Page 17 of Omega's Reluctant Mate
Cody had told me about the cravings when he was fighting his mating urges, but he had seriously underplayed the intensity. All I wanted was for Nate to wrap me in his arms and hold me.
And kisses… and knots…
My cock hardened, and I whimpered. I had to stop thinking about knots, especially Nate’s.
Dogs… puppies. The puppies at the shelter were adorable. Maybe I’d stop in during lunch to see them, even though I wasn’t scheduled for a volunteer shift. The shelter would put me to work anyway, but that was probably for the best. Even that one hour between walks would force me to focus on something other than Nate’s face as he ran.
I just needed to stay busy until the cravings eased, and hope that they would.
I showered, ate, and drove to Cody’s house. Tiny was my first dog of the day, which was a good thing as it allowed me to ask my friend what else to expect in the coming days. However, as I walked through the employee entrance I saw that his car wasn’t there.
“Is Cody expected home soon?” I asked their house manager, Oscar, when I saw him in the kitchen.
He shook his head. “He was called in to work and we don’t know when to expect his return.”
I sighed. “Thank you.”
Tiny trotted in and gave me a welcoming bark, then turned towards the patio door.
I took a deep breath, held it for several seconds, then blew it out slowly. Tiny wouldn’t understand my pain, all he knew was that I was there for our almost-daily ritual of a walk and play-time.
I turned to Oscar again. “If Cody returns could you tell him that I want to talk to him?”
He nodded. “I can do that.”
“Thank you.” I patted my hip. “Come on Tiny, let’s go.”
He barked in excitement, backend wriggling with his wagging tail.
I followed him through a sitting room and to the patio door, grabbing his leash along the way and clipping it to his collar as he waited for me.
It was a routine we had down. On-leash until I could confirm that the beach was empty enough to take it off. It was one perk of Billionaire Row—it was generally empty enough that Tiny was rarely leashed until it was time to return home.
We descended the stairs from the patio down to the beach, and after confirming that there were no other dogs out I unclipped the leash.
Tiny immediately trotted towards the water, nose down as he sought out a perfect stick for the day.
“You’ve got such a simple life,” I murmured as I watched. “Food on a schedule, as many sticks as wash ashore, and the most pressing issue is deciding who you want to scratch behind your ears.”
Tiny dug in the sand a bit, then pulled a stick free. He trotted back with a triumphant gait.
“Is that the choice for today?” I asked.
He turned and started walking down the beach towards where we usually played fetch. But he was faster than I was in the mood for.
“Heel,” I ordered.
Tiny paused, turned, and looked at me, then waited for me to catch up before falling in beside me.
Part of me knew I should have stopped and made him come to me rather than the other way around, but he understood the essence of what I wanted, which was good enough.
We meandered down the beach, Tiny alternating between huffing and sniffing at me every few minutes. It was clear that he was confused by my lack of enthusiasm, and I couldn’t blame him. I always tried to make all my dogs feel special, being excited every time I saw them.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have the energy for any emotion. Part of me was terrified that if I did allow myself to feel anything, it would just be more anguish.
We approached a rocky outcropping, past which was where we normally played fetch, and the ache was starting to settle over me again. I contemplated posting in the local dog-walker group chat to ask someone to cover my afternoon appointments, since we had a habit of helping each other out when one of us was sick or in heat.
I was trying to remember the schedule—and whether there was anybody whose house had a physical key rather than a code-lock—as we rounded the rock and I spotted a person sitting on the beach.
