“You have to stop.” It didn’t matter that Shiloh was turned on by him. Didn’t matter how good this felt. “You don’t understand.”
This wasn’t real. The omega had misinterpreted his feelings because of what happened between them in the past. The traumatic way they’d met.
The even more traumatic way the life-bond had been formed.
Even if Shiloh couldn’t consciously remember, that didn’t mean he was unaffected. He’d feel this connection between them, but he couldn’t properly identify it. His omega instinctshad twisted it into lust, convincing him that he wanted something with Sarang that he otherwise wouldn’t.
Sarang had no idea how a bond between a Gray and an omega really worked, but he knew better than to wish for things he was unworthy of, and this? A prince?
“Stop, Shiloh. Before—” He cut himself off, fearing that if he said it out loud, he’d well and truly lose control. Already it was taking everything in him not to give in. Not to take advantage.
Yes, he’d been tricked into believing Shiloh was a naïve and helpless omega when that clearly wasn’t the case, but even then, there’d only ever been one occasion where Sarang had feared Shiloh would actually break.
The day they’d rescued him from the breeding den.
He’d been hollow. Awake, but mentally somewhere else. He hadn’t made a sound when Sarang had cut him loose from the dirty ropes keeping him contained. Hadn’t so much as twitched when he’d lifted him and carried him out of the building, past the slaughter of those who’d wronged him.
It’d been three days before Shiloh had spoken again. That type of trauma couldn’t be faked, no matter what other lies he’d told. Shiloh had felt powerless and defiled—and been powerless and defiled—and it had almost destroyed him.
How could Sarang knowingly put him through that again?
It wasn’t the same, but it was similar enough.
“I have to tell you something.” Sarang bit his tongue when Shiloh took him as deep as he could go and undulated his hips. “Prince, please.”
“You’re mine, alpha. You’ve always been mine.”
That was true, however…
“Shiloh.”
“Doesn’t this feel familiar yet?”
Sarang frowned.
“Should I say the words you liked to hear so much?” He hummed. “Would that help jog your memory?”
He had no clue what he was talking about. His implications were obvious, but there was no way Sarang would have forgotten if the two of them had ever—
Shiloh leaned in, running the tip of his nose across Sarang’s jawline, until his lips brushed against the curve of his ear. “I’m him.”
What?
What did that—
“No.” Sarang pulled away as best he could, needing to see his face.
Shiloh smirked, a less vicious look than before, but that probably had more to do with the fact that he felt like he’d won, what with his hole stuffed with cock and Sarang caught between him and the half wall.
His latest rut was a mess of bits and pieces of recollection, nothing longer than a snippet here and there, more sensation than anything since it’d been too dark to see. But Sarang recalled the feeling. The rightness of it all.
The relief he’d felt over finding a suitable replacement.
The undeserved grief that came with it from knowing he’d finally have to let Shiloh go.
He sniffed, but the scent of the omega didn’t help answer any questions, because that night, that stranger had smelled a lot like Shiloh as well, and—
“The power outage.” It was so simple and yet so convoluted that Sarang thought for sure he was mistaken.
