Page 19 of Outback Mate
I’m too determined and focused on getting this damn window closed to listen. The chair is a bit unsteady, and my head swims from standing upright. But according to him, he’s not my Alpha, so he doesn’t get to tell me what to do.
I grip the top of the window frame and lift my weight onto my toes as I push it closed with both hands.
The chair wobbles beneath me, my feet losing purchase against its cracked vinyl lining, and I lurch backwards as my arms shoot out to hold myself to the windowsill. My fingers miss their hold and the world around me slows as I plummet to the ground.
A classic Poppy fuck up.
This happens when I act too fast and don’t stop to think about my aura sickness. I know better than to climb things by now, but it’s part of the illness. The risk-assessment part of my brain is broken.
I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable impact with the hardwood floor.
Except… it never comes.
Instead, I’m engulfed in a solid wall of warm muscle and protective strength. My head slams into the crook of his neck, the soft skin cushioning the impact.
I release a shuddering exhale of relief only to flinch when the Alpha growls. My saviour tightens his hold on me, his fingers digging into my flesh as he holds me closer.
I wince and chance a glance up at him.
His upper lip raises in a snarl of anger and frustration.
Something in him snaps.
In a flash, he’s across the room and lowering me onto the examination table.
He leans over me, caging me in as his large hands rest on the pillow above my shoulders.
He looks furious.
My Omega wants to submit to his show of dominance, and I grin up at him sheepishly.
“Oops?”
“Do not disobey me, Omega,” he says slowly.
Gone is the monotone, detached voice of my doctor. Staring down at me is an Alpha. His eyes are flashing with a possessive promise, and I feel my skin heat in response.
This is what I expected from the start.
Territorial, possessive, hungry, dominant.
He nips at the exposed column of my throat, teeth catching on my skin lightly. It’s an instinctual, primal reprimand to his naughty Omega.
It doesn’t quite work the way it’s intended. The scrape of his teeth across my skin has my body igniting with pleasure.
I moan. Loudly. From the bottom of my chest.
“You’re in trouble, little Omega. I think you need a firm hand to keep you in line.”
I gasp as his tongue darts out to lave at the throbbing bite mark, soothing it.
“Yes, Alpha. I do,” I babble, agreeing fervently with whatever he says just so he doesn’t stop.
The tiny patch of skin pulses with electricity, and my toes curl.
I tilt my head back and let out a mewling sound.
He answers my call with a rumbling growl.
