Page 29 of Faith and Fury

I can feel his gaze seep into me, my inner thighs already clenching. We’re tucked away in the very back corner of the cell, huddled beneath a shared blanket.

No-one has to know.

With all the grace and decisiveness I love him for, Fang runs his hand down my front. His fingers skim my breasts, and I gasp.

His eyes flash a warning.

I bite my lip.

Still staring at me, making sure I behave, he finds my underwear, pulling against the elastic band to expose my slick, molten center.

My fists clench in his tank top. Each and every one of my nerve endings sings, feeling more sensitive than I have in years. Just being near another omega’s heat has reminded me of what I am. What I need.

Fang circles my clit in testing, almost curious strokes. I have to press my face against his neck to mask my labored breathing.

“Fuck, omega,” he murmurs directly into my ear, “you’re soaked.”

He pushes just one finger in and I instantly see white. I buck forward, only for him to grab my waist with his free hand, pinning me in place.

“Don’t worry …” he kisses my temple. “I’ll come to you.”

With that, he inches closer, freeing his cock and angling it just right. I can feel his tip against my entrance for what feels like eternity. Is he torturing me, or asking permission?

Either way, I flash my teeth, a snarl rumbling soundlessly in my chest, right before he finally thrusts his—

***

An earth-shattering cramp wracks through me.

Holy fuck, that hurts.

“She needs a hospital,” someone hisses right outside my door.

My … door. Since when did I have a door? Where’s my mate? Where am I?

I try to whine, but of course, the sound doesn’t come. Stupid omega. Doesn’t even know she can’t speak.

“Fuck no,” another voice snaps. “They’re just gonna drug her up again!”

“Both of you,” this voice is deeper, steadier, making my inner omega preen. “Keep your voices down.”

“Just—tell us what to do,” the first voice pleads. “I–I thought we had time. I thought we could talk to her about this.”

“So did I. But something must’ve set her off.”

That’s when it comes back to me. Pack Wilder. The alphas who aren’t my alpha, but who treat me like a person, and try to communicate with me, even when I make it hard.

The alphas who smell good, my omega puts in.

I knew something was coming. I … I wanted Fang to be there. Yes—the window. I thought, maybe, if I could stand out in the open air, I’d be able to scent him.

Just thinking about scent brings Pack Wilder’s joint aroma into focus. One taste of that musky, chocolatey, citrusy blend, seeping under the door, and my insides melt. The bedsheets are soaked with sweat and slick. The only sensation I’m aware of with any degree of clarity is the ache between my legs.

Screaming at me to be knotted.

Oh, god. I’m going to be sick.

Another cramp rips through me. I lurch over the side of the bed, retching.

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