Helios had trembled, jealousy boiling, envy stirring. And the rage that ballooned inside him had been incredible, like molten unfurling, lava rushing. It grew when she had pressed her hands to Carlos' cheeks when the Omega had stepped so close to her, Helios thought he might scent her, kiss her, claim her—His Alpha, his Alpha, his Alpha.
He'd shrilled, a call that had sent James stumbling to his knees and calling for Carlos.
There was a ringing in his ears after that, a pounding in his head. He was hyper-focused, extra aware that another was taking away his Alpha. His mate. His one. He'd snarled, retreating into the garden, dripping with need, shaking from the betrayal, from the strange awful mess of his mind. His body shook. His Omega had cried, whining and begging to set things straight, to take back what was his, to steal her and claim her. His Omega wanted their Alpha. He struggled, body rippling with the need to shred, destroy and make another bleed.
Quinn was just a Beta. He'd tried to remind himself, spun circles in the sun, hovering and sweating. Quinn meant nothing to him. And yet she did. He supposed he was simply coveting Carlos' ease with her. He simply wanted to eat and Helios was just hungry. He tried to soothe, tried to convince his fucked up mind, and yet God, he felt wronged. The searing remnants of his anxiety transformed him and clouded his mind.
Her truth had tasted like a bitter pill, filled with the sharp whisky of knowledge that he was mistaken. And yet, he was pleased, so pleased to settle in the arms of her, to find himself pressed against his Alpha, inhaling her peach. He'd resisted the urge to purr, to pancake himself upon her, and press his cheek against her throat. But he couldn't resist the urge to gyrate his hips, to soak her in his scent, cover her up with his sugar.
It felt good to claim her body as his; it felt better to kiss her and see the lust in his eyes. He was hungry, and she was just everything.
There was devotion dripping from his being, a bubbling in his body that told him what he needed, what he wanted the most in the entire world. Helios wanted to get on his knees, he wanted to worship her the way he worshipped his mates with his mouth open wide, and his eyes sparkling. He wanted to dip his tongue into where Quinn was the warmest, the gummiest, the juiciest. The parts of her that dripped honey syrup and tasted like life, the parts of her that were honest and greedy. Somehow he knew how her folds would feel on his lips: satin, silk, glossy drool, and softer than clouds. Somehow, he knew that her clit would be small enough to suckle in his mouth, small enough for his tongue to wrap and squeeze.
He'd tasted her once in dreams muddled with reality.
He just wanted to taste her again.
"P-please," he murmured, suddenly thirsty, suddenly needy. In his dreams, she'd squirmed under him, eyelids heavy, breath ragged, back arched. The flower of her centre was all ripe for his taking. The nourishment she'd give him had been too much. He'd felt nothing but satisfaction. The taste of her sparkled on his tongue. Bourbon and honey.
"You've had enough," she drawled, and he shot her a look, nose scrunching.
"No."
"Helios…"
"I'm hungry," he whined, beg tinged in his throat. He felt small, felt needy. "Please Quinn, just a taste."
There was no one there to judge him, no one there to look and see how much he was falling apart for Quinn, like crumpling petals, like cotton candy in a drink. And so she turned to look at him, tapped her cheek. And with his mouth swollen from her kisses, his heart had soared with the need to lean in for another. One that Quinn acceded to with a thumb to his chin, holding him steady. His belly had warmed like hot rain, pleasure rushing up, gooseflesh over skin, lips over hers—bubbly.
"Please Alpha," he breathed against her mouth, trying to snatch another kiss, another luxurious dollop of emotions, all gooey whipped and candy-sweet. Saliva danced between them, crystal pearls on a string. The kiss felt too close to his heart and still, his mouth pressed against the air, tongue lapped too close and yet too far from the warmth of her. She tasted like nectar, like roselle and gin, all smoked and minty. It filled him, but not enough. Gods, Helios was parched. "Please, please, please."
"So whiny," she chuckled. He continued.
"Please, please, please, please, please."
Their noses brushed, breath mingled, hers was sweeter, maybe because of her scent. And Helios flushed with anticipation, wanting nothing, wanting everything. Please need me too. His eyes were glazed, his breath all foggy in the cold air, and yet sweat beaded dewy on his skin. And all he could think of was that the sunshine in Quinn's dark eyes turned them into a sweet, sweet autumn. She giggled. He warmed.
"I'll keep saying it," he warned.
"Of course you will."
Suddenly, he didn't fucking care about what the world thought of women, what his mind thought of Alphas, especially ones that resembled Euodia. He didn't fucking care that Quinn was just temporary. It seemed to slip his mind, stirred into thoughts of sex, of warm flushed sweetness, of that shade of carnation pink on her cheeks. Tangled sheets, hot limbs, silky thighs. He thought of the thumb that brushed against his bottom lip, the smile on her lips. He thought of the sparkle in her eyes. He thought of nothing but her. He thought of sinking into her.
And Helios swallowed, and drank deeply, chest crushing in the weight of that moment. He felt as if her rejection might sting. "I want you so bad," he admitted. "I really lik…" He paused, a stutter, twisting his tongue. His belly flopped. "I really want you."
"Helios," his name was so sweet on her tongue, so velvety in her throat. A low sigh. Somehow, he knew Quinn couldn't say no, couldn't resist him. There was something in his chest that was all warm, gold and syrupy that knew she would say yes. "Goddamn it alright."
He shuddered, eyes wide, suddenly lost, suddenly heavy. But he sank to his knees, fingers climbing down her thighs, and pressed himself to the ground, forgetting that he didn't care for Alphas, completely submitting to this Alpha. He sat on his ass, cotton mouth, fingers on her pants—his pants. And then he was impatient, weak, fumbling with the clasp, the buttons. His hands were shaking as he sucked in cold air and felt too fucking hot in the snow.
He was drunk on the humid exhales, cheek pressed to her thighs. Her hips jiggled. Shitty panties that had grown thin and invisible from her arousal. He was transfixed by the gummy centre, by the slick, sticky pool, the fat lips and the tip of her tiny clit. He knew it would taste so good, so fucking amazing. Her lust spiked, and he groaned.
"Greedy," she commented, infuriatingly gorgeous.
"Thank you," he breathed like a puppy. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."