Page 66 of Claiming Their Omega

That confrontation with the McAllister Alphas wasn’t fun, but I try to put it out of my mind. My family is safe and okay, thanks to my Alphas. Not that they’re mine, but… well…

I’m trying not to think about that.

Instead, I focus the next few days on building my nest, trying to get it exactly how I want it.

It’s weird, to be ruled by instinct and emotion. To put something somewhere and arrange blankets and other soft things based on nothing but “this feels right.” It’s frustrating when I just feel that something is off, wrong with the nest, but I don’t know how to make it right and I just have to fiddle and rearrange until finally something clicks.

But at least it keeps me busy. Keeps me from thinking about what’s coming, and what I’m going to want and need.

And I have to admit, it hurts more to struggle against these instincts than to give into them. It’s like fighting with a starving dog instead of just giving the dog the food and petting that it needs and deserves.

And, as the Alphas keep pointing out to me, I deserve to treat myself well. To give myself what I need. If what I need is a soft nest… maybe that’s not so bad. Maybe that’s not the worst thing.

After all, what’s really wrong with wanting a nest? I try to think about it, and come up empty. It’s just a cozy way to sleep. It’s not going to stop me from getting my work done or leading the fulfilling life I want to lead.

Maybe not all of my Omega instincts are bad things. Maybe it’s fighting them, instead of working with them, that’s the problem.

I’ve just gotten everything perfect when Cade pokes his head in. “Coming along nicely,” he says gruffly.

“Isn’t it?” I beam. “I really like it.”

Cade nods, looking pleased, which is basically his version of saying I’m glad to hear it. “Gotta pick up a piece of equipment that came in. You, uh, said you wanted to help with it.”

I did. I’ve been reading all the owner’s manuals on the farm equipment so that I know how to operate and fix up the machinery, and I want to help get this new part and install it. “Yes, let me just change real quick.”

I put on something a bit more practical for hauling equipment around, then join Cade to go out to the pickup.

Honestly, I like spending time with Cade. I know he’s gruff and quiet, but the silence is comfortable. And when I’m feeling in a chatty mood, he never interrupts me or makes me feel like I’m being a bother. He just listens and makes me feel heard.

I also like when I can make him smile. I don’t succeed all the time, but I keep trying, and sometimes I can make it happen. I think I’m getting better at is as I practice and figure out exactly what his sense of humor is, what’ll strike him as funny or surprise him.

The drive up is quiet, with the windows down and fresh air blowing in. It’s peaceful, and I hum snatches of songs here and there, my arm dangling out the window as Cade drives. It’s lovely.

We get the equipment and load it up without a problem, but we’re only about ten minutes into our drive home that I start to feel… flushed. Hot.

It reminds me of the bar, when I first presented as an Omega, except this comes on faster and it feels worse. I roll the windows down again, but the breeze is no longer refreshing. It’s not enough.

I tug at my shirt collar, my breath coming a little faster. It feels unbearably hot in the truck, even with the windows down. The heat is so thick and overwhelming it’s all I can think about or focus on. I try to swallow the lump in my throat repeatedly, but it only seems to make things worse.

I don’t know what’s going on, but I feel… off. Something uncomfortable and foreign is stirring inside me, like a slumbering animal coming to life. I’ve never felt anything like this before, and it kind of scares me.

Am I having heat stroke or experiencing dehydration or something?

I glance over at Cade to see if he’s feeling it too, but he seems totally unbothered with one hand lazing on the wheel and his eyes locked on the road. But his scent catches in my nostrils, freezing me in place. It starts softly enough, little gusts of fresh mountain air. But my nose pulls at the stuffy air in the cabin, and when the powerful, spiced scent of mulled wine greets it, I’m almost overwhelmed.

It's his scent, no doubt about it, but it seems different somehow. Much more intense. There are notes and accents I’ve never picked up on before. The sharpness of clove that’s usually there is overpowering now, screaming at my senses to notice it. Just the smell of him lights my body up, but it’s not enough.

I need more than that.

I squirm on my seat, hoping that it’ll take at least some of this unbearable discomfort in my core away, but it only makes it worse. Cade shoots a quick glance at me, his brows furrowing.

“You okay?” he grunts. I shake my head, my throat growing dryer.

“I need…” I don’t know how to finish that sentence. But something in me, something instinctual and primal, takes over. Like I’m being driven by something outside me, my body leans over, and my lips reach for his neck.

As I get closer, the smell of fresh chocolate chip pancakes floods my nose, and something inside me snaps. My mouth attacks his neck, and my hands rake over his body. He groans against the touch of my lips and my clit throbs with need. But it’s still not enough.

There’s a void, an emptiness in me that has to be filled. It’s compulsive and maddening, and so powerful that I don’t care what else happens, I just want Cade to fill it. I crawl into his lap, making him jerk the wheel in surprise, and lower myself down, straddling him.

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