Page 7 of The Devil Takes

I tried not to think about how stupid I must look right now, lips swollen, eyes blown wide and dark.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure I even cared.

Later, I would. I’d pick apart this encounter till all I had were bitter memories about myself, but for now, I was content to bask in his touch.

Heat.

I couldn’t be in heat.

I couldn’t.

I wasn’t allowed.

“What are suppressants?” Haden asked, his voice curious, low. He had a strange way of speaking. Old-fashioned. Like he’d fallen right out of a storybook for overeager cock-sluts.

I didn’t really want to answer, especially because alphas tended to be dicks when it came to omega birth control. They either went one of two ways: the traditionalists who believed omegas didn’t have the right to make decisions about their own bodies, or the kind of alphas like my dad—the ones that thought omega was just a synonym for embarrassment. He’d been pumping me full of scent blockers and suppressants since the day I’d presented. My longest relationship was with two matching bottles full of little white pills. Dad had always put in every effort to stop the world from seeing that one of his boys had turned out wrong.

I’d never felt wrong until he’d told me I was.

I didn’t know what kind of alpha Haden was.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to, if learning his nature would ruin the taste of him on my tongue, or the way I craved him inside my body.

“What are suppressants?” Haden asked again, endlessly patient.

Usually when people asked me questions multiple times, fists or anger got involved. Not now, though. But I was still conditioned to jump when I was told to—so I spoke, even though it was the last thing I wanted.

I just wanted him to touch me again.

“Suppressants make it so I don’t go into heat. So that I don’t feel the things the others feel. Block scents. Feelings. Whatever the fuck else.”

“Why would you want that?” he asked, clearly curious.

Why did I want that?

I didn’t know.

I couldn’t remember.

Everything that had happened before seemed so very far away now. My skin was hot, my hole slick and empty as my fingers itched to do something—anything—to ease the ache of my rock-hard cock.

“I don’t know,” I said. Dumb, as always. “I’m just on them.”

Haden made a noise, contemplative, like he was mulling over what I’d said. Clearly, I’d made a face or something because he asked, “Why does being off of them scare you so?” His fingers stroked through my hair, rubbing behind my ears till I mewled, then flinched, ashamed of the noise.

I’d never made sounds like this before. Breathy ones. Embarrassing ones.

Even jerking off was done silently, my teeth biting into my pillow, my sheets slick with cum.

“I have to be on them,” I said again, because I didn’t know what else to say—what he wanted me to say. But he didn’t let it go. Huffing with anger, I glared at him.

I just wanted his dick, not a full-blown conversation.

“Why?” Haden asked again, nosy fucker.

I growled in frustration, eyes narrowed at him because this round of twenty questions had scared away my irrational fear. Thinking was getting harder. So was my dick. Slick rubbed between my cheeks, dripping onto the ground, the chill winter air no longer creeping inside my bones.

The heat that burned inside me was too powerful even for a night as cold as this one.