Page 89 of Blood Fist

The poor woman even had to suffer through the inevitable arousal that came with heats. If they were lucid enough, she would leave them to take care of it, but unavoidably, she saw more than she ever wanted to.

Even though she’d been with him through most of his heats, this time there was a wrinkle in her brow. Shewas worried. Ridan’s heightened senses could pick up the anxiety she was trying to hide behind her comforting scent—smelled like burnt bread, and it made him nuzzle into her stomach, leaving behind his thick syrupy heat scent.

His heat normally came in waves. He would have periods where he wasn’t suffering at all. Able to eat and drink, relax a little. But this was constant. He felt as if someone had tied his guts up in knots and kept pulling them tighter and tighter. Ridan had vomited the simple broth Sehleh had cajoled him into drinking. He couldn’t even speak. Words were too difficult.

He knew Corric was approaching before the other omega even knocked. His frosty scent was like newly formed ice on a pond, and Ridan felt a moment of reprieve.

Through his haze, he could see how tired Corric was. Between caring for Ridan and his brother, he had little time to do anything else.

“Has he eaten?”

Sehleh shook her head, fingers still carding through Ridan’s damp hair. “I’ve never seen him like this.”

Corric pursed his lips and laid a hand on the bag he had slung over his shoulders. “I brought something but…I don’t know if it’ll help or make it worse.”

Kneeling beside Ridan’s head, Corric let him snatch his wrist. Ridan pressed his nose against the smaller gland. He parted his mouth to breathe it in. If he was in his right mind, he’d be so embarrassed he would die. But Corric and he had an unspoken pact about heats. He would never mock him for it.

With his free hand, Corric reached into the bag. Before he’d even removed the garment, Ridan’s nostrils flared, picking up the nuances of scent through the leather.Whining, he snatched it before Corric finished pulling it free.

Ridan pressed the thin linen to his face, breathing in deeply.Brune.It smelled so much like him it was as if Ridan was pushing his nose directly into his neck. That steady, earthy scent that was perfect for the alpha filled his senses, and the ache in his gut slowly abated.

Pulling the shirt to his chest, he wrapped it around himself as much as possible. Unlike the soft blankets and furs that felt like knives on his skin, the shirt settled against his sweaty skin like a balm. Sighing in relief, he twisted himself into the fabric as he pressed the smelliest part of the garment right against his neck.

Distantly, he could hear Sehleh and Corric speaking, but their words were far away and meant nothing. Not when he could finally stand being in his own skin. He sighed in pleasure as he closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek against the fur beneath him, finding the thick pelts to be suddenly bearable.

As the pain eased, arousal took over. There was a burning in his gut, a churning heat that radiated down his thighs. Ridan panted, rubbing his slick thighs together as he rolled onto his stomach. The pressure on his cock left him gasping, grinding down into the plush nest with rolls of his hips.

Spreading his knees, he pressed his chest down so he could lift his ass. It was instinctual, there was no one to present to, but it didn’t stop his mind from fantasizing. Big hands running up and down his back, callouses catching on his sweat damp skin. An alpha rumble tickled his back where it vibrated from a thickly built chest. He knew the rumble, just like he knew this smell.

Brune.

His hair would have fallen around his face—the big man could never keep it tamed—and the coarse endswould tickle his back and neck, carrying more of his scent. Ridan would keen, beg for his alpha. It would be distressing enough to color his cheeks, but Brune wouldn’t mind. He would never judge him. His alpha would simply wrap himself around Ridan, let his weight press him into the furs to ground him. Heated flesh pressed to his, impossibly soothing the too tight itchiness until all Ridan could feel was his alpha's hot breath on his neck, the occasional nip of teeth, and the insatiable heat coiling in his gut.

Gasping into the shirt, Ridan reached behind him to slide his fingers against his sticky hole. It was soaked, rim loose and fluttering. Ready and desperate, he plunged two fingers in and keened, a sharp whine begging his alpha not just for more, but for everything.

As vivid as his fantasies were, they weren’t enough. His omega wouldn’t be fooled, and while the sick squelching of his fingers pumping in and out of his ass felt good, there was a distinct tang of disappointment on the edge of every wave of pleasure.

Ridan curled his fingers and brushed against that elusive bundle of nerves he could just barely reach. With a soft cry, he came, his small cock spurting all over Brune’s shirt and his nest.

Collapsing on his side, he brought the shirt up to his nose and tried to breathe in the scent. It was different now, mixed with his sweat and spend. He didn’t hate it, his omega purring at the thought of his scent on his alpha.

But this was just a shirt. It wasn’t his alpha.

Disappointment sat heavy in his stomach, and he had to resist the urge to weep. Brune wasn’t here. Why would he be? He wasn’t Ridan’s alpha.

But oh, how Ridan wanted him to be. From his big smile that could so quickly change into a ferocioussnarl, lifting that shield high to become a solid, immovable object. Ridan never had to worry with Brune at his back. He would not fail. It wasn’t in him. The ground beneath his feet would have to crumble before that shield came down.

And last night—or the night before, Ridan lost track of the time—how Brune had so easily tossed Jonen to the ground. He put himself between them, sensing Ridan’s vulnerability. He didn’t do it to be a pretentious alpha, or because he believed Ridan needed it, but because he wanted to. Because the thought of someone touching Ridan when he was in pre-heat was too much for his alpha.

Not to mention his teeth.Ridan nearly swooned when he saw those fangs dropped. He wanted to drop to his knees right then and there, bare his neck and pray those teeth dug deep enough to draw blood.

Just thinking about it had his cock hardening again. Flopping on his back, he pulled the shirt over his heaving chest, whimpering when the material caught against his sensitive nipples.

His mind cleared a bit after the orgasm, and the realization hit that he was still clutching Brune’s shirt. And he didn’t want to let go. In fact, he wanted to pull it closer. Embed that scent and touch into his marrow, remake his bones until they resembled something that had them so utterly entwined nothing could break them apart.

And as much as he wanted to blame his heat, it wasn’t just that. These thoughts weren’t foreign. They sounded a lot like Ridan from far away. Like the parts of his mind that accepted them were pressed down so far, they had to shout; the words echoing and distorted, but clearly his own.

Buzzard told him love wasn’t a weakness, or abetrayal, but rather a gift. A celebration of everything they had. Ridan couldn’t say he agreed, because if this was love, it was different than that.