Page 12

Lyle

A chuckle rumbles through me as I slip on my jacket, my shift finally over. It’s barely 6 am but I’m more than over being in this place at the moment. Rodriguez catches me walking toward the main area, ribbing me about my beard, claiming it’s a fire hazard, and Carter tosses a foam stress ball that I dodge with a grin.

“Y’all are just jealous,” I say, swiping a blueberry cinnamon bagel from the counter before heading for the door. Rodriguez hollers something about stealing, but I wave him off. The early morning sun hits me as I step outside, the May warmth a relief after the station’s stale air. I’m eager to get home, to crash in my own bed, but there’s a stronger pull in my chest—calling my baby girl, making sure she slept okay in her new nest.

I climb into my truck, the bagel tucked in a napkin on the passenger seat and check my phone for anything I missed overnight. Callum texted earlier to remind me not to smother her, yet another thing I have to remember. Where Ambrose is impulsive, I can just be… too much.

And now that we know she’s ours, not just a hope but biologically, it’s fucking hard to hold back. The memory of knotting her last night is all I’ve been able to think of, her wild berry scent clinging to me like it belongs there. I want to drive to her place and pull her into my arms as I purr for her, but she’s got her own shift soon, and that’s the only thing keeping me from flooring it to her apartment.

Halfway down the road, I dial her number, hoping she’s got a minute to spare. She picks up on the third ring, her voice adorably sleepy, a soft mumble that makes me grin. “Hey, baby girl. Did you sleep okay?”

There’s a rustle in the background, like she’s shifting in bed, before she murmurs, “I’m still curled up with my pillows.” I can picture her in her new nest, her dark hair spilling over the new ensemble, sleepy blue eyes looking up at me.

“I’m glad. I hated leaving without saying goodbye, but you were a little tied up.”

A nervous giggle comes through the phone and my chest warms, a purr starting low in my throat. “I’ll have to apologize to Ambrose,” she muses, my mind drifting to when she slid right into Ambrose’s hoodie. “I ended up in it and he didn’t take it back before he left. I’m not sure I would have let him.”

I let out a quiet chuckle, merging onto the highway. “Don’t worry about it. He loved it. He’s probably framing that memory as we speak.” I pause, glancing at the bagel, the scent of cinnamon filling the truck. “What’s for breakfast?”

She hums, a sleepy sound that makes me want to crawl through the phone and hold her. “I don’t know. I’m not up yet.”

“Baby girl, your shift starts in fifteen minutes,” I say. “As much as I love your sleepy voice, I’m not sure anyone calling for an emergency would appreciate it as much as I do.”

There’s a squeak on the other side, followed by a flurry of rustling. “Oh no! Gotta go, bye!” The call cuts off, and I let out a quiet laugh, shaking my head as I head home. The drive home is mostly traffic, ticking me off when someone swerves in front of me.

By the time I get home, I’m agitated and need some kind of outlet. Finding Ambrose slouched at the counter over a glass of whiskey shows me the perfect person for that outlet.

The bottle’s half-empty and from the glaze in his stare, I’m guessing he’s had a glass or two. Anger rolls off him, his rum spice scent bitter with the emotion, and I know exactly what’s got him like this. Because while I’ve accepted that we have to focus on Seraphina first, he’s still mulling over the nightmare she can’t drag herself away from.

I cross the room, grabbing the glass before he can lift it, and pour the amber liquid down the drain. Ambrose growls at me as I turn to meet his glare, stepping back up to his side and taking his face in my hands. “We’re not doing shit until after her heat. You tend to go off the deep end, and it’s not happening today. Pipe down .”

His growl deepens, but he meets my eyes, the raw need, the frustration, the love for her that’s eating him alive. A small grin escapes me, knowing exactly what he needs, what’ll pull him back from this edge. The very same thing that I need in this moment. My nostrils flare, catching Seraphina’s wild berry scent clinging to him, mixing with his rum spice.

“Did you even take a fucking shower?”

Ambrose’s lips twitch, a flicker of his usual smirk shining through. “Fuck no,” he rumbles.

“Good,” I say before diving in, my lips crashing against his. He tastes like whiskey and want and he takes charge immediately, yanking me between his legs, his thighs trapping me against the counter. His hand dips into my pants, a groan tearing from my throat as my lips travel down his neck, tasting the heady mix of their scents braided together.

It’s intoxicating. I hated showering before my shift, scrubbing her heat scent off me to keep it from the guys at the station. No one else gets to catch that, not when she’s ours.

I suck on his scent gland, the soft skin below his jaw, his pulse jumping between my lips as his hand tightens on my cock, pumping me with a rhythm that makes my knees weak. My teeth graze his neck, right over his bonding bite, Ambrose nearly falling against me. “Bite,” he says, “again.”

I frown and pull back, confused at the sudden turn. Ambrose doesn’t just need me. He needs out of his head. His pupils are blown, full of desire and need, but there’s something else—pain, maybe, or desperation. I search his expression, my hand cupping his jaw. “Ambrose, tell me what you need.”

Usually, he’s the one fucking me, taking charge with that reckless grin, but every now and then, he needs to feel consumed, to let go of the storm in his head. I soften my expression and press a small kiss to his nose, my lips brushing the piercing there. “I got you,” I murmur.

Slowly, I pull him to his feet and then push him up against the kitchen counter, my chest flush against his back. My lips find the back of his ear, nibbling lightly as he sags against me, a quiet groan escaping him like this is exactly what he needed.

I forget sometimes how Ambrose gets all twisted up in his thoughts, how the slightest thing can set him off. Finding out Seraphina’s truly ours, but not being able to touch her yet. Knowing her abuser is still out there, haunting her nightmares. The sour scent she caught in her apartment, the fear someone was in her space. It’s a lot to process and Ambrose doesn’t process well, not without spiraling.

My hands slide around his stomach and undo his jeans with a quick tug. I lean in closer, my lips brushing his ear again, murmuring words he so desperately needs. “You were so good with our Omega,” I purr. “Treated her so well, holding her, loving her. I can tell you’re gonna be her favorite.”

Ambrose lets out another grunt, his hands gripping the counter as I pull his pants down just past his ass so that he can’t spread his legs. His rum scent spikes, making my cock twitch at the thought of sinking into his tight ass. Precum beads at the tip of my length as I give it a few strokes, gathering it up in my hand to slowly open him up.

The tension bleeds from him beneath my touch, the muscles in his back bunching and relaxing as my fingers slowly scissor him open. Only when I’m sliding my cock into his ass does he finally relax, a deep breath falling from his mouth.

“God, make it hurt,” Ambrose purrs, his head tipping forward.

I frown, pausing mid-thrust, my hands falling to his hips to keep him from moving. “What’s wrong?”

He lets out a quiet growl, his knuckles white on the counter. “I’ve been searching for hours. Trying to see if we knew anyone that could fit the bill and I couldn’t. I’m… frustrated.”

Code for pissed off and needing something to rage at. I hum, letting my purr mix with his to take his mind off of what we can’t fix. “Then focus on this, babe,” I say, picking up my pace, my hips snapping against him. “Focus on the fact that we’ve got an Omega to take care of.”

Ambrose grips the counter harder, his body rocking with each thrust, and I attach my lips to the back of his neck, sucking on his scent gland, tasting him and her together. When my lips trail across the bite in his shoulder, the cry that comes from him has my knot swelling against Ambrose’s greedy ass, trying to suck it in.

I didn’t prep him enough for that, not for an Alpha, but he reaches back and grabs my waist before pushing back and forcing my knot past his rim. He lets out a sharp grunt before bracing himself on the counter, his head flopping forward. His whole body shudders, a low moan escaping as he comes, his release splattering the cabinet below.

A quiet groan rumbles through me as my knot swells inside of him, pulsing as I fill him, wave after wave. “Shit. I didn’t think you were gonna take my knot. Fuck, you’re tight.”

Ambrose just hums, his head resting on the counter. My knot comes down quickly—Alpha bodies aren’t built for it like Omegas—and I carefully ease out of him, my hands settling on his waist. “You gonna be okay?” I ask, brushing his hair from his neck so that I can press a kiss there.

He nods, pulling up his pants and then turns to face me, his lips finding mine in a soft kiss. “I will be now,” he murmurs, his hazel eyes clearer, less haunted. He throws me a full, toothy smile, the deviance in his expression telling me that he’s about to change and then head out for his shift.

“Please tell me you’re taking a shower before you go to work,” I say, half-laughing, half-serious.

Ambrose just grins, heading down the hall to his bedroom. “Nope,” he calls back, tossing a wink over his shoulder.

I let out a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “Jesus Christ, I mated a crazy man.”

“Yeah, you did,” he shouts, his voice echoing down the hallway, “and don’t you forget it.”