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My breath catches in my throat as I swipe open the message. It contains a series of photos taken through Mia’s window, but the images are clear enough. Mia is sprawled out on her bed, hands between her legs, her expression one of arousal and ecstasy.

She’s masturbating, and I can tell that the shirt in her other hand is Jace’s. He must have been so proud of himself.

My cock throbs in my pants, suddenly hard as granite. I grip the phone so tightly, I’m almost sure I hear a faint crack.

She’s beautiful. The way she arches into the stroke of her fingers. The way her nipples strain against her thin shirt. I suddenly feel a wave of envy that Jace and Finn were there to witness this. Still, the photos drive me to the edge.

Before I can even think about it, I unzip my pants and free my erection. With earnest, I stroke down the shaft, my eyes glued to the picture on my phone.

I admire the woman in the picture. Mia. Our omega. I know even now that we will make her ours. The soft curve of her thighs, her generous hips... and even that soft, sad expression on her face. Because there is desire there, yes, but also something like grief.

I need to protect her. I need to have her.

Every time my hand runs across my cock, I imagine being with her in that room, back in the main bedroom at the house, as I stare at her spread pussy lips.

She would be lying on the mattress, ready for me. Submissive and inviting. Ready to be dominated. And I would be all too willing to dominate her. The thought sends a new rush of blood through my cock, and I groan at the pleasure that courses through me.

I imagine slipping off my belt, slow and assured. I loop it around her hands, and Mia giggles into my ear. She wants this as much as I do.

When I take her, it’s hard and fast. I fill her to the hilt, and she clenches around me, writhing in pleasure. God, it would feel so good.

At the image of the two of us joined in such passion, I shatter. Streams of cum flow down my hand, but I continue to stroke myself, wanting and needing more of this. I massage my leaking knot, feeling somewhat sated.

I collapse back in the chair, my gaze still on the photos. Mia is a work of art, and I have to have her. I’ve always had a streak of possessiveness and jealousy.

She will be ours. And our pack will be complete.

seven

. . .

Mia

“One caramel macchiato and a cranberry orange muffin,” I say, placing the order in front of a female college student. “Can I get you anything else?”

I barely hear her dismissive response because he’s here again for the third day in a row. The stranger from before. The one who caught me crying in the back of the store. Finn is sitting at a booth in the corner, a paperback in hand.

But I can tell he is aware of my presence.

If he is a college student, I’ve somehow never seen him before. I would have noticed those intense eyes and that dark smile. He is just a customer, and I am getting far too distracted.

I return my attention to my job.

The morning rush is dwindling into the afternoon, but there is still a lot to do. The espresso machine is on the fritz. I haven’t done the stock yet, and Alice is out sick. In short, it is one of those days, and I don’t have time to wonder about this stranger. Even though he looks absorbed in his book every time I glance at him, I feel his gaze staring intensely at me while I work.

For the next hour, I managed to ignore him. After cleaning up three spills, fixing the espresso machine, and finishing up stock, I finally have a moment to breathe.

And Finn is still there.

I notice that his plate is empty and his ceramic mug as well. For the past three days, he has asked us to keep his order coming, so I head behind the counter and grab a slice of lemon cake and his black coffee.

“Mia, it’s a pleasure to see you, as always,” Finn says as I approach.

Sliding his replacement food and drink onto the table, I flash him my best customer service smile. “It’s good to see you again, sir.”

He reaches for the mug, and his hand brushes against mine. The roughness and warmth of his hand send a shock through me. My pulse quickens, and I swallow nervously.

This shouldn’t be happening, especially since I haven’t broken up with Justin yet. Guilt seeps into my soul, and I immediately pull my hand away.