But her defenses were crumbling all around them now, falling away like a snake shedding its skin. The last remnants of Phoebe's beta identity might not yet be ready to admit defeat, but her body knew the truth. Her omega nature not only recognized her master but craved what only he could give her—his cock, his knot, and ultimately, the mark that would brand her as his and his alone.
Phoebe's eyes were unfocused, and she was keeping up a steady rhythm of sighs and moans. Even with her arms pinned and her legs spread wide, she still found a way to grind against him, arching and writing in a desperate attempt to feel his touch.
Roman's chest swelled with the deep satisfaction of ownership, of knowing this omega was bonding ever more tightly with him. The pleasure she was taking in his bed felt like a victory, but it also felt like a promise—the promise of a future in which neither of them fought against what was obviously meant to be.
Only moments ago, Phoebe thought she wanted to slink back to her sad little beta life.
Now, she was writhing and arching, willing him to take her—all of her. Roman knew he could safely release his grip on her wrists, that there was no way his omega would leave him once she'd absorbed the full force of her heat.
But Roman wasn't interested in playing things safe. He also knew that was one of that chief differences between him and the gorgeously tempting woman begging for his cock.
His omega was driven by pragmatism and reason. She'd had to be the responsible one in her family—he could see that now. What a toll that life must have taken on her, slowly leeching away her dreams until all she knew how to do was care for others, carving out an existence on the edges of life. The fact that she'd succeeded this long in keeping her family out of trouble while holding down a steady job was nothing short of amazing.
No wonder she'd dreamed of an anonymous life in a city far away.
But Roman would never settle for living on the margins. When he wanted something, he wanted it all—no half measures, no delayed gratification, no temperance. According to his mother, even as a toddler, he'd been ferociously determined—and from the moment his nature became clear, it surprised no one that he'd set out to make his own life.
But that life had been missing something. Roman now saw that the restlessness that had been his constant companion was the result of an incomplete life—but he'd never known what was missing until Phoebe came along.
He had to have her.
Not just a taste, either, like before. This was no quick fuck to get himself back in the saddle. Roman wanted all of her, as long as it took to learn every inch of her beautiful body by heart. They wouldn't stop until her voice was hoarse from calling his name, until they'd spent every ounce of strength and stamina either of them possessed until he'd spilled his essence inside her.
He wanted to prove once and for all who was in control, to give her so much pleasure that any thoughts of leaving were incinerated to dust. He wanted to make her see herself reflected in his eyes and know that he would take care of her better than anyone else in the world ever could so that she could finally let go of loving anyone other than him.
And so, after releasing Phoebe just long enough to peel off the clothes that were damp with her precious slick, that's exactly what Roman did.
Days of ecstasy blurred together, leaving Phoebe bobbing peacefully in a sea of sensual experience where thoughts ceased to be. There was a rhythm to the passage of time, pleasure building and building in a crescendo that led to higher and higher apexes of pleasure, followed by swirling, drifting rapture as their bodies restored themselves in preparation for more. Fulfillment and need seemed to overlap so that even while Phoebe was crashing through another round of orgasms deep within her, the cycle was building again.
And Roman's knot—oh, God, Phoebe craved it more and more each time. It was a fulfillment that she'd never come close to experiencing, that she'd never be able to put into words.
It was everything.
Eventually, everything receded, as gently as a tide going out under a harvest moon, the ancient design known only to the earth herself. If Phoebe's mind had been actively engaged, it all would have been too much. She would have never survived that much sensation.
When Phoebe arrived at this understanding, that her consciousness needed to retreat to let her primal omega identity come to the fore, something clicked into place for her. It was no wonder that she'd resisted right up until the moment she'd given in completely: there was simply no way the two sides of identity could both be in control at once.
But the fact that she was able to reason through such a complex thought told her that her heat must be coming to an end.
Awareness came back slowly, bit by agonizing bit. At first, Phoebe only noticed sensations like the coarse softness of Roman's hair under her fingertips or the scrape of his beard against her cheek. As time went on, sounds encroached on her private ocean, then light filtered into her vision.
And then came the moment when Phoebe passed from acknowledgment to the world around her, to genuine consciousness. Now when she urged Roman deeper or rode his cock with abandon, it was because she wanted to, not simply because she was driven to. When she called his name as she orgasmed again and again, she relished saying it.
Of course, there were still things that Phoebe had no control over, and probably never would. Like the way her entire body shook when his knot swelled inside her, or the pure exhaustion that seeped all the way down to her bones when she drifted down for the last time.
With her awareness back in place, Phoebe had a feeling she only remembered a fraction of the carnal acts they'd done over the past four days…but even those hazy memories were enough to make her want to sleep for the next week.
Even then, Phoebe doubted that her poor body would be fully recovered. Her muscles had never felt as stretched as they did now, nor her lungs so spent. It was as though she'd run marathons, one after the other, for four days straight.
Sex with Roman was amazing, but it was also athletic as hell. No one she'd been with before had prepared her for this level of intensity. Apparently, she'd only slept with amateurs before, while Roman was a goddamn Olympian.
Though if Phoebe were honest with herself…she'd done her share of urging him on, astonishing herself with her own stamina.
Now contentment settled over her so deeply that Phoebe thought she might lie in Roman's arms forever. His chest rumbled softly, the sound akin to a great cat's purring. After a while, he crooked a finger under her chin, lifting her gaze to his.
"You're back with me."
It wasn't a question. Somehow, Roman knew that her rational brain had returned.
It shouldn't surprise her. After all, what had he told her that right before she'd fallen deep into the thrall of her heat?
I can sense your emotions and intentions. I can smell them in the air. I can feel the energy they create vibrate off your body.
Strangely, the thought no longer frightened her. It was a deep comfort not to have to keep her guard up around Roman, something that was possible only because he would always know what was really going on inside her.
Someone who couldn't help but understand.
"I guess I am," she said, her cheeks warming. "You were right."
"About what?"
"That was exhausting. I should have taken the time to rest first."
"Only 'exhausting'?" Roman asked, raising his eyebrows.
It wasn't the answer he was looking for—and Phoebe didn't need heightened alpha senses to know why.
Roman wanted to hear her say that she was his now. That she belonged to him as much as anything else on his property.
And maybe she did. Maybe his touch had branded her like cattle. But then again…maybe not.
The gentle swirl of her returning thoughts ebbed and flowed in her mind, each one giving way to the next. It occurred to Phoebe that relationships, like emotions, were hard to define. Logic wasn't useful in evaluating them, and there was no set of rules to govern them.
Take her love for her family. If she were to make lists of her father and brother's good and bad qualities, the latter would far outweigh the former. Whitfields were flakes, petty criminals, social pariahs—but she still loved them.
And she always would.
With great effort, Phoebe lifted her hand and cupped Roman's cheek, her realization always slipping away to be replaced by new thoughts. She tried to hold on just long enough to reassure him.
"Not just exhausting. So many more things…but I'm too tired to sort them out right now. Can we talk about it after I take a little nap?"
Roman's mouth flattened to a thin line. It was clear that he wasn't pleased, but he wasn't angry, either.
"Of course," he said quietly, pulling up the blanket and tucking it gently around her shoulders.
As Phoebe nestled into the soft linens with a sigh, she realized that he meant to stay with her as she fell asleep. She had expected him to want to catch up on the work he'd missed for the last few days. It was a lovely surprise when he wrapped his arms around her, his heartbeat strong and steady, easing her aches and guiding her gently to sleep.
It was almost impossible to be afraid with Roman lying next to her.
She made a mental note to tell him that when they woke up from their little nap.
Chapter Fourteen
When Phoebe woke, night had fallen.
For a moment, she was disoriented, able to see nothing but the faint outline of the drapes that had been pulled across the window. She sat up fast, her heart pounding, knowing only that something was missing—but fast on the heels of that fear, the memories of the last few days rushed in, and Phoebe realized that her body had been aware of Roman's absence even before her mind caught up.
And a second after that, she caught the scent rising from the tangled linens in which she lay, Roman's unique blend of soap and amber, with notes of smoke and teak oil and coffee, as unique to him as his navy velvet eyes.
Yes, he'd been here recently—but he wasn't here now. Her heart still pounding, Phoebe tilted up her head the way she'd seen Roman do and listened.
While her omega senses would never rival Roman's, they were still sharp enough to hear his footfalls outside. Just to reassure herself, she pulled back the drapes and peered out. She spotted him sitting in a wooden Adirondack chair under the graceful boughs of a huge old redwood tree, gazing out over the distant mountains and the star-studded sky above, sipping from a mug that undoubtedly contained his beloved coffee. Phoebe couldn't make out his features in the moonlight, but she recognized his profile—the hair that was forever falling into his eyes, the muscular, broad shoulders.
Her sense of relief and comfort surprised her with its intensity.
Phoebe didn't know precisely when it happened, but sometime during her time here, she had formed a connection to Roman that went beyond emotion or even intuition, an actual physical link that grew restless in his absence and rejoiced in his presence.
She had always heard that omegas were like mindless shells of the women they'd once been, possessed by alphas in every way, indifferent to their fate. But nothing could be further than the truth. If anything, she felt more than she had before.
In fact, the thought of Roman disappearing—of him leaving one day and never coming back—made her feel physically ill, as though she'd ingested some sort of toxin. She didn't have to experience it to know that if her alpha truly went away, she'd continue to deteriorate. Hell, she wasn't even sure if she'd survive if he left her.
Phoebe let the drapes fall back into place and lit the small oil lamp on the nightstand, filling the room with a golden glow. She wanted a moment to think before she went to Roman—and find something to wear since there was no sign of her suitcase.
After washing her face, Phoebe did her best to tame her curls, which had become so tangled during her heat that it would take her hours to comb them out. But that could wait.
She found her clothes hung neatly in the closet, damp from being washed. At least now she knew what Roman had been doing while she slept. She decided to borrow one of his shirts until her own things were dry, though the chambray shirt came down past her knees even after she'd cinched the waist with the sash from one of her dresses.
There was a small mirror on the wall next to the closet. Phoebe peered into it, almost surprised to see her familiar face looking back, the only change a scratch along her chin that she must have picked up during their marathon session of lovemaking.
She found her shoes lined up neatly on the floor of the closet. As she pulled them on, Phoebe felt a vague sense of discomfort. It was only when she noticed that Roman had cleaned the mud from the pink fabric that she realized it was because she wasn't used to anyone doing things for her.
And while a little laundry and a swipe of a rag weren't exactly heroic measures, it felt really damn strange. After all, Phoebe was used to being needed, the one who kept disaster at bay and strove to achieve at least a semblance of order.
As time went on, her family depended on her more and more, while Phoebe hadn't depended on anyone since her mother passed away.
She stared down at her shoes, the ones her brother loved to tease her about, and frowned. She missed her family right as much as ever—but she didn't need them. Not the way she needed Roman. The fact was that her body was tense with the anticipation of being near him again—not uncomfortable, not yet, anyway, just…unsettled. Like she wouldn't be able to keep a thought in her head or accomplish even a simple task until she was near him again.
Despite having slept all day, Phoebe could feel the soreness in her muscles and the ache in her tender, chafed skin from the last four days as she moved through the house. She knew it shouldn't be a surprise—after all, she'd had one hell of a workout. Her body had been tested in ways she had never imagined, contorted into positions she wouldn't have thought possible.
She paused in the middle of the living room to work the kinks out of her ankle. As she looked around that the simple, well-kept furniture that she had polished to a shine, she felt a stab of homesickness. It wasn't quite as bad as before, but thinking about her own living room—filled with hand-me-downs and a giant TV that had fallen off the back of a truck—and knowing that it was getting dustier by the day, made her wish for a moment that she could be there to restore it to order.
Then she remembered that Holden and her dad were grown men who really ought to be able to take care of themselves. It wasn't the first time she'd entertained such a thought, but there was a subtle shift in Phoebe's feelings about them—almost an impatience for them to pick up the slack for once.
Interesting.
Next, she tried thinking about that rooftop cocktail party she'd always dreamed of attending, of the dress she'd imagined wearing and the exciting conversations she'd always hoped to have one day.
The familiar longing stirred inside Phoebe, along with regret that she'd never get to experience it. But again, the feelings had softened, her attachment to her old dreams diminished dramatically.
She was the same girl with the same dreams, but her altered biology had changed the way they guided her thinking. For once, she wasn't chasing after might-have-beens or wishing things were different. She was content simply to be…and to be here, with Roman.
When she opened the door, Roman didn't budge, though she knew he had heard her. He could detect her scent from much further away than this. She padded barefoot across the soft, dewy carpet of clover, breathing deeply of the crisp, clear air that held a hint of the autumn chill that was in store. The sky was even more dazzling now that the moon was setting, the light from a billion stars shining down on Roman's face.
She didn't blame him for not taking his eyes off the sky as she took up a spot on the simple wooden table next to the chair. She didn't speak a greeting—didn't need to. The silence that stretched between them felt perfectly comfortable.
After a long moment passed, Roman finally spoke, his tone inscrutable. "You should've stayed in bed. You st
ill need more rest."
"You're right. I probably should have."
He must not have expected her to agree, because he finally looked over at her, his brows knit in confusion. "So why didn't you?"
Phoebe shrugged. "You weren't there, and I wanted to find you."
Starlight reflected in his eyes, masking whatever he was feeling. Or maybe the light came from within him, from a burning intensity she didn't understand. "Were you worried I'd left you alone, or that you'd find me?"
Phoebe considered the question, wondering exactly what Roman was after. His tone was just as demanding, but there was a strange note to it that she had never heard before—nothing as obvious as fear or anger or any other strong emotion…more like an unfocused yearning.
But for what? It couldn't have anything to do with Phoebe, because Roman already had her. Had taken her, for that matter, many times over multiple days, in ways that Phoebe hadn't even known were possible.
Meanwhile, he was still waiting for an answer.
"Honestly, a bit of both." Phoebe struggled to be precise. It seemed very important right now that she make him understand. "I've never needed anyone before, Roman…especially not someone that I've only shared a handful of short conversations with."
He gave a sharp bark of laughter. "You think it's any different for me?"
"Well…yes, actually. This is your world. How long have you been living in the Boundarylands?"
"Twelve years," he said without hesitation. "Twelve years living by myself. Going to the trading posts once, maybe twice a year. Rarely talking to another living soul. Surviving on my wits and my grit. So do me a favor and remember that you're not the only one who isn't used to needing anyone."
His words were blunt, but they weren't deliberately cruel.
Maybe she wasn't the only one who had been calmed and centered by her heat. His rational tone made it harder for Phoebe to dismiss his words. Guilt sliced through her as she realized that she'd never really taken the time to see things from his perspective.
Roman: The Boundarylands Omegaverse: M/F Alpha Omega Romance Page 11
