“Please.” The word squeaked out, addressed to whoever was watching over me from above.
“Shh, little omega. You’re OK now.”
FIFTY
DASH
I found her clutching her stomach in a filthy alley.
It wasn’t a proper place for my omega to be under normal circumstances—and heat was not a normal circumstance. Kiara’s scent was so heavy and sweet I’d caught it from a block off. Finding her had been ridiculously easy, even though I lost track of her for a minute when she’d made her wild escape from the restaurant.
“Shh, little omega,” I soothed. “You’re OK now.”
She choked on a sob, throwing herself to my chest.
I held in my groan, ignoring the throbbing in my cock. The temptation to rut her against this brick wall was strong, but I wouldn’t give in to it. I was a gentleman.
Her hand palmed the bulge in my pants.
Fuck. A gentleman.
Right now I didn’t fucking feel like a gentleman. I felt like a feral alpha who needed to claim his omega. My omega needed me, if the little moans from deep in her throat were any indication.
Why had I been the one to follow her? I was the one who was least likely to know what I needed to do.
One hand holding her close, I grabbed my phone with the other. Jabbing at the call button, I waited for it to ring for Mercury. It rang through to voicemail with no response. I cursed, groaning when Kiara sucked on my collarbone.
Ambrose’s phone number was next. He didn’t answer either.
They’d both stayed behind. I’d been unceremoniously removed from the restaurant—it was why I’d seen Kiara make her escape in the first place. My packmates had still been arguing with the security guards, trying to threaten their way back inside.
With her golden brown hair streaming behind her, there hadn’t been time to wait and tell them about our omega’s frantic escape.
I’d sprinted to follow.
“Kiara. Heat,” I choked out, leaving a message for Ambrose. “In an alley…” I looked around and gave him the name of the pizza place and jewellery stores we were wedged between. “Fuck. Hurry.”
My arm hung limp at my side, fingers barely grasping my phone. I should put it in my pocket, but all rational thought was gone. There was only her.
Her tongue on my neck, stroking those marks she’d left on me.
Her hand fumbling for my pants, trying to pull out my cock.
Her tits pressed to my chest.
Her coconut chocolate perfuming up this whole alley, advertising to everyone walking by that she was an omega in heat.
“We can’t,” I muttered.
I fumbled, shoving my phone in my pocket, and caught her wrist with my final thread of self control.
“Dash,” she moaned, trying to pull herself free of me. “I need you. It hurts.”
Her desperation pierced my heart. I could feel her hurt through the bond, and her desperation. It was in her expression—her pupils were so wide you almost couldn’t see the blue of her eyes. Her lips were plump, tempting me to kiss. The natural wave in her hair had gone wild, strands everywhere.
“We can’t do anything here,” I said.
It wasn’t a command. It was more like begging. Me begging her to be the rational one here, because I was never the rational one. How was I supposed to be rational today? This was the most taxing situation my self-control had ever been through. I couldn’t hold up to her scent for long.
