Faith & the Dead End Devils (Sweet Omegaverse, #8)(18)

Bear shifted, and I fought the urge to claw and grab at him. "Gimme a sec. Sending Chance out for the night."

It was on my tongue to protest that too. I trusted Bear. Chance was nice. I had so little security, I wanted to latch on to every new piece. Cling to them and build them up around me, pieces of my nest. I held my tongue, listened to the murmured exchange of the men.

"I'll be back tomorrow, birdy," Chance called, and then the door shut again and fabric rustled.

"You're shaking," Bear said.

"T-trying not t-to," I said.

"Don't fight it. Let your body shake it out. Take a deep breath."

Chance had lit a bunch of candles for my bath and then left me to pick and choose which products I wanted to add to the water. It was silky now, the surface still thick with bubbles, and I tried to take Bear's advice, to breathe and accept the shudders rushing through my muscles. It helped a little.

The candles made the room confusing for me, but I understood the enormous soft brown shadow moving next to the large tub. Bear tied his long black curls back, and I squinted again at the dark blur between his legs, black hair and red-brown cock.

He laughed, and I realized some of the shaking had subsided. "That look on your face could make a grown man wither if he didn't know better. Scoot forward."

I had to drain some of the water out before Bear could sit down in the bath with me. We finally settled with his legs stretched around me, chest and cock at my back, arms wrapped over my chest. Calm rushed over my head, down into my chest, and all the way to my toes. I grasped the hand I'd bitten, tracing the mark with my fingertip.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"No, you're not," Bear answered.

I blinked. There was a whisper of humor running through me, another thread of worry, and I suddenly wondered if the feelings were…mine.

"What do you mean?"

Bear's hand turned, tangling our fingers together, my smaller palm nestling easily into his. "You're not sorry, and you don't need to be."

I swallowed, pressed the heel of my hand into his, rubbed our skin together and studied the sharp edges of the bite. He was right about me not being sorry, but I wasn't sure about the rest.





My eyes widened, cup at my lips and small, sweet pill on my tongue. My throat convulsed, and Bear held my hand steady, coaching me.

"Breathe, Butterfly."

No one ever fed me pills. It even tastes like ibuprofen. Just drink the water.

"You don't have to take the pill," he said. I frowned, swallowing a gag, and Bear cleared his throat. "I mean, I want you to, but—"

I sucked in a deep breath, opened my mouth wide, and choked down the water, spluttering and praying that it took the pill down with it. Bear wiped my cheeks and pulled the cup away as I coughed and swallowed.

"Good girl," he said, cupping the back of my neck and drawing me in to kiss my forehead.

I was bundled up in my nest, shivering again, and Bear packed the new blankets he'd bought around me. He'd purchased a bunch of foam and a yoga mat, building me a small mattress that would fit into the closet, and I eyed the space. It smelled too new, but I had Bear's blankets and pillows and Chance's shirt with me to help.

Bear's bed was dressed with fresh blankets and pillows, nothing plush or soft like he'd gotten for me.

"I need y-you," I whispered.

Bear sniffed, and I realized he was scenting for arousal.

"I n-need the distraction. You feel good." And I felt sick, but that had been the case even before I'd taken the pill. My body was playing tricks on me.

Bear grunted and shifted, twisting on my makeshift bed. He lowered me down into the pillows, his arms wrapped around me. The nest was dense now, like lying in a cloud, but Bear was heavy around me and hard with muscle. I liked the contrast.

For several minutes Bear did nothing else, just slowly relaxed on top of me, giving me his weight. The closet was too narrow to wrap both of my legs around his hips, but with a shift and a squeeze I managed to hook one around his back. The fabric of his sweatpants, the hard angles of his hips, pushed into me, and I sighed at the perfect distraction I'd been hoping for.

Bear's purr started, vibrating against my breasts, loosening my muscles just enough to understand my own pliable shape in his arms. The way my back curved up, hips pinned down, the arch of my neck to press my face to his throat.

"Better," Bear observed, and I nodded. His nose nuzzled my ear and I shivered. My perfume bloomed, and I realized it'd gone acrid earlier, sweetening now in earnest.

I whined as he hunched, pulling his chest away from mine, but the sound was softened as his lips brushed over my forehead again, down my nose with feather-light touches, his breath rushing over my skin. So gentle. The tightness in my head eased, but I knew it couldn't be the medication yet. It was this alpha.

By the time he reached my lips, he'd touched every other spot on my face and I was arching up, little begging notes in my throat. The press of his mouth to mine was as soft as the kisses and brushes, just our lips learning the way we fit together. Bear's purr thickened and his hands slid down from my shoulders, pushing my breasts into his chest, his hips carving forward into mine.

He was the definition of an alpha, the fantasy of a man I'd been picturing since I was a teenager.