Page 42 of The Omega Project

I lean into him, the vixen under my skin fascinated by the sheen of heat in his eyes. “Can you step me through the process before I decide? What exactly would you be doing during this test?”

If I’m trying to unnerve him, I fail miserably as he sits up straighter, his nostrils flaring and his dominance breaking over me in waves. I cling to his shoulders as he stares down at me, a thin black brow lifting in challenge. “I’ll part your thighs, check your pussy for any damage after taking Lang’s knot, then slip the swab inside you to see if you’re as sweet as you smell.”

Whatever dip I’d been in dissolves under a wave of heat at his words. I want that and so much more, and I arch against him, nodding my head and parting my thighs. They’re already damp with slick, and I watch his pupils dilate as he brushes his fingers over the damp skin. “So soft,” he murmurs, black curls falling into his eyes as he studies me. “Tell me if there’s any discomfort.”

Words are almost beyond me, but I force myself to say, “It’s fine. You can do the test.”

He catches my gaze for a moment, then gives a slight nod, his fingers dipping between my thighs. There’s no hope of hiding my reaction as he gently parts my folds, his thumb rubbing a slow circle over my sensitive skin. “There’s a little redness here,” hesays in a voice full of gritty wonder. “Lang should lick this better, Emily. His alpha juice will soothe the sting.”

I shudder, but he holds me still as he slips the swab inside. My blood is humming so wildly, I can barely feel it, but I give a disappointed moan as he pulls it free. Jerking his hair out of his eyes, he places the swab in the testing vial and gives it a stir, but I barely spare it a glance. I’ve never felt less like a scientist in my life as I squirm on his lap. “Finn…”

“You’re perfect,” he says, staring at the bright pink bottle. “Like the rest of you, your slick is beautiful.”

How am I supposed to hear that, and not come all over his lap?

“Alpha,” I whine, almost panting with need. “Please. I need you inside me.”

“Soon,” he tells me, his thumb brushing my twitching hip. “When your heat is over, we’ll talk, and if you still want me, I’ll own every inch of you, Emily.”

As much as my body screams at me to stay, I can hear the dismissal in his words, and I force myself to climb off his lap. My legs shake under me, but I lock my knees, holding his gaze as I trail my fingers over Lang’s bite mark. “Wait too long, Finn,” I warn him, “and there may not be room for you anymore.”

Emily

I don’t wait for Finn’s reply, grabbing a blanket off the back of his chair and wrapping it around myself as I pad out of the room. I can feel him staring after me, and while my chin is up, my skin aches like it’s sunburned. It’s not my heat, I realise, but the loss of his touch, as fleeting as it was.

What is he waiting for?I feel a pang of irritation as I clutch the blanket around me, the wool scratchy against my sensitive skin. What I really wanted to do was strip him of his hoodie, but that was one boundary I wasn’t confident enough to test. I’m not sure what that says about me, given I just had my thighs open and his fingers in my pussy, but Finn Visser is enough to scramble any girl’s brain.

Does he really think his secrets will drive me away?I touch the bite on my neck, Lang’s face flashing in my mind. I’ve bonded his best friend, and he’s bonded my boyfriend, so even if he keeps his distance, I’m not going anywhere. I’m pack, and he’s my alpha, although I’m starting to wonder if that will mean what I want it to mean once my heat is over.

Scowling at the thought, I walk through the house, not so much exploring as following my nose. Discreet downlights flicker to life as I pass, and it’s hard not to stop and gape at the beautiful furnishings, textured walls, and elegant artwork. Whoever their decorator was, it’s like they reached into my hungry little heart and plucked out all the features of my dreamhome. But I stay focused on my mission, taking the beautiful jarrah staircase all the way down to the bottom floor. I smell Creed’s iron and sandalwood musk long before I hear the thud of fists against leather, but I’m still not prepared for the sight of him in a thin black tank and grey sweatpants as he pounds a massive punching bag.

I drift into the gym, looking around the space curiously. At one end of the room is an assortment of steel and rubber torture devices, including a bench press with weight plates the size of cartwheels. The other end of the room, however, is a serene space with yoga mats, a drinks station, and potted palms in vibrantly painted pots. I’m not sure if that’s the decorator’s influence, or if Soren has a more relaxed fitness vibe.

While I’m looking around, Creed pauses his routine and turns to look at me. One pass of his hot, dark eyes over me and I have to swallow around a needy whimper. Licking my dry lips, I cross the rubber floor mats to stop in front of him. “Why are you working out?”

“Habit,” he replies, tugging a towel from the back of his sweatpants and passing it over his face. It wipes away his perspiration, but doesn’t do anything to douse the heat in his eyes. “I didn’t think you’d come looking for me.”

“I woke up and you were gone…” I look around the gym, realising this is his happy place. In a weird way it reminds me of my nook in the library, although comparing my pretty notebooks to the torture devices in the corner is a bit of a stretch. “Clark said you train people in command resistance.”

He looks surprised by the comment, but then gives a slow nod. “I do. Want me to show you the basics?”

I shake my head, memories pecking at the edges of my mind like hungry crows. “I might go check out Kat’s gym one day, but I don’t need the training. Our entire childhood, my father practiced his commands on my sister.”

Creed arches a brow, his lips pulling into a thin, hard line. “You knew he was doing that?”

“When I was sixteen, Claudia picked the lock on his office door, and we read his clinical notes. She was pissed he’d been messing with us like that, but I was happy. All those things he said about me being mediocre, but he couldn’t command me to do what he wanted.”

It’s a part of my life I don’t like to think about too often, but Creed’s dark eyes gleam with pride as he pulls me towards him. His body is scorching hot from his workout, but I bask in the glow of his approval, not to mention the massive muscles moving against my sensitive skin. “You’re pretty amazing, Emily Nash. And fuck your father for not telling you that every day he was lucky enough to know you.”

His fierce words melt something inside me, and I nuzzle into his neck, breathing in the bloom of sandalwood under his metallic musk scent. It’s a strange mix of my past and present coming together, and I realise that even though I barely know him, I feel completely safe in Creed’s arms.Is that just because of who he is, or is there something more between us?Or maybe I’m just projecting, because all I wanted when I was growing up was to have a man like this standing in my corner.

“What have you got there, sweetheart?” His thumb feathers over my neck and I bite my lip. Crap. In my haze, I can’t remember if he was there for the big moment, or if this is a rude surprise. And while Finn didn’t seem to mind that I’d broken their rules, Creed is still very much a soldier and might feel differently.

“Um. It’s Lang’s bite.” I pull back to study his face. “I’m sorry I broke the no bonding rule, but it just happened. Not that it was an ‘in the heat of the moment’ thing, because I wanted it. Lang tried to tell me to wait, but I’m pretty sure I forced him to do it…”

His thumb presses to my lips, smothering the rest of my stumbling explanation. “I seriously doubt you had to twist Lang’s arm, and if that’s an apology, I don’t need it.” He leans forward and presses him mouth to my throat, his chest rumbling as he teases the tender skin. “This makes me so happy, sweetheart.”

I moan at the sensations sparking down my spine. “Really?”

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