Page 19 of Waiting for Fate
EVERYONE OVER THIRTYknows what a pull between Fate Matched mates feels like. Whether they’ve experienced it themselves or heard about it from someone they know, the knowledge is always there. Lingering in the back of their mind and waiting for the moment a spark ignites in their soul.
Glancing in the rearview mirror, I wonder if the omega sitting in the backseat feels it, too. Is there clawing need rampaging through her body from the connection between us? Tearing my eyes away from her, I focus back on the road ahead.
When Pack Graves invited Omen to hang out, I had initially planned to stick close by, but after hearing her voiced concerns about their budding romance, I headed back to the bus. If she doesn’t feel pressured to leave for me, perhaps she’ll stay and explore things with her pack.
Not that I am pushing her to bond with them. I know better than most what it’s like to have fear hold you captive.
My eyes flick back up to the mirror to look at Bea again. I have never believed there is an omega for me out in the world. The weight of my sins seems too heavy to burden someone as sweet as the woman sitting behind me.
Parking the car by the bus, I step out and open her door, gripping the metal a little too tightly as her intoxicating Piña Colada scent teases my nose when she slips past me. The softly murmured ‘thank you’ brushes against me like a sweet caress.
Fuck, I need to go for a run.
My feet pounding the worn trails around the RV park helps clear my head of my growing infatuation. The strain of my muscles is distracting enough to leave exhaustion in its wake. I don’t push myself to the point of passing out, just enough to deter the reactions I have to Bea.
Regardless of the turmoil this connection may bring, I am one hundred percent focused on my job. I am here to protect Omen Powell from the vile cult who may still hunt her. My attention will never waver from our task, no matter how much my instincts may try to demand otherwise.
Slipping back on the bus, I take a cold shower to wash the sweat away. Ignoring the ache in my cock from the lingering hints of her scent in the bathroom. This tour is going to test every ounce of my self control.
Dropping onto the couch, I watch as Ridley washes the dishes from the quick lunch he’d thrown together for us earlier. This asshole is one of my only friends, and not by choice. When the DAU paired us together for an assignment a few years ago, he’d barreled into my life with an easygoing attitude and refused to leave. I’ve been stuck with him ever since.
The way he watches Bea makes me think he feels it too, the connection. Maybe that’s why I haven’t been able to shake him all these years. He’s part of her damn Fated pack too.
When the curtain separating the living area from the sleeping area opens, I damn near come in my pants like a fucking teenager. Bea steps out in a bubblegum pink crop top that dips in a low v, framing her breasts perfectly. A sheer magenta cardigan hangs off her shoulders, matching the floral miniskirt hugging her wide hips. The white knee-high boots she’s wearing seem to highlight the stretch of her bare leg between them and the bottom of her skirt, which is entirely too fucking short for her to be parading around in.
My instincts blaze to life, possessive rage burning through me so fiercely I’m afraid I’ll lose control. Where the fuck does she think she’s going dressed like that? When I growl out that exact question, she fucking ignores me. Only answering when Ridley also asks about her plans. She wants to go to the festival afterparty? In a skirt short enough I can practically see the panties she’s wearing underneath?
“No, I’m going to find a knot to ride.”
I don’t think, my instincts taking control as a vicious growl vibrates in my chest. I’m across the room before I can process what is happening. My palm wrapped around the little brat’s throat and pinning her to the wall.
Standing close enough our bodies are millimeters from pressing together, I drown in her scent. The flutter of her pulse beneath my fingers betrays exactly how she feels about my obsessive display. Those gorgeous, midnight blue eyes dilate to the point they’re almost black. I bet if I inched that stupid fucking skirt up and slide my fingers along her cunt she’d be leaking slick down her thighs for me.
Fuck, I need to get a hold of myself. She might be mine, but I won’t saddle her with my trauma. Convincing my alpha of that, though, is an entirely different story.
Ridley leans beside me, his presence not even registering as a threat, which confirms my theory about his connection to her. Shit, we’re in trouble. This is going to be the longest, most difficult eight-week tour of our lives.
He spews some bullshit excuse about her safety that has her palms slamming against my chest. I let her push me away, forcing my instincts back into the tight leash I keep them on. His words must have worked, though, because she stomps toward the back of the bus.
She pauses at the curtain, looking back at us over her shoulder and letting an evil grin fill her face. “You want to play this game? Fine, let’s play. I hope you aren’t sore losers.”
The tension slowly releases from my body after I hear her nest door slam shut. I run a hand through my damp hair, fighting for enough control to not storm back there and show her exactly who she belongs to.
“Fuck, she really needs to stop running from me,” Ridley grumbles from beside me, blatantly gripping his dick as he mutters a prayer for patience.
Ignoring him, I slump back onto the couch, keeping my body angled to see the back of the bus in case Bea tries to slip out the door when we’re distracted. Ridley sits beside me, grabbing the controllers for the game console he brought along and passing one to me. We let our jealous anger out on the characters on the screen, wiping out map after map of enemies.
Bea doesn’t leave her room for the rest of the evening, not even to use the bathroom. A small part of me feels bad for overreacting. I don’t own her. Hell, I don’t even want to bond her, but my instincts say otherwise. And fighting against them is going to take every ounce of willpower I’ve amassed over the years.
Sweat soaks my skin as I slow to a stop outside the tour bus. I slept like shit last night, my instincts still haywire from the encounter with Bea. I’m waiting for a call from Omen, who had slept over with Pack Graves last night. Then we’ll be back on the road to head to the next venue for another Primordial Covenant show.
Stepping onto the bus, my body comes alive. A warning I can’t place until a muffled groan comes from the back of the bus. My feet carry me through the curtain, dragging me toward the nests like a fish being slowly reeled in. The shower is running, but the bathroom door stands ajar, Ridley clinging to the frame so tightly his knuckles are white.
I follow his gaze, heat searing through me when I spy Bea’s open nest door. She’s on her bed, every inch of her sweet skin exposed. My cock hardens so fast it’s painful as I trace the curve of her breasts down to her spread legs. The force of her scent hits me hard enough to make my knees shake.
A moan slips through her parted lips as she works a knotted dildo in and out of her soaked cunt. Each thrust makes an obscene squelching noise that threatens to undo me. Faster and harder she moves, the fingers of her other hand playing with her clit.
Her thighs tense as she comes, pulling the toy out so we can watch as slick leaks from her opening, down to the bed below her. Then it’s right back inside of her, pushed until the fake knot is straining against her. I’m enraptured as I watch her pussy lips stretch around it. It isn’t nearly as large as a real knot, but the sight is still wondrous.
