Page 39 of Promised to the Alpha Prince

“You do need to submit,” countered Dmitri, his voice a growl.

Damn it. I perfumed again.

His eyes went wild and he was on his feet again, but this time he didn’t walk away. Instead, he grabbed me and pulled my body up against his.

I gasped, struggling against him.

He didn’t let me go. He smashed me into his chest, one hand migrating lower to seize a handful of the curve of my ass. He squeezed that and then pressed me into his erection as he bent down and claimed my lips.

His kiss was harsh, frenzied, overwhelming.

I cried out, into his mouth, seizing a handful of his faded AC/DC shirt, my whole body feeling as if it had spontaneously combusted at our touch.

He shoved me away.

I landed on my ass, letting out another cry.

He threw both of his hands up. “Fuck.”

I mewled.

His hand was there, in front of my face. “Here. Let me help you up.”

I shoved his hand away and got to my feet, angry now. “You… you…”

“I know,” he roared. “I’m not exactly graceful and measured in the best of times, omega, but you make me…”

“What do I make you?”

“An uncivilized beast,” he breathed.

I perfumed.

He went cross-eyed. He turned on his heel and walked off.

I sat down at the table and snatched up a croissant. I bit into it and glowered after him.

I stayed there for ten minutes, eating all the food at the table, thinking that maybe Dmitri was going to come back or something. I couldn’t believe every single one of our interactions were going to end with him running off like that.

I was now downright annoyed with Dmitri, I had to admit.

And also, well, clearly very attracted to him.

After ten minutes, someone did appear to join me, but it wasn’t Dmitri.

“Nikolai,” I said, grinning widely. “It’s you. I haven’t see you since we got here.”

He tossed himself down in Dmitri’s chair. “I’m only here to convey apologies from Dmitri for leaving you, I’m afraid. They’ve both gone insane. What have you done to them?”

“Nothing on purpose,” I protested. “Don’t you be on his side. He hates me.”

“Who?”

“Dmitri,” I said, as if this was obvious, and ate a strawberry.

“Omega,” said Nikolai, “he does not hate you.”

“He acts like it,” I said.

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