Buried and Shadowed (Branded Packs #3)(10)

And though it wouldn’t make others bat an eye at the sight, he knew he couldn’t have both of them. Mandy was so sweet, so innocent, and from what he’d seen, in the sights of another wolf. Theo.

And Gibson…Gibson wasn’t for him. Even before he’d become the Omega, he was too remote, too self-sacrificing to be with a Foreseer. The wolf needed to be with someone who was whole since he gave so much of himself.

And that wasn’t Oliver.

He sighed, but his cock didn’t seem to pay attention. And because of that, he gripped himself, using soap to make lather as he squeezed the base. It wouldn’t be wrong if he thought of them while doing this…as long as they didn’t know. People fantasized about others while getting themselves off all the time.

And if this had been the first time he’d done it, he might have believed that. Yet Oliver knew he’d crossed that line weeks ago. So now, as he pumped his fist and rocked his hips, he would do what he had to do, what he needed to do, and live with the consequences.

He squeezed himself again, his pace increasing as he imagined Mandy on her knees in front of him, taking him into her mouth. She rode Gibson’s face, her eyes wide and filled with passion. He imagined Gibson fisting himself as he licked their lover, and Oliver groaned, coming against the shower wall. His body shook, but this time for a whole different reason and he turned off the water, a little embarrassed with himself.

He’d gone off a little fast for his tastes, but he knew it was only taking the edge off at this point. The next time he faced either Mandy or Gibson, he would have to try to clear his mind of what they looked like when they came with him. Not that he actually knew that, but he’d imagined it enough that he could at least picture what he thought they’d look like in the throes of passion.

There was something clearly wrong with him that he could come so soon after a vision of death and damning.

He’d survived the vision, however, and that had to count for something. And if just the thought of those two could bring him some form of…life…then he’d take it.

But there was something wrong with him nonetheless.

He dressed quickly in a pair of old jeans and a T-shirt that had seen better days. It wasn’t as if he would be seeing anyone today. No one came to him for help. They didn’t want to know if he’d seen their deaths. Of course, it wasn’t always that clear. He’d seen deaths that had played out just as he’d seen them, but most of the time, it was more of an omen, a warning of what could happen. He did his best to warn whom he could, but sometimes, things like old age couldn’t be stopped.

And sometimes, the visions were like they were last night, where they didn’t truly make sense. He didn’t know if Cole would be fighting a dark entity one day. He didn’t know if Gibson and Mandy would be alone when they fought off their attackers. He just knew that change was coming for them all.

And he had to figure out what to do about that.

With a sigh, he padded out to his porch, annoyed that he hadn’t made himself coffee, and sank down to the old wooden steps. His head hurt, and he knew he needed a dose of caffeine to make it through the day. It was barely dawn, the first light just peeking over the tall trees surrounding his home. If he listened carefully, he could hear the sounds of Anya and Cole waking up for the day and the cubs snoring in their beds. Of course, since he knew his sister and new brother-in-law a little too well, he blocked out their voices—Cole was a little…loud in the mornings. There were just some things he didn’t need to know. That was another reason why he’d been happy with Anya moving out, even if she was only a little across the way.

His other neighbor, however, well, he’d listen to him all day if he could.

As if he’d conjured him from thin air, Gibson slid through the trees, two cups of coffee in his hands. His hair was disheveled, long, and hanging in his face. He’d put on a white T-shirt, but Oliver was pretty sure it was inside out. The other man had also put on jeans, but they were riding so low that either the wolf had lost even more weight, or he hadn’t buttoned them.

Oliver did his best to not swallow his tongue at the sight.

“I didn’t scent coffee from your place so I brought you some,” Gibson growled. “I need caffeine if I’m going to be up at this ungodly hour.” He handed over a cup and Oliver nodded. “I don’t know how you like your coffee, so black’s going to have to do.”

He sat down next to Oliver and sighed.

“Black’s fine,” Oliver said softly. “Black’s just fine.” He paused. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” They sat there in silence, drinking their coffee and watching the morning come.

His bear settled down, enjoying the way Gibson was so close. They weren’t touching, but they were seated close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off the other man. Oliver took a deep breath and knew it was a mistake. The Omega’s rich scent washed over him and he had to hold back a groan.

Instead of doing something like acting on his instincts, he ran a hand through his wet hair and grimaced. He needed to at least brush the mass when it was at this length. Since it went past his shoulders, he usually had it back in a ponytail, but he’d slept roughly, and had showered without bothering to wash it because he’d just needed the water sluicing down his skin. Now he had a tangled mess that matched his rough beard that had grown past his chin.