Page 17 of Puck Your Bunny

Wally reaches for the brass handle and turns it, pushing the door open. The scent rushes out even stronger than before. Praying for control is my last defense. She needs help right now, not an Alpha slipping into a rut.

Chapter 7

The fever bakes my brain inside my skull. Curling into a tight ball on the bare mattress, my fingernails dig brutal half-moons into the palms of my hands. Every nerve ending in my body screams for an Alpha. The agony of the bond rejection twists my stomach into tight knots. A relentless, hollow ache radiates through my chest, making it hard to catch a single breath. Thrashing against the mattress, I surrender to the terrifying delirium of a spontaneous heat.

The old hinges whine as the thick wooden door swings open. Bright, blinding sunlight spills into the stifling darkness of the workshop. The sudden light burns my sensitive eyes. Squinting through the glare reveals Emmett and Hale standing right there in the doorway.

"Emmett." My shaking hand reaches toward the tallest figure. "Hale. Please. Help me."

Sobs tear out of my throat, raking against my vocal cords like sandpaper. The pathetic, broken sound ignores my pride. My body just wants my Alphas. I crave the men who used to make this pain disappear.

"Please knot me. Make the pain stop. I need you."

The men step inside the workshop. The thick door slams shut, plunging the space back into dim, dusty shadows. One of the figures moves to the wall and pulls down a piece of cardboard taped over a small window. Pale afternoon light spills across the swept floorboards. The sudden light makes me squint again.

A clean, distinct scent cuts right through the stale air. Sea breeze mixed with bergamot, amber, and leather. It hits the back of my throat and acts like a bucket of ice water to my face. The ghosts of my past vanish.

Blinking the tears away clears my vision just enough to see three men standing at the edge of the mattress.

Wally Nelson. Kel Lars. Simon Clark.

My fever-baked brain scrambles to process the sight. The brutal sex dream from this morning bleeds right into the delirium. My heat plays a cruel trick, swapping my old pack for the strangers from the arena. I must be asleep again. Sinking into the dream is my only escape from the pain.

Wally stands in the middle. A thick mop of dark, wavy curls falls over his forehead, framing his olive skin and soulful dark brown eyes.

Kel flanks him on the left. He stands as an intimidating wall of muscle with black hair pulled back into a man-bun, the sides shaved close to his scalp. His jawline is chiseled, and tattoos peek out from his collar. His piercing gray eyes stare straight into my soul.

Simon takes the right side. His lean, agile frame carries medium-length copper hair swept back, and his mischievous green eyes dilate with need.

My hands grip the bare mattress. The overwhelming relief of their perfect scent matches fills my lungs. Bergamot, leather, amber, and sea breeze wrap around me in a solid, undeniable wave.

The fever weaves a flawless, vivid fantasy to save me from the pain. My Omega instincts welcome the dream, demanding absolute relief. The empty ache in my core throbs with a vicious pulse. If my dying brain wants to gift me a flawless fantasy, I plan to wring every ounce of pleasure from it.

Wally drops to his knees right on the edge of the mattress and pulls me into his lap.

Alphas run hot, making Wally a literal furnace. The cool spring air still clings to his clothes. The solid weight of his arms around my waist makes the dream feel so real. The clash of his blistering body heat sinking into my skin provides the exact relief my Omega instincts crave. Collapsing against his chest, my face buries in the crook of his neck to inhale his deep, rich scent. A broken whine vibrates in my throat.

Kel and Simon step closer. They strip off their light jackets and toss them onto the floorboards. The movement releases another wave of their Alpha pheromones into the room.

Wally cups my cheek, his thumb brushing my skin to force me to meet his dark gaze. "Vayda, look at me. Is this what you want? Can we help you?"

His dark eyes lock with mine. The desperate need radiates off his skin in waves. His chest heaves against mine as we wait for my permission.

A tiny, guilty voice in the back of my head screams betrayal, demanding loyalty to my real pack. The raging fever in my blood snuffs that thought out. It is just a fantasy. A desperate illusioncooked up by my brain to offer comfort. Guilt holds zero power in a dream.

Three years of pent-up need breaks loose. Uninhibited hunger takes control. My hands reach up to grip the fabric of his t-shirt. I pull him closer, my entire body trembling with the need to be claimed.

"Please, yes. I need you." Reaching down, I grab the hem of my oversized t-shirt and yank it over his head. The cool air of the shed hits my bare skin. A full-body shiver racks my spine. Tossing the shirt aside offers my exposed chest to his dark gaze.

Wally grips my waist and guides me down, laying my back flat against the mattress. He steps back to give Simon room.

Simon drops to his knees at the edge of the mattress. He reaches for the waistband of my yoga pants. His knuckles brush against my stomach, sending a jolt of electricity straight down to my center. He pulls the tight fabric down my legs, taking my soaked underwear with it. The friction of the material sliding off my sensitive skin makes me whimper. He tosses the clothes over his shoulder, leaving me naked.

I spread my thighs wide on the bare mattress. Two dressed men tower over me while Simon kneels right between my knees. Their pupils dilate. The muscles in Kel's jaw jump. Simon's chest heaves with quick, shallow breaths. Wally clenches his hands into tight fists at his sides, his knuckles turning stark white.

Simon grabs my hips with both hands. His large fingers dig into my flesh to hold me still.

My fingers tangle in his copper hair. Being the older, experienced Omega in a fantasy means taking what I want. I guide his head down, pressing his open mouth right against my dripping center.