Page 30 of Want It All
‘Don’t be so certain,’ I warned, and waded out further, until the waves were pushing at my waist and Rose was squirmingagainst the cold, squirming against mybody, laughing and shrieking as the water surged high over her stomach.
Byron’s lips were curved into a smile as he watched us. He was only a few metres away, and when he caught my eye, he shook his head and mouthedmenacebefore diving under an oncoming wave. The tide was getting higher – Tristan had checked online, and it would peak before lunch – so I turned back towards the beach.
And caught sight of my alpha.
His expression wasn’t jealous, or resentful, or even surprised.
He lookedworried.
I knew I should have been worried, too, far more so than I was. My body was writing cheques to Rose it couldn’t cash; I knew this could never be. I wanted it regardless, wanted this sun-soaked, sea-sprayed moment of happiness, wanted the warmth seeping through me, wanted Rose’s smooth skin sliding over mine.
Tristan’s lips twisted.
If he’d bitten and bonded me, I’d feel it. His worry would be under my skin, trembling through my veins, carried from his heart to mine. It seemed ridiculous thatthiswas what I wanted so badly: his worries, his insecurities, his hurts. I wanted to carry them inside myself so he could feel them halved,shared.
His lips moved, shaping my name.
A wave slammed against my back. I stumbled, my feet trying to find purchase in the shifting sand. Rose cried out, but I managed not to drop her, and to hold myself upright as white water surged around us. I pushed forward unsteadily until we were back in the shallows, then lowered Rose to her feet.
Omegas ran cold, so I took her hand and dragged her back across the sand to the tent. She let me pull her inside. I wrapped her in a huge towel, then once I had one tight around my ownshoulders, I pulled her into my lap, snuggling close until we both stopped shivering.
Tristan had packed a thermos – he was always three steps ahead – and Rose and I shared sips of decadent hot chocolate until my tongue was coated in cloying sweetness. I knew she could feel the hard bar of my cock beneath her, but I couldn’t bring myself to care, and she made no move to shift away. Nothing in my life had felt thisrightsince I’d met Tristan, so I fed her strawberries and fixed my eyes to her lips, pink and shining.
After a while, she pulled her phone from her bag. I looked over her shoulder as she edited a photo of the beach and started posting it to her social media.
‘Post that one, too,’ I said bossily, pointing to one where Tristan and I were in the frame – well, our backs were, anyway. ‘You can tag us.’
I didn’t really know why I’d suggested it. Maybe so there was proof outside the odd, scentless bubble of Banksia that we were part of her life, even if it had only been for a couple of weeks. I tensed, not knowing how I’d feel if she said no.
She didn’t. She fussed over the photo until she got the edits right, then posted it. She tagged us, and Byron too, and to me, it felt like in that tiny action she was staking a claim. The notion calmed me. There we were, on her feed, my alpha’s broad back, and mine. We were in her life, and there it was, online, proof where anyone could see it.
Mine.
Rose made a small noise of surprise, and I realised that my nose was trailing up her neck, seeking her scent gland.
I jerked away. ‘Fuck, Rose, I’m so sorry –’
‘Seb.’
We looked up as one to see Tristan watching us, his hair slicked back from his face, sand dusting his calves. ‘We shouldhead back soon,’ he said. ‘Byron is having lunch with his parents.’ He paused. ‘If you’d like to, I mean. I figured we’d walk back together.’
Together.
Mine.
Warmth spread through my body.Pack, my instincts whispered.
The possibility pulsed beneath my skin like a living thing.
Rose didn’t seem put out by my non-consensual sniffing, helping me tidy up the picnic while Tristan hovered outside the tent. I could tell he wanted to do it, wanted to take care of me – ofus– but I refused to let him clean up a mess I’d made.
I held out the last square of chocolate to Rose, then almost hyperventilated while she ducked to eat it from my fingers.
The alphas packed up the tent – with their shirts back on, unfortunately – and Rose took my hand as we walked back, apparently unbothered by the fact that my skin had heated past the point of comfort and my palm was sweaty and grainy with sand. I put myself between her and the empty drop as we panted our way back up the staircase; she flashed me a thankful smile that made my insides melt. I forced myself not to bring her wrist to my nose, not to brush my lips over her delicate pulse.
She doesn’t know this couldn’t work, I told myself.You’re going to hurt her.
But my body didn’t want to listen, and I put one foot in front of the other in a kind of daze. White edged my vision and heat rose unceasingly beneath my skin in blossoms of fire.
