Feral (The Wrong Alpha 2)

Damn it, he really needed to get a grip. But it was so hard, pun intended, when he was surrounded by Westcliff’s scent and pheromones and could feel him so very close. The prickling of the alpha’s stubble against his cheek felt so good, and Jules couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like against his stomach, his inner thighs, his buttocks.

“All right,” Westcliff said in a low voice, pecking the corner of Jules’s mouth. “No distance. If this is what you want.”

Jules nearly whined, his mouth searching blindly, needing. It was pure bliss as his lips rubbed against Westcliff’s firm jaw, the alpha’s scent so thick in the air he felt high on it.

“Sweetheart,” Westcliff said hoarsely, nuzzling his cheek. “Baby. I fucking adore you, you know that, right?”

Jules shivered, warmth curling around his heart and spreading downward until it turned into a needy heat between his legs. He burned. He ached for him, for this alpha who didn’t belong to him but felt like his. It was so very wrong, to feel this for him, but Jules’s body didn’t care. It wanted. It wanted this alpha. His touch. His mouth. His cock. His knot.

“Tell me what you need,” Westcliff said, kissing his cheek, his breath hot and unsteady, before nipping his way down Jules’s jaw, to his neck.

Jules could only soak it up, his head spinning and his gaze unfocused. He didn’t understand what was going on anymore, but fuck it, he’d take anything Westcliff would give him. Anything.

When Westcliff’s mouth closed on his scent gland, Jules jerked, as if electrocuted, slick running down his leg, his hole aching. He wanted to be touched there. He wanted to be fucked.

“Tell me,” Westcliff said.

Jules squeezed his eyes shut. “Can’t you smell it?”

He had thought he was stinking of arousal and lust, but Westcliff shook his head against his neck. “Your scent is still too faint to discern any nuances,” he said, taking a deep breath. “It’s not just the suppressants. Until the mark fades completely, your scent will be faint. Mated omegas stop smelling strongly to other alphas.”

Right. Westcliff wasn’t his alpha. As if Jules needed another reminder of how wrong this was. His mate had died just a few months ago. He had no business acting like a bitch in heat with another alpha, no matter how good this alpha smelled to him.

“Tell me,” Westcliff said again, his tone like a demand. An order. Was it sick that it only made Jules more aroused?

Alpha, his hindbrain thought dazedly. Stop fighting it, tell him everything, he’ll take care of you.

Jules buried his burning face in the hollow of Westcliff’s throat and breathed in deeply. Feeling drunk on alpha pheromones, he guided their joined hands to his crotch, any semblance of shame and propriety forgotten. He pressed Westcliff’s hand against his cock, shuddering at the contact.

He didn’t say anything. Couldn’t.

Westcliff went very still, just cupping the bulge for a moment that seemed to stretch into forever.

Jules whined impatiently, his cock throbbing under the touch.

“Babe,” Westcliff breathed out at last, his voice low and husky. “I don’t think we should—”

“I’m no innocent little virgin,” Jules snapped, lifting his head, his sexual frustration finally overriding his embarrassment and shame. “I’m still horny after my heat, that’s all. I want a cock. Give me yours.”

Westcliff stared at him like he’d grown a second head. But his scent thickened, becoming muskier and even more mouthwatering, the air charged with alpha pheromones.

“Come on,” Jules said, looking him in the eye. “I’m so horny right now any cock will do. You don’t want me to go looking for a knot, do you?”

Westcliff’s gaze darkened, his jaw tightening. “Stop saying such crude things. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Why?” Jules said, pushing his hips against Westcliff’s hand. Fuck, he was so hard he felt like crying from frustration. “Because I’m a noble omega? I had a mate before. I’ve been fucked and knotted—”

Westcliff growled, his eyes flashing and his claws sliding out.

Jules froze, a little stunned by Westcliff’s loss of control, but mostly, he was embarrassingly turned on by it. It was the first time Westcliff had acted like a Xeus in his presence, and it was more arousing than it should have been.

Westcliff closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His claws sank back into his skin, and when he opened his eyes again, they weren’t glowing anymore. But his scent remained thick and musky, his powerful body tense and rigid. And there was a very big bulge between his legs.

Jules licked his dry lips, his hole clenching over nothing. Fuck, he wanted him. He needed that inside of him. Now. “You’re going to be my alpha if you marry Liam,” he said hoarsely, scraping his nails against the bulge under Westcliff’s suit pants. “Aren’t you going to be a good alpha and take care of me?”