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“Why not?” Orion thumbs my neck, so soft.
“Because.” I try to swallow, but my throat’s too dry, and the raw, ugly reality finally claws its way out. “You won’t keep me.“
Atlas lunges.
Suddenly, I’m high off the ground, crushed to the broadest chest I’ve ever touched, and it’s nothing like being underwater.
I have no reference.
Nothing feels this good.
Atlas is firm and soft. Solid and yielding. His purr strokes my insides, his arms hold me tight, and with the scent of soft, cozy leather and a spine-melting caress, he silences all the crazy, whiny, heat-soaked bullshit that has me doubting my sanity on a minute-by-minute clock.
I’m limp omega mush.
If Dominik Redfang busted in with a rocket launcher, I wouldn’t even turn my head.
Atlas wouldn’t let him touch me.
Hurt me.
See me.
I’m that sheltered in his arms.
Orion presses against my back, an extra layer of warmth and protection. “What kind of fucking idiots wouldn’t want to keep you?”
“Don’t answer that,” Atlas mumbles into my hair.
“I know five,” I say, but I’m slipping into an alpha coma.
The heat roaring through my veins softens. It’s more prickly warmth than the kick that makes me panic, and every stroke of Atlas’s palm sends me deeper down the rabbit hole.
This is what they were talking about in my classes.
Why you want and need an alpha.
Kinda thought it was bullshit.
I didn’t want or need anyone.
Now there’s no going back.
“Feels better?” Atlas rubs up and down my spine.
“Mmm,” I mutter into his pec.
“What do you want, Lilah?”
Loaded fucking question.
Because I might be limp, but Atlas is…knot.
The hard bundle presses my thighs in a big, bold hello.
Not a hi, how you doin’, but a busting-through-the-wall, room- and womb-destroying OH YEAH that makes me want to wave right back.
I swallow, dry and thirsty.
