Page 90

“Now,” I said. “Tell me what youreallywant from me.”

She wriggled fruitlessly for a few more seconds, a frustrated puppy growl rumbling up from her chest. Then, she let out a massive sigh and went limp. I kept her pinned, having learnedearly on that she was the type to wait until I thought the match was over and go in for the kill when my guard was down.

“I want to know what sex with an alpha is like when I’m not in heat,” she said in a rush. “And you’re the only one here who won’t read anything more into it.”

“You could have just asked,” I pointed out, not addressing that last part.

She squirmed again. I held fast.

“Don’t you think this is hot, though?” she asked. “Because it was really hot last time, with you and me and Elijah.”

“So hot,” I agreed. “Good point. Right, objection withdrawn. You want the full alpha treatment? You want to be caught? Taken?”

I transferred both her wrists into my left hand and moved the right boldly between her legs, cupping her hot pussy. Her yoga pants were soaked, and my clit throbbed urgently in response as she shuddered beneath me, her scent spiking.

She whimpered.

“That’s not a yes, Absinthe,” I said, rubbing firmly through the damp fabric.

“Yes,” she yelped.

I shifted my weight so I could roll her over on her back. She gazed up at me with black pupils nearly swallowing the gray of her irises.

“Look at you,” I told her, grabbing my T-shirt with both hands and dragging it over my head before tossing it away. “All my Christmases have come early.”

She continued to stare up at me, her lips slightly parted. It was damned flattering, if I was being honest. I grinned down at her, hooking her waistband with one finger and snapping the elastic against her pale skin. “Right, then. Clothes off. Oil up that pretty body so you’ll be harder to catch hold of. And then you and I are going to have a rematch.”

FORTY-TWO

Emma

I’D ALWAYS TREATED sex as a game. Or... maybe that wasn’t quite right. I’d treated it as a tool. A way to get what I needed in a world that rewarded beauty but punished vulnerability.

My rules were, first, no sex with alphas. That was a non-starter for any omega hiding as a beta. Scent suppressors were one thing, but they only worked in one direction. That was important because of the second rule—no orgasms. Clamping down on some unsuspecting bloke’s dick like a vise was a surefire clue that would give the game away. There weren’t enough Kegels in the world to mistake that inescapable grip for anything except what it was—an omega grasping for a knot.

Maybe betas would find rule number two shocking, but as long as there were no alphas in the picture, it wasn’t exactly difficult. In the absence of a heat, or of alpha arousal pheromones, sex was just kind of...there. A series of techniques, like ice skating or car repair.

Add a minimum of acting ability and a passing familiarity with the “I’ll have what she’s having” scene fromWhen Harry Met Sally, and I’d never had a complaint from a male beta.

A handful of private forays into synthetic alpha pheromones and knotting dildos had convinced me that the reality didn’t liveup to the hype. At least, until I’d had my disastrous, unintended heat.