.
He’s a mighty alpha, and I’m a weak omega.
He decides where I go. What I say. Do. Wear. Eat.
And when we have sex.
I’m just a vessel for him to take out his aggression on.
“Fuck, you smell good.” Knox’s deep voice pulls me from my thoughts as he drags his nose from my shoulder all the way up to the side of my jaw. My body tenses, going still on instinct as he shifts so we’re face to face, his breath ghosting over my lips like a warning.
My pathetic pulse skyrockets, and a whine slips from my throat before I can stop it. I swallow hard, throat tight, trying to choke it back—but it’s too late. He heard it.
Knox stills. His head tilts, barely, and he draws back a fraction—just enough to meet my eyes. His brows pull tight with confusion. “What did you say?” he murmurs, voice low and husky.
I try to answer, but my thoughts are slow, syrup-thick and drifting. Everything is still too fuzzy. My body is burning up, but my skin prickles with cold. It’s too much—the rustle of the tent in the wind feels like thunder as Knox’s big body looms over me. Even his scent sticks in my nose like glue. I can't breathe past it.
Just let it happen, I whisper in my head.
“Nothing,” I mumble as I shake my head. Not in refusal. Just... shaking. Then I close my eyes and brace myself for the worst.
Knox’s hands drift from my face, trailing down the sides of my neck and over my shoulders. His touch is warm, heavy with intent but still gentle—like he’s taking his time, like he wants me to feel every second of this.
I wish he’d get it over with.
He grazes down my arms, fingers brushing lightly over the fine hairs, raising goosebumps. Even through the lingering fog in my mind, every inch of skin he touches sparks with awareness.
When he reaches my wrists, he pauses, cradling them in his hands for a breath before guiding them up, placing them above my head on the nest of blankets. Not to restrain me. Just to place me…I think.
Then his eyes meet mine, almost as if he’s checking on me, and something in his gaze quiets the last tremble in my chest.
When I don’t say anything, his hands move again, slower this time, gliding down my arms and over my ribs. Ishiver as his palms mold to the curves of my body, tracing the shape of me like he’s memorizing it.
When he reaches my chest, he pauses, his thumbs sweeping softly under the weight of my breasts before he cups them fully in both hands.
A soft gasp escapes me.
His palms are warm, calloused, reverent.
He brushes his thumbs over my nipples, slow and feather-light, and the sensation has me arching just barely into his touch.
I shouldn’t like this. But he’s so careful with me.
It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
Leaning in, Knox presses his lips to the hollow of my throat. His lips press against the edge of my bandage, moving carefully to avoid it. I feel his breath as he exhales there, steady and hot.
