She tugged at the arm of Jaxon’s sweatshirt that had only made it halfway into the basket. He’d worn it to work out in the small weight room on their floor. It still smelled heavily of sweat and cinnamon. She looked around before she pulled it out, slipping it over her head. She soaked in his scent and shuddered. She missed him.

  Six months ago, she never thought it would be possible. Not an alpha. And never Jaxon Harlow. He made her happy. It was a small but bright thing in her heart. She was happy.

  She curled up on the couch and turned the television channel to cartoons before she could spot her mom again. She was just going to have a lazy time until Jaxon came home.

  She sat up from her sweatshirt burrito as she heard the doorknob turn. Jaxon paused in the entryway, slipping off his shoes and jacket as he looked around. He looked more tired than usual, pale under his scars and a new abrasion on his cheek. But, he was whole and back with her.

  “Where’s Mina?” Jaxon asked.

  “She got called in to deal with Damian. She had to go.”

  He scowled, creasing the deep V between his eyes. “How long ago?”

  She shrugged and looked at the clock. Time had little meaning when she didn’t do anything all day. “Twenty minutes, maybe? I’m fine.”

  He sighed and nodded, making his way to the kitchen. “You baked?”

  Layla grinned. She wanted him to come closer so she could touch him, so she could run her fingers through his hair. “Yeah, it’s chocolate. I’m sorry the frosting melted.”

  He ran his finger over the goopy icing. “It was too hot when you put it on.”

  “Yeah,” she laughed. “I was too excited. It actually tastes like cake.”

  His lips twitched up. “How those muffins tasted like flour, I’ll never understand it.”

  “I followed the recipe. It’s their fault.”

  Jaxon chuckled, licking icing off his fingers. He had been careful with her, conscious of the space between them. She was still wrapping her head around being mated and the feelings swirling in her chest. The insistent compulsions to hide under the bed, to check the windows and doors for intruders. To lick Jaxon’s fingers, no matter what he was doing. To bare her neck and bite his skin.

  He stopped behind the couch, and she tipped her head back to look at him. He stroked her hair back from her forehead. He smelled like cinnamon, honeysuckle, flowers, and pine, along with sharp sweat and musk.

  Nora had been the one to teach her the most about being an omega. The beta had acted the part of an omega to an alpha for several years, though she was disinclined to talk about him. She instructed Layla on many omega patterns of behavior for which she’d only had the smallest spark of instinct.

  She followed one then, taking Jaxon’s hand and sniffing at his fingers and wrist.

  He grimaced.

  “What? Am I doing it wrong?”

  His expression was soft. “Yes, but close enough.”

  She reached for him, and he bent down low so she could touch his face. She gripped the back of his neck, pulling him in to kiss her.

  He did. Licking inside her mouth and groaning. He ran a hand down her chest, and she shuddered, her whole body reacting to his touch. She arched into him. She’d been waiting for him to come home. She needed him to touch her now.

  He pulled away. “I need to shower.”

  “Don’t,” she said, grabbing his arm before he could leave her. “I like the way you smell.”

  “I stink.”

  “I like it,” she said. She didn’t. He did stink highly of sweat and gun oil. But it was one of the few things that she could trace directly to her omega instincts and needs.

  Jaxon grunted and leaned down to nuzzle at her neck, at her mating gland that was constantly sore and worried red beneath his teeth.

  He circled the couch and sat beside her. “You’re in a mood.”

  “I missed you,” she said. She pressed her foot against his thigh.

  “I’m not sure I believe that. You need to lie better.” He curled an arm around her and pulled her closer, nearly into his lap. She settled comfortably against him. It had been a long four months of getting comfortable with him without the lingering effects of her heat. Every day, her omega-ness seemed to drift away, leaving her as a shadow of herself but letting her feel in control.

  Layla unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt. “I bake you a cake, and this is how you repay me,” she teased.

  “Shameful behavior, that,” he agreed. “How am I going to make it up to you?”

  She grinned and reached for his hand, twining their fingers together. He frowned, and his fingers twitched between hers. He was strangely terrible at holding hands. He’d do it, but he couldn’t be still. If it lasted too long, he’d get tense. She had thought he was just awkward with affection, but after so long, it began to hurt her feelings.

  “Oh, what am I doing wrong now?” she snapped.

  Jaxon grimaced. “It’s fine. You’re fine.”

  She pulled her hand away from his. “No, tell me. I want to know.”

  He sighed. “It’s beta. We don’t hold hands. It’s dangerous. I can’t fight if you’re holding me.” He laid her wrist in his hand so he covered her scent gland with his palm. “Alphas touch like this to hold their partner’s scent close to them, and I can let go at any time to protect you.”

  “Oh,” she said, staring down at the shackle Jaxon’s hand made around her wrist. It was just one more thing she didn’t understand. She should have been used to it. She touched his cheek right under the new scratch.

  He jerked away from her fingers. “Don’t.”

  “What happened?”

  He squeezed her wrist and looked away. “Raina had some opinions she should have kept to herself.”

  Layla’s eyes widened, and her heartbeat picked up. “Is she okay?”

  “You’re worried about her?” he growled, his mood souring.

  Anger roiled in her chest, his emotions overtaking her own. “You can defeat anyone. Of course, I’m more worried about her.”

  “If you’d rather purr your pretty words at her—”

  Layla pushed away from him, but he didn’t release her wrist. “Stop! I never said that. What’s the matter with you?”

  “You’re going to leave. That’s what’s wrong with me.”

  He finally released her, and Layla slid to the other end of the couch. “What? I’m not… why would you think that?”

  “Months, Layla. It’s been months.” He stared at her, anger and despair waring on his face.

  Fear trickled up her spine from deep in her stomach. “You said you’d give me time—”

  “I have! I did! I gave you what I could. Everyone keeps asking ‘when.’ Raina, Rolland, Damian, fucking Aslin. ‘When?’ Like this is something I can control.”

  Layla stared at the woven pattern of the couch. Bite. He meant her mating bite. She didn’t think about it most days. What they had together was good enough. It was safe.

  Jaxon shuddered beside her, his hands clenching on nothing. “I can’t make you bite me. We’ve already proved that. I thought it was just because you were sick. You needed more time. I don’t know how much time I have in me.”

  She let out a small breath. “I like what we have.”

  “Because you have everything. You have my teeth, my touch. You have my affection and my protection. You don’t have to give anything back.” He looked around the room, anywhere but at her. “You can feel my emotions, and what do I get? I don’t know what you’re thinking. I don’t know what you want. I bring back those stupid school forms, and you don’t touch them. You don’t ask for anything I can’t— I try to— It’s all fucked, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

  “I didn’t ask you to fix it.”

  “You didn’t ask me for anything. You never ask me for anything. I assume you don’t want anything. You don’t want to be here. You don’t want… me.”

  “You said you wouldn’t give me back to them. That’s what I wanted.”

  “I’m not giving you back to them. I’m giving you your freedom.”

  Layla rubbed the scent gland on her wrist, soothing herself. She hadn’t known he was so upset about it. He had kept his fear to himself. She thought they were doing so well. She stared up at him. “You’d let me go. You would let Damian break our bond.”

  He grunted, not looking at her, and her chest ached hard. “Yes.”

  She stared at him. She couldn’t believe him. He’d been a selfish asshole all his life. What the hell was he doing now? “Even though what happened to Hera—“

  “I know what fucking happened to Hera. I was there. I saw. She was my friend. She trusted me, and I couldn’t stop her,” Jaxon snarled. He stared at Layla for a long moment, then looked away again. “Don’t worry about me. Do what you need to do.”

  His chest ached, and she could feel it. It was too painful. Too much. She wanted to run away from it. Let Damian take Jaxon away if it meant this fight would stop. But that meant tomorrow would be a day without her mate.

  She pulled her knees up to her chest and tucked her nose into the warmth of his pilfered sweatshirt. “Do you still want me?”

  “Yes,” he said without hesitation. “God damn me, yes.”

  Layla nodded and stared at him. “I’ll never be that perfect omega you want me to be.”

  Jaxon laughed bitterly. “I’ll never be the docile alpha you need.”

  They were both messed up. It strangely gave her some solace. It wasn’t just her that made their lives so difficult. It was just living that made it difficult.

  Layla took a deep breath. Breathed out. She moved slowly as if she’d frighten him away and settled over his lap, her knees on either side of his hips. He watched her suspiciously as she put her hands on his shoulders and ran her fingers through the whisps of hair on the back of his neck.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Something stupid,” she whispered as she leaned against his chest.

  Jaxon’s hands rested on her hips, his finger digging in hard enough to leave bruises. “Don’t tease. It’s cruel.”

  “I’m not. I want you.” She touched the scent gland under his jaw, and he breathed in sharply, lifting his chin. “I’m sorry this has been so hard. I’m sorry that I still don’t understand, but I need you. I love you, Jaxon.”

  Chapter 24

  Jaxon sucked in a breath, and his fingers spasmed over her hips. He looked away from her and back again. He opened his mouth, but, for once, nothing came out. He was speechless.

  She never thought she’d see the day.

  Layla pressed herself against him, her face close to his, breathing in the same air. She put her arms around his neck, holding tight — her breasts against his warm chest. She touched his throat, finding the scent gland under the right side of his jaw, and then slid her fingers down to the crux of his shoulder, touching the spongey mating gland.

  He shuddered under her and took in a shaky breath. “Layla,” he warned.

  Her hands shook. “Do you think I’m lying to you?”

  He breathed in through his nose, scenting her when he couldn’t trust her words. “No. You’re not lying, but I’m not a beta.”

  “I know.” She laid her head against his chest, listening to his heart. The rapid beat gave her the courage to turn her face up into his neck. She could smell him better there, cinnamon and musk, spice and sour sweat.

  He put a hand on the back of her neck, holding her against him. “I’m not a tame animal that you can pet and leash.”

  A smile tugged on her lips at his bold warning. “I’ve known you long enough to know that. I want to be your Omega.”

  Layla could feel his cock harden under her, and her core clenched wantonly. It had been several long months where he had only held her close during the night, his mouth on her mating gland, making her squirmy and wet, but he hadn’t attempted to mount her again, only slipping his fingers between her legs and rubbing her clit until she screamed into his mouth. He’d rut against her hip, breathing in her scent. She’d tremble, waiting for him to press for more, but he never did.

  She didn’t understand why he didn’t want more. She would have given it to him, but Shera’s accusation seemed to have disturbed him more than he let on.

  She stared into his eyes and rocked her pelvis against him. It felt deliberate and awkward, like some unnatural play-acting — not like when she was in heat when they moved as one. She slid her core over his cock, undulating her hips against him. He groaned and bucked up into her.

  “Shit,” he cursed. He put his hand around her throat, his fingers twitching, trying not to squeeze. “Mine.”

  “Yes,” she said. She squeezed her knees against his thighs. “I was thinking about you today. I wanted… I wanted to touch myself, but you said… you told me to, uh…”

  His eyes widened. “I told you not to touch yourself. Is that it?”

  She nodded and met his eyes for an instant before looking away.

  He stroked her hip. “Did you need help now?”

  “Yes, Alpha.”

  His fingers tensed on her throat, and she ground her wet center against his cock. Slick soaked through her pants and dampened his own.

  “Stop. Be still,” he said.

  Layla moaned as she stopped moving and closed her eyes, concentrating on his words. She shuddered and trembled. She was doing this by herself, on purpose. No heat or strange feelings were making her want him like this. It was her own thoughts and actions. Years of denial and want finally under her control.

  He slipped his hand into her tight leggings. She could hear his fingers slide through her wetness as she felt him graze over her clit. She gasped and rose up on her knees to escape his fingers.

  “Shh, don’t run away.” He pushed her down lightly.

  “I’m… Alpha, please.”

  “Back down, Omega.”

  She snarled at him, but she sunk down, his fingers entering her as she did.

  It wasn’t all one smooth motion. She jerked up again when his fingers moved inside her, but she took a deep breath and went again. Jaxon praised her in quiet whispers, swiping his thumb over her clit.

  She moaned and panted in his ear as he opened her up and soothed her nerves.

  He grabbed her hips to lay her on her back, but she pushed him back to sitting. He went easily with only a small, aroused growl.

  “I need it like this,” she said.

  Jaxon nodded and grabbed the hem of her sweatshirt, pulling it up and off, and then her undershirt.

  Layla slid to the side to kick off her leggings, which wasn’t going well at all until Jaxon pulled them off her feet along with her panties.

  “Shit,” she whispered. “Did that kill the mood?”

  “No,” he snapped and pulled her on top of him again and proceeded to fumble in getting his own belt unbuckled.

  She quickly helped him, pulling out his cock and gripping it tight. Jaxon groaned and rolled his shoulders into the back of the couch.

  He reached for her again, his fingers dipping inside her. “What do you want, kitten?”

  She burned — her blood and her skin both. She needed him to touch her. She needed him inside her. “Alpha,” she begged. “Please. Fuck me.”

  He lifted her, steadying her on her knees.

  “Do you want something inside you?” he asked in a rough growl.

  She nodded frantically. She needed him. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment, but damn, she needed him. His cock pushed against her core, not quite pressing inside.

  “Your turn. Show me how much you want it.”

  She sank down and cried out. It had been too long, and he was huge. He felt even bigger outside of the haze of heat. She bit her lip and sank further onto him. Her insides pinched.

  She bit her lip. She needed him to touch her scent glands. She needed him to make her calm and relaxed and at ease. “Help,” she peeped.

  “No,” he said. “You can do it yourself.”

  She tensed at his reprimand, but he was right. His hands stroked down her sides — soothing but refusing to do more.

  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her face into his neck. “Ah, ah. Jaxon,” she whispered.

  “Shh, good girl,” he said. “Up a little and down again.”

  She moved as he instructed, but he didn’t try to help her, letting her do all the work of fucking him. Breaking herself open, making room. Possessing him. Holding him. Arousal simmered under the pain, then through it and over it. She relaxed as she continued to move smoothly up and down, rocking against him.

  She pumped up and down, and he began to move with her, his hips pushing up into her. She panted as she moved. It was far more of a workout than she expected. It felt good. Oh so good.

  He pulled her down again, and she felt his knot press against her. How was that supposed to fit inside her? “Oh.”

  “Shh,” he begged. He held her still as he moved, friction and pressure driving her to madness. She dug her fingernails into his shoulder and pushed down harder until he was completely sheathed within her. She gasped, and he groaned.

  “Layla,” he panted.

  She kissed him. Her name. It was all she ever wanted from him. She needed to be more than an omega. She needed to be more than a body and pheromones that drove him crazy. He was more than that to her.

  Jaxon nuzzled her neck, licking at her mating gland, but she grabbed his hair, pulling his head to the side. She found the mating gland at the apex of his shoulder with her mouth. He tasted like burning.

  “Fuck. Fuck.” He slammed into her harder, nearly dislodging her from his lap.

  “Mine,” she grunted. He belonged to her.

  Layla bit down. Fire and blood sizzled across her tongue. She groaned, and Jaxon may have screamed. She couldn’t tell. The cinnamon of his pheromones burned through her, making her tremble, and she squeezed his hips between her knees.

  She ground against his cock, her clit against his pubic bone.

  Jaxon groaned and wrapped his arms around her. “Yes, fuck. Thank you. Fuck. I love you.”

  She bit down harder. He loved her. It was true. It was more than just hormones. They were together. Mated. Alpha and Omega.

 

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