Page 1 of Feral: Part Two
Kael
I can’t keep my eyes off the two Omegas across the kitchen, perched on those goddamn stools behind the island like they own the place. They’ve been territorial as fuck over each other across the last week, and while our doctor, Nathan, assured us this was normal—seeing as they’re both pregnant—it’s pissing me off.
I haven’t been able to touch Preston, and I sure as fuck want nothing to do with Slate. The little fucker knows it too, and yet his own pheromones are running just as high as Preston’s, if not higher, being aFeral.And I can’t do shit about it.
A snarl pulls at my lips as I watch them together, wishing I had been tasked with running an errand with Malik rather than my cousin. But I wouldn’t have been happy with that option, either, leaving Slate alone with Thane and Preston.
My jaw tightens as Slate uses his fork to gather a bit of eggs and the bacon bits onto his toast before feeding it to Preston. My beautiful Omega happily parts his lips to take it, his gray-blue eyes half-lidded, a soft moan escaping his throat as he chews.
The sound reminds me of last night, a fucking mess of several hours that still bothers me. I woke up three times, each one a jolt from the bond pulling at me, urging me to check on the Omegas crammed into Slate’s den under his bed. It worried me that they were stuffed under there, mostly because it wasn’t a viable space.
Add in the pillows and blankets Preston had pulled from his nest and their tangled scents, I had a hard time not dragging my Omega out so I could knot him. My chest still aches with some foreign emotion I can’t figure out, and it’s not getting easier today.
Every time I try to get close, to touch Preston or, god forbid, nurse the bite on Slate’s shoulder, the fucker hisses at me, his dark eyes flashing with defiance. It’s like trying to pet a feral cat, all claws and teeth, ready to draw blood.
Preston’s feet kick up on the chair next to him, his toes curling as he drops his hands to rub over his pregnant belly. He’s in those yellow lace panties and shawl he loves; the fabric so sheer I can see the outline of his cock straining against the fabric, a wet spot spreading at the front.
He chews slowly, his cheeks pink and flushed with heat as his breathing kicks up. His scent blooms through the room, thick enough to make my mouth water, my fingers digging into my biceps to keep from doing something I shouldn’t. The bond hums with Preston’s need, but also the chaos that I know comes from Slate.
I lean forward, trying to make sense of the feral Omega across from me. Slate’s perfect with Preston, gentle in a way that he isn’t with anyone else. Even with Malik, who Slate seems to like, the Omega isn’tsoft. Maybe nurturing is a better word. His darkcurls fall over his forehead as he tears off another piece of the sandwich and feeds it to Preston with a care that makes my chest tighten. What’s driving him? Why does he give Preston everything while baring his teeth at me? Why won’t he just submit?
Preston, on the other hand, doesn’t seem conflicted about having another Omega shoved into our dynamic. Correction, helovesit. A small whine erupts into the air, my gaze snapping to Preston as his hips shift forward, the wet spot on his panties growing.
My instincts scream to go to him, to pull him into my lap and give him what he needs, but Slate’s eyes snap to mine. If we weren’t bonded, I would bark at Slate to step down, but some instinctual part of me wants to cater to my other Omega—the Omega I’m still not sure I want.
Slate pushes the plate away before leaning closer to Preston, his hand resting on my Omega’s thigh. “You can watch,” Slate growls, a challenge wrapped in that sassy tone.
Slate leans back in his chair, one hand cradling his pregnant belly, the other sliding behind Preston, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his yellow lace panties. My jaw clenches, a knot of heat and frustration twisting in my gut as Preston lets out a soft sound, his hips shifting a little more purposefully.
It’s almost painful to watch but I do anyway, Slate’s fingers moving slowly, the slick squelch of him finger-fucking Preston’s hole filling the room. My cock hardens in my pants as desire fills my chest, my nostrils flaring at the mixed scents of their arousal. Preston’s breath catches, another little sound escaping his throat, anger tangling with my desire. I should be the one pleasuring my Omega, not Slate, the Omega taking what’s mine right in front of me.
Preston’s hand slides down his stomach before he starts stroking his cock through his panties, the fabric stretched tightover his length. He whines harder, each sound driving a spike through my chest.
The bond stretches and tightens between arousal and control; the dance Slate is putting us both through confusing my senses. He’s an Omega. AFeralOmega, and yet I’m drawn to that fierce resolve of his just as much as I want to break it.
A grin spreads across Slate’s lips as he takes his time, torturing Preston and drawing out every whine, every shudder with ease. I grip the table with one hand and drop the other to my cock, massaging my knot as my mind wars with my instincts.
“Slate,” Preston gasps, his hand moving faster on his cock. Slate’s lips curve up higher, his fingers picking up speed, Preston’s moans growing more desperate. The slick sounds get louder, the bond flooding with Preston’s need, hitting me so hard I can barely breathe. I want to cross the table and shove Slate aside, but his eyes flick to mine, daring me to try.
The brief thought of disappointing Slate keeps me in my seat, and instantly, I decide that I despise being mated to him.
Preston’s head falls back as his whines turn frantic, his scent so thick I can taste it on my tongue. Seconds later, he’s soaking the lace through, his release coating his thighs as he finishes.
Slate pulls his fingers out, slick coating them, and brings them to his mouth. He closes his eyes as he sucks them clean, a low moan vibrating in his throat as he savors Preston’s taste. His other hand massages his own belly through the shirt Malik loaned him, Slate doused in scents that aren’t mine.
I know he’s taunting me. I know he’s trying to drag out a reaction from me, but I don’t think he has any fucking cluewhichreaction he’s going to get. If he weren’t pregnant, I would shove my cock down his throat and make him choke on it.
When Preston reaches over to steal Slate’s fingers and suck them into his own mouth, my control snaps. I stomp across the kitchen and grab Slate’s arm. Careful not to jostle his belly, Iyank him out of the chair and press him up against the counter, my body pinning his to the marble.
My breath fans his ear as I lean in against his back. “You keep doing shit like that to piss me off. Quit it.” The bond pulses with my anger, but there’s a heat there, stirred by Slate’s defiance and Preston’s moans still ringing in my ears.
Slate twists in my grip, just enough to meet my eyes. “Why? We agreed to a truce, not that I would bow down to you. Besides, I think I like watching you lose control.”
Slate
There’s no reason I should want this fucking Alpha but it’s like my instincts are on overdrive and with Thane out of the house, I need relief. However, I’m stubborn enough that I won’t ask for it, even with my hole leaking and soaking into the borrowed shorts Preston lent me. Kael lets out a growl that reverberates through the room as he rips my shorts down my legs, leaving them pooling around my ankles.
Preston looks on with a hint of worry, mumbling ‘Don’t hurt him’ just as Kael grips the front of my neck and starts feeding his cock into my sloppy hole. I grit my teeth at the sudden stretch but relish the relief that comes from it. With a proper bond, I biologically need my Alphas. And it fucking sucks, especially with this full belly attached to me.
