Page 17 of Beta and the Beast
Romulus tilts his head, humor sparkling in his golden eyes. "You're a horny little beta. Did you think I wouldn't know?"
My toes curl in my heels before I slam the door. I can't even look at him right now. I won't be able to look at anyone the same way again. I knew alphas and omegas could smell each other, and I know I can smell them when they're all worked up and trying to stink up the place. I didn't think—and never had reason to believe—that any of them could smell me. Romulus chuckles on the other side of the door, and then his apartment door clicks shut.
Not only am I still unbelievably aroused, but now, Romulus knows I get aroused by him and his scent. This is the worst. I groan pathetically as I march to my room, kicking my heels off to the corner of the room.
I start to get undressed, my skirt falling to the ground, my shirt up and over me. It's not until I'm in my bra and panties that I realize the smell in my apartment is too strong. If I have to stay in it while it smells like this, I won't even find relief with any of my toys.
The new air filtration system is supposed to be top-of-the-line. If anything, I shouldn't smell anything in here. Instead, I'm coated in peppermint, and it's not fading at all. When I check the settings—or attempt to—I'm stopped by a lock screen, and everything starts clicking into place.
Romulus, the jerk, did install my new filtration system. He also turned it off and locked it, so I can't turn it on. I'll be trapped in his smell until I get the code from him or call someone to reset it. Neither of which is happening tonight.
I grab my phone off my nightstand and text him, letting him know how displeased I am with how my night is going.
Sarah:I hate you
Henry/Romulus:For the ventilation system or for coming on your pillow?
I stare at my phone, blinking once, twice, three times until another text comes through.
Henry/Romulus:If you grind that sweet beta pussy all over your pillow tonight, let me know. I'm jerking off thinking about it.
My eyes move from the messages on my phone to my pillow. I don't know how I missed it earlier, considering there's a massive stain on the dark fabric where Romulus spilled himself on it. It must have been a while ago because it's all dried, probablyseeped into my pillow. I make a pitiful whining sound, mostly to cover the fact that I'm more than a little turned on by it.
No, I refuse. I will not tuck the pillow between my legs, rub myself against it, pretending it's Romulus and Henry to get off. I won't.
At least, that's what I tell myself as I grab the pillow off my bed. I say I'm going to toss it in the trash. I'll strip the sheets from my whole bed, wash them, and forget that this happened.
I'm not positioning the pillow in the center of my bed, removing my panties, and crawling on top of it. Nope. And if anyone ever accuses me of it, I'll deny it. I'll also deny that I have the best orgasm of my life, humping my pillow and pretending I'm riding Henry.
8
Henry
Today is the day. Okay, maybe it's not the day, but it's an important day before opening day. It's Sam, me, and two alphas who are always up at the center, all piled into the car, listening to something that makes me realize I'm aging.
Sam and I hope to alternate the days and times the boys can help at the bakery so they all can learn to support themselves and work around other designations. Currently, only six alphas stay overnight at the center, but about twenty come to events or hang out there daily. A few dozen come around occasionally when they get into a fight at home or just need somewhere to hang out where they won't get into trouble.
Right now, we have two of our most in-need boys with us. They're stuck at the community center most of the day because they don't have anywhere else to be on the weekends. Aidenstays the night there. Being over eighteen, he doesn't need parental approval, and we have certified staff on nights when Sam or I can't stay. Jace, well, we're still trying to figure out where he goes at night since we're pretty sure his mom kicked him out of the house, but he's under eighteen, which means he can't stay with us unless we have approval, something I doubt we'll be getting. He promises us he's going home in the evenings when he leaves, but a part of me wants to follow him and make sure he's telling the truth.
They're good kids who just need a little guidance, and thankfully, that's what Sam and I want to provide them with. Well, guidance and some work ethic.
It's been a week since Romulus sexually harassed Sarah so much that we're both pretty sure she's never going to speak to us again. The only reason we're not more worried is because Sam still treats us like everything's normal, which means Sarah hasn't told him about the come on her pillow or how we ruined her chance to get laid last Friday.
"Are you coming to family dinner on Tuesday?" Sam asks me when he sets his phone down. "You didn't come last week, and Janie says that's rude."
I chuckle to cover how I don't think he'll want me there if his sister tells him how much Romulus and I are harassing her.
Sarah doesn't get a moment without us watching her. Her store is filled with flowers we've sent her, but there are no customers, which makes us feel terrible. We've started buying her things and storing them in the new apartment. If she ever comes across the hall, she'll see I have so much stuff for her. Not to mention all of the soft things for her to nest with. Not that she'll nest because she's not an omega, but I have so much she can use if she has any interest.
"I'll talk with Lucas, and we'll be there on Tuesday."
"Good," Sam says, looking at his phone again as another text comes through.
"Alright, when we get there, Henry will show you how everything works, and you'll attempt to make something edible today—preferably multiple edible things," Sam says it all with a smile when he puts his phone back down.
He wanted so badly to stay at the bakery today, but he won't be able to stay the whole time. He's meeting with Scott at the clinic location to go over budgeting and decide what work needs to be done to the space. He's staying for as long as he can because he cares about the alphas we're trying to help.
"We get to eat what we make, right?" Aiden, an eighteen-year-old alpha who was kicked out of his home eight months ago when his designation took hold, asks. The kid can eat more than anyone I know, and his palate is not refined in the least. It makes it easy to keep him happy, though.
