Page 66 of Claimed By the Psychos

"How would you describe it?"

The bourbon is working now, loosening the locks I keep on everything I don't want to examine. "Like wearing a suit that doesn't fit. One you can never take off, no matter how much it chafes. You can put other clothes over it, try to hide it, butunderneath you're always aware of how wrong it feels against your skin."

Elias nods slowly. "So you don't actually wish you were an alpha. You just wish you weren't..."

"An omega." The word tastes like ash. "If I could just be nothing, just exist without all the biological bullshit, that would be perfect."

"Is that why you pretend to be an alpha?"

I consider lying, but the bourbon and his genuine interest make the truth spill out. "Partly. But mostly it's practical. Being an alpha means people don't question me. They see what they expect to see—strength, dominance, danger. It keeps Juniper safe. No one looks twice at an alpha protecting his omega. But an omega protecting another omega?" I shake my head. "That draws attention. The wrong kind."

"And attention gets you killed in your line of work."

"Or worse." I pour another drink, my fourth or fifth, I've lost count. "At least death is final. There are things that can be done to omegas that make death look like mercy."

Elias is quiet for a moment, processing. "I've been doing some research," he says quietly.

"Of course you have." I can't keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

He pulls out his tablet, swiping to something he's clearly bookmarked. "There are experimental suppressants in trial now. Subcutaneous implants that provide consistent hormone regulation for up to six months. They're significantly more effective at suppressing omega characteristics than traditional medications."

I stare at him, trying to process this through the bourbon haze. "Six months?"

"The trials have been promising. There are increased side effects—potential for irregular heat cycles when they wear off,some users report mild dissociation, occasional nausea. But for someone seeking long-term suppression..." He sets the tablet on the bar between us. "I could look into getting you into the trial. Or procuring them through less official channels."

"Why?" The question comes out rougher than intended. "Why would you do that?"

He shrugs, but there's something in his eyes that makes my teeth itch. "If it would make you more comfortable, allow you to exist peacefully in your own skin… why wouldn't I?"

"Are you offering as a doctor or as a scent match?" The words are meant to be cutting, but they come out almost curious.

A small smile plays at his lips. "Both. My medical oath requires me to help where I can. And as your scent match... I want you to be comfortable. Happy, even, if that's possible."

"Happy." I test the word, foreign on my tongue. Happy is a joke. A pipe dream. Life is about survival, and I've gotten damn good at that.

"There you are!"

Juniper's voice cuts through whatever I was about to say. She practically bounces into the room, cheeks flushed and eyes bright with the kind of satisfaction that comes from playing with expensive weapons. Or possibly from whatever else she and Carlisle were doing in the basement that I don't want to think about.

She makes a beeline for me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her mouth to mine in a kiss that tastes like adrenaline and want. "The guns made me so fucking horny," she purrs against my lips, already moving to my neck, teeth grazing the skin there.

"Guns?" Elias's voice cracks slightly, and I can't help the smirk that crosses my face.

"Carlisle is quite the host," I say dryly, even as Juniper's hands start working on the buttons of my shirt.

"Of course he is," Elias mutters, gripping his glass a little tighter.

I guess that little tour of the shooting gallery wasn't authorized, after all. What a shock.

Juniper's fingers are insistent, pulling my shirt open to expose my chest, her hands roaming with possessive intent that makes my cock immediately interested despite the audience. She grinds against me, and I can smell her arousal mixing with the lingering scent of gunpowder.

"I should... give you some privacy," Elias says, but his voice is strained, and I can see the way his pupils have dilated, the way he's trying not to obviously adjust himself.

"You can stay and watch," Juniper purrs, and fuck if that doesn't make my cock twitch. She looks at me with those hazel eyes that see too much, questioning.

I meet Elias's gaze over her shoulder. There's hunger there, barely controlled, and something else. Respect for boundaries. He won't move without permission, won't take what isn't offered. The self-control these alphas have is either admirable or infuriating, I can't decide which.

"Do what you want," I mutter, the words coming out rougher than intended. It's as close to an invitation as he's getting from me.