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The rain assumed a soothing, steady rhythm that seduced her with every drop. Hours had passed since she'd come to the hut. It must be late. Besides that, no one would be out in this weather. Except the patrol, but she could avoid them by sticking to the shadows, and the rain would mask the worst of her scent. Conversely, though, the storm would also dilute any Alpha scent that came near her. It was a risk she'd have to take.
The lake called and she would answer.
CHAPTER 21
Jake
He woke, as he always did, surprised that he'd fallen asleep. With no idea of the time, the dark of night loomed outside the door, and the hairs rose on the back of his neck. In an instant, the knife he kept near for protection was in his hand, and he stood in readiness for who knew what. An ominous foreboding enveloped him. He was awake, but why?
Rain showered down, slapping against the crinkled material of the tarp slung over the roof. In the past week, he and Colt had finished the roof, but attached a tarp until he could waterproof everything. Jake listened deeply, straining his ears to hear over the wind and through the rustle of the trees and beyond the clattering raindrops on the plastic above him. It hit him then: a low, animal sound.
His groin reacted before his brain did, tightening as if to veer him toward the source. The noise wasn't a hum of discomfort or distress at all but a soft, keening cry of another type altogether. His Alpha nature charged back to the forefront of his mind, and without a single thought, he blasted through the doorframe, oblivious to anything but tracking the sound to its origin. Another muffled cry drifted up the hill and confirmed the location.
The lake.
Who would be at the lake in the middle of the night in the middle of a storm? His legs pumped harder, all hesitancy erased, all focus attuned to his destination. The air, thick with precipitation, clouded his olfaction, frustrating him with the hindrance. If it was her, was she okay? Was she alone, or were the noises he heard of acouplingnature? His Alpha roared, enraged at the suggestion. Now that he'd touched her, tasted her, and felt the solid softness of her body pinned under his, that knowledge belonged to him. And him alone.
He cut a rough path through the woods, the wet leaves and grass slippery under his feet and turning to mud. It squished between his toes, and he lost his footing once or twice, but each sultry whimper propelled him forward, and the absence of any answering Alpha-timbre tone did not fail to escape his notice either.
The edges of the beach opened up, and he skittered onto the well-trudged path, recalling the many nights he'd walked this same course toward their clandestine lessons.
Close now, Zorah's distinctive scent raced up his nose and exploded into his awareness.Holy shit.Her bright citrus had transformed into something thick and sensual. He caught the clear tang of slick, and it twisted his stomach with need. He was losing control and didn't know what he'd do when he found her.
It didn't take long. Tucked away on the edge of the beach, as far away as possible from the trail, Zorah knelt on hands and knees, naked, her body undulating and rocking in an unmistakably erotic rhythm. Well, on her knees andonehand, that was. Her other hand worked between her legs, the frantic movements so violent and aggressive, he wanted to tell her to stop, to not attack herself with such vigor, to slow down and let the pleasure evolve without force. But even without being told, he understood the need that drove her did not have room for slowness or restraint.
Another pathetic cry escaped from between her mashed-together lips, and he left those thoughts behind, his only concern the imperative to provide relief. The rain, still coming down, pelted his cheeks and dribbled down his neck, and he slapped a drenched lock of hair from his eyes, skidding to a stop in front of the writhing girl.
Hair soaked and face dotted with droplets, she looked up with an expression caught between ecstasy and misery. "Jake?"
His heartbeat skyrocketed, and he fell to his knees, both to be near her and because he could no longer count on his body to hold him upright. He'd never seen a sight more beautiful in his life: Zorah, every inch of her soft lushness exposed and on display, wanting and needing and waiting andready. Her spine undulated from the base of her neck, down her back, hollowing above the rounded fullness of her hips and ending as her skin parted to the crease of her buttocks. A work of art in its delicacy and strength as it flexed and shuddered with her efforts. For those did not stop, even as she gaped at him in helpless wonder, her hand continued to rub, perfuming the air with her thick scent.
Jake sat on his heels, fists clenched so tight he might break his bones. "Yeah, sweetheart. What do you need?"
"It's my Heat," she sobbed. "And I can't... I can't..."
He knew. He saw it in the frustrated thrusts of her fingers against her flesh, the harsh grind of her hips against her wrist, the jostling tremors that bounced her neglected breasts. He felt it in the literal heat that radiated off her naked flesh, faint wisps of steam rising up as it battled the cooler, night air.
Heat. He'd never been with an Omega in Heat. In truth, he'd never been with an Omega at all. If Ava had been one, he hadn't known, and she was the last woman whose body he'd enjoyed, nearly a century ago. But he'd heard.
He'd heard plenty of uncouth Alpha talk about Omega Heats and the primal carnality released when they hit. Endless days fucking and sucking in every imaginable position and unlikely contortion. Long ago, he'd dismissed the jealousy and raw bitterness and put it out of his mind, never truly bothering to consider the possibility it would befall him. Most Alphas never serviced an Omega through her Heat, so why would he be any different?
Yet, here he was, with the object of his obsession naked and presenting her body to him, so desperate for touch that she was on the verge of tears. An implausible "I never thought it would happen to me" story come true.
Pure, undisguised want clogged his throat. His worthiness, or lack thereof, no longer mattered. Not right now, not in this.
Fingernails biting into his flesh, he rasped, "You want help?"
Her eyes shuttered. "Please."
Permission granted, he took hold of her rounded cheeks and brought her lips to his own. At the first touch, her taste washed over his tongue, sunshine-sweetness swirled with lust. He drank deep and went in for more. Like a dream, her pliant lips parted for his seeking tongue; it slid against hers, hot and wet and so erotic he nearly roared in exaltation.
Insane. Absolutely insane how wound up he was. Craving more, Jake tucked his shoulder under hers and nudged her upright to her knees. Bare breasts pressed to his abdomen, and Jake groaned, his dick so hard it chafed against the tight confines of his soaking wet jeans. Uncomfortable, to say the least, but he didn't care. This wasn't about him. His need was endless, but hers was foremost.
He found her breasts, scooping and hefting and squeezing them, reacquainting himself with their softness.Fuck, they were perfection. Tearing himself away from the kiss, he stooped lower, sucking a great mouthful of her nipple and its surrounding flesh into his mouth. Tongue lapping against the stubborn nub, he couldn't get enough. With a popping suck, he swapped to the other side, Zorah groaning and mewling. He wanted all his senses filled with Zorah till he burst, till he drowned, till he dissolved completely.
Her hand, still frantically working to bring herself to climax, rubbed against his imprisoned cock. With a grunt, he snatched it away, and Zorah startled at the withdrawal of the contact, releasing a plaintive protest. With a final, lingering suck to a taut nipple and snagging her gaze with his own, he brought her hand to his lips. She gasped when he stroked her porcelain-fine fingers down his tongue. The taste blasted into his bloodstream, and Jake, who'd been addicted to so many substances he'd lost count, shivered at the one that would surely be his final undoing.
Her fingers curled to caress his cheekbone and rasp against his stubble, the subtle acknowledgment speaking to something much deeper and profound than physical need. Something he couldn't allow himself to consider.
