Chapter 15:
Fenrir woke lying on his stomach. His arms were chained to the headboard of an unfamiliar bed, his ankles spread and attached to the bottom legs of the king-sized piece of furniture.
He lifted his upper body as much as he was able, moaning when that drew his attention to the thick object stuffed into his back entrance, keeping his hole stretched and wide. The object rubbed against his insides when he shifted, and he bit down on his bottom lip, instantly drawing blood.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Oberon’s clear order came from the opposite side of the room, and Fenrir had to rest most of his weight on his left shoulder to be able to catch sight of him.
The alpha looked exhausted, perched on a windowsill, bright sunlight streaming in behind him, casting his features in shadow. His arms were crossed, and he’d changed his clothes, though the suit pants were still a shade of cream. The whitebutton-up shirt he wore had half the buttons left undone, exposing tanned skin that instantly had Fenrir’s blood pumping.
“Take this out.” His horny reaction had to be due to the object inside of him. He refused to believe it was because he actually wanted to fuck the alpha at a time like this. “What did you do to me?”
How’d he even end up here? Whereverherewas. He ached all over, like he’d run miles, and memories were a hard thing to grasp onto.
“What do you think I did?” Oberon asked cryptically, and Fen scowled.
“I don’t know.” They’d had sex in the car…and then again, later, after the alpha had drugged him. Fenrir couldn’t really blame him for that part, since they did have a binding contract, and it could be argued that Fen was trying to get out of it with his shortened heat. But…What happened next? “I didn’t feel good after we’d shared my heat.”
“It lasted a while. Longer than most.”
“How long?”
“Five days.”
Fenrir scowled. “You gave me a strong dose on purpose. Was it meant as a punishment?”
The alpha’s jaw ticked. “Is that how the Wardrobe usually dealt with you? Sexual punishment when you didn’t stay in line?”
“Not exactly.” Their species and sex went hand in hand. Pheromone regulation required it of them, so it shouldn’t be surprising that Michelle chose to use inhibitors and inducers as weapons against product.
If an alpha or omega skipped too many ruts/heats in a row, they’d suffer from pheromone repletion. If they were forced to have too many, they risked depletion.
Fenrir had never had a heat last more than three days, but he wasn’t typically given inducers, since that state of being made him dangerous and harder to control. But this time, he’d had a proper partner with him, an alpha who had knotted him. The vague recollection of waking and feeling like shit didn’t add up.
Being knotted should have left him feeling great—at least, in the sense that his pheromones would have been regulated, and his heat would have been satisfied. The muscle aches and discomfort in his rear had been expected, but the rest…
“I’ve felt like that before,” he realized with a sickening feeling. His stomach dropped, and the temperature of the room followed suit, though not to dangerous levels.
Not this time, anyway.
But he’d done it before. He could recall that now as well.
Remembered shattering the doorknob and trying to escape.
The alpha capturing him.
Learning about what he truly was.
He’d…called his Butcher, hadn’t he?
Good Light.
He had.
The alpha had called the Butcher of the White Frost. Why? Fenrir racked his brain, but the terror that rose like bile up the back of his throat made it difficult to think clearly.
“Relax, omega,” Oberon warned, keeping his place in front of the window, forcing Fenrir to remain in that uncomfortable position in the process in order to see him. “You’re safe.”
“Like hell!” he snarled and tugged on his bindings, an agitated sound slipping out of him. “Untie me! Let me go!”