I planted seeds of distrust between two of the guards, but I know that won’t be enough for me to break out of here. Not really. Even if they kill each other, there’ll still be dozens of other guards I’ll need to take on in order to escape.
My mind froths, ideas racing each other, and I try to think back to all the classes I took at Eros Academy.
What other strategies can I implement?
I don’t have a weapon, but that doesn’t mean I’m defenseless. What I do have is…well…
Omega pheromones.
A breeze glides up the side of my face, and I open my eyes. Staring upward, I see there’s an air vent right overhead. No, not an air vent…a return, which pulls air in instead of blowing it out.
I suck in a shuddering breath, the racing of my mind slamming to an abrupt stop as an idea occurs to me.
Could I…?
No, it’s absurd to even consider.
Yet…
My stomach turns over itself, flipping like pancakes on a griddle, and I bite down on my lower lip hard enough to draw blood. This could either be exactly what I need to cause enough chaos for me to slip away, or it could end in disaster. Who knows what the alphas will do to me?
Tears prick my eyes.
Do I even have a choice?
How long do I have until they return?
A while, I imagine. No one wants to be around a beat-up, vomiting omega.
Fuck, I’m doing this, aren’t I?
Hesitantly, trying to ignore the fine tremor rattling through my bones, I slide my hand up my thigh, under my dress. One of my fingers tentatively touches the edge of my panties.
This is going to be fucking hard. I’m dry as a bone—kidnapping and torture will do that to a lady—but I need to be anythingbutdry if I have any hope of putting my plan into place.
I close my eyes and try to imagine I’m somewhere else, anywhere else.
I think of my guys’ tiny cottage on the edge of campus, their combined scents perfuming the air. Energy surges through me like a lightning bolt. When I suck in a breath, it’s almost as if I can taste them. My mates.
Yes…
I carefully push my underwear to the side and allow one finger to tease my slit.
I picture Colter’s masked face and his gentle hands as they cradle my cheeks, his rumbling voice rasping out, “Baby,” in a way that never fails to make me feel out of control. In this daydream, lips surrounded by stubble brush across my neck and then inch upwards, across my cheek, to the corner of my mouth. Ridge.
I turn toward him fully, and he greedily, hungrily, obsessively claims my lips with his. When his tongue prods the seam of my lips, I open for him, wanting more. Wanting everything he’d be willing to offer me, and then some.
A third pair of hands fondles my breasts—where did my clothes go?—and long, skilled fingers tweak my aching nipples. Luka. A second later, his mouth replaces one hand, his tongue flicking out to taste the aching nub.
“Brylee…” Kylian rasps from somewhere behind me, and the length of his body brushes against my own from behind.
He lifts one of his legs and pushes his knee between my thighs. I shamelessly begin to grind myself against him.
“Oh god.” In real life, I move my fingers even faster, thrusting in and out of my pussy, flicking at my clit.
In my fantasy…
I feel hands, lips, and body parts everywhere. I want to touch them, taste them, feel them inside of me.
