Page 109 of Feral Omega

Frustration mounts, mingling with the white-hot need scorching my veins. A growl rumbles up from my chest, the sound jagged and raw. I need this, need to claim her in the most primal way possible. Need to fill her with my seed until she's swollen with it, until there's no doubt who she belongs to.

Mine.

But her body refuses to cooperate, that final piece of our joining remaining maddeningly out of reach. Sweat beads on my brow, teeth gritted as I redouble my efforts.

The angle is wrong, or she's still too tight, or?—

"Let me help," Plague's voice cuts through the haze of desperate need, calm and clinical as ever.

I snarl, head whipping around to pin him with a venomous glare. "Fuck off," I grind out, hips still pistoning into Ivy's pliant form. "I don't need your?—"

"Yes, you do," he interrupts smoothly, already rising from his perch by the window. "At this rate, you're going to injure her before you manage to knot. Is that what you want?"

I falter at that, a spike of unease rocketing through me.

I don't want to cause her pain.

I do, but not the way I want to with other people. With every other human animal on this godforsaken planet.

But the thought of another alpha touching her, putting his hands on what's mine...

"Valek." Her voice is soft, threaded with a breathless note of pleading.

I stare down at her, at the trust shining in those fiery depths, knowing it doesn't come easily for her. It steals the breath from my lungs, the fight draining out of me in a slow exhale.

"Fine," I bite out, each word like shards of glass in my throat.

Plague inclines his head, already moving to join us on the bed. He stretches out alongside Ivy, one newly ungloved hand coming up to stroke along the delicate line of her jaw.

"Relax, little omega," he murmurs, the endearment making my hackles rise. "I'm just going to help you open up a bit more for him, that's all."

Ivy nods, lashes fluttering closed as she leans into his touch. Something ugly twists in my gut at the sight, a low growl rumbling up to rattle my teeth.

But I don't stop him. Don't tear his hand away and throw him bodily from the room like every instinct is screaming at me to do.

For her sake.

Plague works slowly, methodically, clever fingers dancing over Ivy's skin as he coaxes her to relax. He murmurs low, soothing words, his voice a hypnotic rasp that seems to drain the tension from her body by degrees.

And all the while, I keep thrusting. Keep driving into her heat in deep, rolling waves, the drag of her tight walls around my aching flesh a delicious torment.

I'm so close, teetering on the very edge of oblivion. But that final piece still eludes me, my knot refusing to catch no matter how I angle my hips or grind against her.

Until Plague slips a hand between our joined bodies, fingers easily finding the bud of her clit. He rubs in tight, merciless circles, the slick and methodical glide of his touch in perfect counterpoint to the thick slide of my cock stretching her wide.

Ivy gasps, purrs sputtering on her kiss-swollen lips, back arching as she shatters apart. Her release crashes over her in shuddering waves, inner muscles clamping down around me hard enough to bruise my fucking cock.

And finally, I feel it. The pop and catch of my knot as it sinks past that tight ring of muscle, locking us together.

I growl my triumph, hips slamming forward in a final, brutal thrust. Ivy cries out beneath me, nails raking furrows down the flexing muscles of my back as I empty myself inside her in pulsing strikes.

It seems to go on forever, the world shrinking down to the hot clutch of her body milking me dry. Distantly, I feel the bed dip as Plague rises, the loss of his touch barely registering through the haze of blinding light and fire.

When the last aftershock finally shudders through me, I collapse against Ivy in a tangle of sweat-slicked limbs. She clings to me, trembling and gasping, face buried in the sweat-damp hollow of my throat.

For a long moment, there's no sound but the ragged rasp of our breathing and the rapid thud of her heart against my chest. Gradually, the rest of the world filters back in—the soft rustle of sheets, the creak of bedsprings, the low murmur of voices from the floor below.

And Plague. His scent still lingers, that crisp, clinical musk threading through the heady perfume of sex and rut.

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