“Yes.”
“Mine to plug.”
“Alpha.”
“What is it, precious? You said you’d had enough.”
“I was wrong,” Fenrir’s tone turned desperate and he didn’t even care. “It’ll never be enough. I’ll never get enough of you. Knot me, King, please. I need it. I need to feel close to you. Need to feel—”
Oberon’s other arm wrapped around his chest, pinning them back to front, and then he drove into him hard enough Fenrir momentarily lost vision.
He came, hot spurts of come flinging across the room, covering the floor in creamy white. Fen howled when the alpha went off within him, his knot swelling quickly, shoving past his walls and linking them together for the next few minutes with no way of escape.
“I’ll never let you go, Fenrir,” Oberon promised, and then he sank his teeth into his neck, chuckling with his mouth full when that caused another orgasm to tear through Fen.
Chapter 23:
“You’re an idiot.” Fenrir held onto his alpha as they finally made it down the final slope and onto the pavement.
After several days trapped in the cave, the weather had finally let up enough for them to leave. Technically, they could have gone out yesterday, but Fenrir had allowed Oberon to persuade him to stay a bit longer.
There had been no signs of the Wardrobe, which should have meant they had plenty of time to make their way from the cave into town. It should have been an easy trip, since the snow had melted enough.
But of course, the alpha had to trip over some rocks and sprain his ankle less than halfway there.
Night had fully fallen by the time they made it into town. Oberon directed them down a tight alley between two stone buildings, most of his weight resting on Fenrir, feet slidingthrough puddles of melted snow, sloshing dirty water onto his pant legs.
“Tell me we’re going to find a doctor.” Fen adjusted his grip, more upset over the man’s soiled clothing than he seemed to be. “Aren’t you freezing?”
“They’ll dry eventually,” Oberon caught on to what was bothering him. “It’s no big deal.”
“You’re a dominant alpha who can take out a small army on your own, and yet you currently need your omega to carry you through the streets because you slipped and fell.”
“Is that why you’re so annoyed?” He quirked a brow. “Don’t like having a weak alpha, precious?”
Fenrir let out a little snarl and pointedly looked ahead. “Those pants need to be thrown out.”
“Did Michelle not provide enough clothing?” Oberon asked a second later.
“Everyone in the compound wears the same thing. After I was moved to the estate, I was given a broader selection. You know those people who like to dress up their pets? That was me.”
The Wardrobe held company parties frequently enough, and the Wolf was expected to attend as Michelle’s greatest accomplishment. Everyone within the upper tier knew who Fenrir really was, but the rest had been left in the dark, told only that he was a weapon she’d been developing for years.
“I was forced to wear a mask,” he said. “Though outsiders weren’t allowed to enter the estate, even during lavish celebrations, my mistress didn’t leave anything to chance.”
“Her efforts were in vain,” Oberon scoffed. “Levi found out anyway.”
“Right.” There was something sobering about knowing he’d never stood a chance. That he’d been doomed from the start. Fenrir thought he’d been so clever at the auction, but nomatter which member of the White Frost had bid on him, the end results would have been the same.
Or…maybe not.
How many alphas were as sporadic as Oberon King?
“I’m frustrated because I’m worried you’ll catch hypothermia in these wet clothes. You just had to fall into a snowbank.”
“It was either that or fall on you.”
“I would have preferred you fall on me.”