Page 16 of Generation Omega: Claimed
I’d step into a bear trap for Ethan… I already did. I knew on some level what this would be, but not the depth of it. Every ounce of Ethan’s surrender is shaking loose my flawed perceptions of what killers are. We think we’re so cold and detached, and that it makes us fierce. It certainly makes us hot, it just does. Assassins are sexy—everyoneknows that. But we’re also apparently cowards, and that’s an unpleasant discovery.
We lack the courage of any new mother holding her fragile infant for the first time, any man or woman willing to get down on one knee and pop that fateful question, any long-married husband who sits at his elderly spouse’s bedside to help ease a gentle path into death. Those people have a kind of mettle intheir souls that leaves me in awe. I just shoot—sometimes slice and dice—people.Big fucking whoop.
I hate this. I hate having my certainties corrupted and transformed into doubts. But I love Ethan’s surrender, his unbelievable trust, and his noteworthy cock in my hand. I love the way his body pulses within my hold. I love the way I can send power into him and take him places he’d never be able to reach without me. And, sure, the strain of holding back my inner life from him is a misery I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemies, but my life has been a tale of discomfort and, as far as agony goes, this is the best I’ve ever known.
Oh, here we go, the feral alphas cometh and the knotty alphas yield. Tillie’s whining and writhing, and clearly can’t wait to catch a ride on every cock in the nest, but the little minx better not look at me. Thankfully, my grip on Ethan and my new tendency toward rumination are keeping me from falling prey to the scent spell cast in the small room. But I’m done seeking balance in my world gone mad—at least for now—because if I don’t attend to poor Ethan’s needs, I might break my new toy, and we can’t have that. So, I turn my full attention on the man who caught himself a killer and will never escape.
Describe them. That’s what I inwardly purr to my Ethan. He knows what I mean. His gaze is fixed on the remaining alphas as they stalk closer to the quivering omega. Other than what appears to be a permanently affixed kilt on the Scot, I’m the only one still clothed. Welcome to naked alpha-palooza, all rigid cocks and primal agitation.
At first, I wonder, with some concern, how Ethan will respond to my command, but observing his thoughts is entirely gratifying. If he’d looked at any of these alphas with attraction… well, I would have either punished him for that or, more likely, punishedthemfor that. Either way, it would have been unpleasant, but Ethan doesn’t hold any sexual interest for them,not even Gideon Blake, action star. I’m the only alpha on hisfuck-mewish list—priceless.
I should have expected the framing of his alpha inspection, but I’m glad to be reminded who Ethan is apart from this omegaverse quicksand that imprisoned us. He’s an MMA fighter, so, of course, he assesses the other alphas through that lens. What are their strengths, weaknesses, unnecessary vulnerabilities? He’s measuring them as combatants, just like I do with everyone I meet. It’s appealing—more than I would have thought—to discover this common ground with him, even though the end results of our battles are so different.
Tell me now—describe them.
Ethan’s reverberating with tension, his cock still in my hand.
Gideon’s build is about function and appearance. His muscles are part of his performance, for show and because of the physicality of his job and image. He’s literally a piece of art. Tillie will be sculpting him as soon as she can. I can see her running her fingers over every rippling muscle every single day. He’s basically a flawless man, and you know with his height, he worked hard to get those massive leg muscles. His arms… they’re impressive.
What would it be like to fight him?
Well, with me, it wouldn’t be a contest—even without the alpha stuff—because he wouldn’t risk hurting me and losing Tillie’s love and trust. I doubt he would even spar with me. But, in an actual fight, I could take him… at least, I think I can.
Ethan’s well-earned ego is a fucking aphrodisiac for me, and I’m harder than a metal pipe. Keep going—I need him to keep talking to me, because I don’t want to let those unworthy fuckers touch my minx. Wow, I’m already there, aren’t I? Possessive of the woman I don’t want to touch… yet.
Gideon’s hair is short now, which is much more sensible in a fight than the big-hair, bozo brigade about to mount up.
I almost blurt a laugh, seeing what he sees. The professor’s thick, dark hair constantly falls over his eyes—he’s wearing his glasses even now—and the president’s offspring, with his light brown, unruly but fashionable, curls would be easily snagged in a fight. They’re both wearing the equivalent of clunky earrings to a cage fight, if things were to go that way. And yet, Ethan doesn’t feel the same way about our kilted alpha’s wavy, red hair.
Without looking at me, Ethan nods.No one is going to fight that behemoth dude. His grabbable hair is like a lure to deceive you into thinking you could use it to get the edge on him. He’d let you rip it out, while he tears a new hole in your throat. Our Adam alpha is hardcore. His stature isn’t about the show—it’s all about function. He has muscles so that he could drag a semi across the desert for fun. No one has ever made me feel small since I grew up, but dang, that guy does.
And the others?
Thatcher is stocky by nature, but there’s something dark there. He’s fought before. His stature is more defensive, like he has muscles to make others question whether they really want to fight him. Where Jameson… his leaner build is totally about the show and laziness, like the bare minimum to get the attention he desires.
I love Ethan’s mind. I want to bite him again, maybe his lips so that we feel that zinging connection of touching our bondmarks whenever we kiss.
Gideon and the ginger mammoth stand close as the fuck train continues. I’m almost coming out of my skin watching Thatcher penetrate the omega—fuck, I should have killed him and regret not doing so. I’m about to lose control when Ethan raises his hand and digs his teeth into our bondmark. My shoulders slump, and I grip Ethan like he’s the only thing keeping me from being sucked into a black hole.
I want to bite your lips, I confess.
Do it.The challenge in his eyes makes me think he knows exactly what will happen if I drop my guard enough to bite him again. I’ll be rammed inside him in less than five seconds.
Focus, Kaz, you can’t do this. Control is all you have right now, and as much as the feral alpha herd are currently playing nicely with each other, that could change in a heartbeat. I can’t fuck Ethan without fucking the omega, not right now. Not with the pressure of alpha instincts driving me.
He needs to know that, so I share. I want our beginning to be about us, not our assigned roles in the omegaverse. I want to cherish your full surrender when I take your body for the first time. I don’t want to be a mindless brute with you, at least not in the beginning.
You really want me, don’t you? You aren’t hesitating? I can’t hear your thoughts, Kaz. If I could, I wouldn’t still have doubts about my place with you.
Fuck, I have to give him something, but it’s a fine line to offer a drop versus drowning him in my own personal horror flick.
My willpower wobbles as I release the smallest hint about the nature of my desire for him—the fucking firestorm of need threatening to set me alight from the inside. I succeed, hearing and feeling his relieved gasp, and then I fucking lose control.
CHAPTER 9
ETHAN
I can’t even begin to process the magnitude of Kaz’s need for me. He’s burning for me, and every second he touches me, inside and out, is lighter fluid sprayed with a damn hose. I feel stupid for doubting him, but he’s still a brick wall to me, and I’m a never-ending podcast, confessing everything, all my secrets, fears, and desires. I’m grateful he opened just a little to me, but I still want more. I’ll always want more.
