"Actually, that's a cultural convention," she said, "not a tangible fact."
He obviously didn't like that answer because he stepped forward, forcing Cassidy to take a step back. She couldn't go far, though. After only a few inches, her heels hit the wall.
Cassidy tried to move around him, but it was like trying to scoot around a mountain. It couldn't be done.
She was trapped, so she tilted her head back and looked up at Samson's eyes.
"Then what about my knot?" he said. "You've been studying us long enough to know that an alpha's knot only forms when there's a bond."
Fuck. Cassidy worried her lower lip with her teeth for a second while she thought. She'd forgotten about that.
Well, not forgotten. She didn't think she'd ever be able to forget the sublime feeling of Samson expanding inside her and pushing her to the physical brink of pleasure.
But she had woken up wondering if it was just a vivid hallucination induced by an overload of endorphins and other hormones. Because obviously, it couldn't have actually happened.
So appearances had to be wrong. He had to be wrong.
"You couldn't have had a knot," she said. "Only an omega can coax a knot. The changes in the vascular and nervous systems upon climax with a beta cannot—"
"Enough!" Samson threw back his head and roared the word. "Don't you think I know my own goddamn knot? I don't care what your science says—your science is wrong. Study me all you want, it's not going to change this."
He grabbed her hand and pressed it against his cock. She felt it grow—huge and hard as steel under her fingers. The feel of it, heavy against her palm, made Cassidy's body betray her. She gasped, and her knees weakened.
"You hide behind science. You pretend not to see what's right in front of you," Samson continued, raising his other hand and brushing his thumb against her nipple. "You came into this room last night, wanting me to take you in my bed. Wanting my knot and everything that came with it."
Had she?
She had been curious about his room…but not from a research standpoint.
No. She'd wondered what it would be like to lie in his arms on that vast mattress.
To be bent over the foot of the bed…
To kneel between his legs and take as much of his beautiful cock as she could into her mouth…
To throw her head back in ecstasy as he brought her to climax after climax with his lips and fingers and those deep, deep growls of approval…
Cassidy snapped herself back from her thoughts to find Samson watching her, his expression growing more intense by the second.
"I was drunk," Cassidy tried, "and…and under extreme emotional stress…"
It was hard to keep her thoughts and words straight when he was touching her like that, demanding her body to respond to him…and him alone.
"You didn't fuck me last night because you were drunk," he said. "You fucked me because you'd never wanted something so much in your life."
Goddammit, he was right again.
But it was so much easier to blame the whiskey Ty had given her. Just like it was easy to blame Ian, and the university, and all the unreasonable expectations and stress piled on her shoulders.
Cassidy let out a soft groan. None of those had caused her to sleep in Samson's bed last night.
The truth was she could study the possible contributing factors for months. Pheromones probably had something to do with it, as well as an evolutionary preference for strong, virile mates. Diverse elements such as facial symmetry and vocal timbre could affect sexual attraction.
But that didn't explain her very unscientific desire for Samson the man, a desire so powerful she was willing to set aside all the hard data she'd assembled about alphas. It didn't explain why, after literally being exhausted to the point of unconsciousness just hours before, slick was already pooling between her legs.
It sure as hell didn't explain why she was just inches away from forgetting everything she knew and throwing herself into this doomed affair.
And that thought was terrifying.
Everything that Cassidy knew, everything she had staked her career on, depended on science. Logic. Reason.
If she abandoned those, she didn't know who she would be.
"My career is all I have."
Samson's eyes darkened, and when he spoke, his words were dangerously hard. "Not anymore."
Samson cupped the back of her neck and kissed her.
There was nothing tender about it. His teeth grazed her lips. His tongue claimed her mouth with almost savage brutality.
Seizing her ass in his hands, he pulled her against his hard length, and Cassidy's feet left the floor, dangling uselessly.
He pivoted around, lowering her down onto his bed. Then he dropped to one knee and pushed her legs as wide as they would go. For a moment, he only gazed at her pussy, making a rumbling sound of pleasure before putting his head between her legs.
Cassidy threw her head back against the mattress and closed her eyes. She bit into her lower lip…waiting. Anticipating the heated touch of his mouth against her vulva. The thought alone was enough to make her gush with slick.
But Samson made her wait a little longer.
He splayed his gigantic palm across the plane of her belly, making her feel both small and precious at the same time.
"Tell me what happens on an alpha's bed," he demanded.
Cassidy swallowed down hard. She knew what he wanted, and even though it went against everything she'd ever been taught, she was willing to swallow her pride and give it to him.
"An alpha takes his mate."
"That's right," he said, sounding pleased for the first time this morning. "When I fill you with my knot, you'll know that you're mine."
Cassidy gave a shaky nod, but it wasn't enough for him.
"Say it."
Something about the natural dominance of his voice stilled the torment inside her.
"Yes. I'll be yours."
She must have given the right answer because he stopped toying with her. He flicked her clit with his tongue, a single stroke, light as a butterfly.
And Cassidy went off.
The orgasm shattered her, wracking her body with a lightning flash of pleasure. Samson shoved a finger inside her, and her pussy spasmed around it.
"That's it," Samson growled against her clit, as he slipped a second finger inside her…
And then another. His fingers were as massive as the rest of him, and they stretched her tight opening, massaging and slipping further inside.
But no matter how hard and fast she came, it never sated the need to feel Samson's cock deep inside her.
He must have felt the same way because a second later, he shifted himself up and between her legs. Cassidy only had a heartbeat to feel his cock sliding against her clit and pussy lips before he—finally!—began to enter her.
The pressure was almost unbearable as he inched his way in. The muscles of his neck stood out, and his jaw clenched with the effort of going slow.
But this time Cassidy didn't want slow.
She bucked against him and felt his cock slide deeper and deeper. Samson let loose a guttural cry as he buried himself fully inside her. It only took seconds for the second wave of pressure to begin to build—and for Cassidy to start to come again.
Her body melted around him, stretching greedily to accommodate his girth.
This is heaven, she thought as she gave into sensation once again.
Every part of her was swept away. Every nerve ending, every pleasure point, everything she had ever known melted...until there was nothing left but Samson.
And that's when she felt it—the pressure that had taken her by surprise last night.
Except this time, she wasn't exhausted by hours of exertion. She wasn't barely holding on to consciousness by a string. She was rational and sober and very much awake.
Nothing stopped Cassidy from experiencing the sensation of Samson's knot swelling inside her—the primal feel of possession, the exquis
ite pleasure, the overwhelming feeling of completion.
Samson roared as they locked together, his come shooting, hot and powerful, inside her. Cassidy could barely breathe as she felt herself fill.
Once he'd spilled the last drop, Samson reached down and tangled his fingers in her hair. Tilting her head, he breathed a ragged whisper in her ear.
"Mine."
And Cassidy knew it was the truth.
She had no idea why. She had no idea how. But there was no more doubt.
She was Samson's woman.
Chapter Ten
Cassidy felt like she was floating. Absolutely floating.
She felt so good, so amazingly perfect, that she almost couldn't believe she was awake. She'd only ever felt this good in dreams.
But this was real.
Samson's knot had eased over an hour ago. When he'd finally pulled out of her, she'd expected him to roll over and fall asleep…just like every other lover she'd ever had. But instead, he'd climbed out of bed, pulled on a fresh pair of pants, and told her he was heading out to do some chores.
She should have known better. Samson wasn't like anyone else—alpha, beta, or otherwise. He was nothing short of amazing.
And all hers.
The thought sent a rush of pure bliss through her veins.
Of course, Cassidy's clinical brain knew it was just a trick of her nervous system. Right now, her post-sex body was flooded with dopamine, endorphins, and oxytocin. All of them working together to make her feel like she was closer to Samson than ever before.
Screw the science for once, she thought. She didn't give two shits what was causing this blissful feeling; she just wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.
Because it wasn't going to last long.
Even now, little tendrils of guilt were starting to creep in. While she was lounging around in bed, basking in the afterglow of another dozen or so mind-blowing orgasms, Samson was out there actually doing something productive with his day.
She needed to do the same.
So, why couldn't she force herself to get up?
As tempting as it was to blame her sore, overworked legs, she knew it wasn't anything physical that was keeping her down. It was all emotional.
She was hiding under the covers because the second she put her feet on the floor, she'd have to face this new reality.
The reality where she was no longer a Ph.D. candidate. Where she had nothing to do with the academic world. Where she was an intellectual outcast.
Shit. Talk about a splash of cold water to the face.
Cassidy let out a sigh as she threw back the covers and forced herself up. She found her clothes right where she'd left them—in a heap on the floor. She threw on her bra and panties but stopped at her pants.
Instead, she went to Samson's closet and flipped through a stack of neatly folded shirts. She picked out a blue flannel and held it up to her nose.
Dear God, it smelled just like him. Another wave of deep contentment washed over her.
Cassidy threw it on and buttoned up the front. The thing was huge on her, of course. The hem falling past her knees. But the fabric was soft and warm. She rolled the sleeves up to her wrists and cinched the waist with the belt from her pants.
Like something an omega would wear.
The thought made Cassidy stop mid-step on her way out of the bedroom.
Like…an omega. Something she could pretend but never be.
All the good feeling chemicals that had been rushing around in her head a second ago disappeared in a heartbeat.
Cassidy forced her chin up as she kept walking through the house and into the kitchen. She needed to do something useful. Something that would busy her hands and keep her head from drifting down dark pathways.
She gave a determined nod when she spotted a bag of flour and a brick of yeast.
Bread. There was something she could make.
Digging through the cupboard and shelves, she found the rest of the utensils and ingredients. Then she pulled up her sleeves and got to work.
Mixing and needing the dough felt good. Pounding on it let her work off a little aggression too. But what was really nice was the opportunity to focus and think.
As wonderful as finally being with Samson was, this wasn't how Cassidy imagined her life turning out—baking off her frustrations in a small cabin in the middle of the Boundarylands.
Still, she couldn't say she was surprised.
At first, Cassidy had thought all she felt for Samson was simple attraction. As the months went on, it became harder to deny that there was more to it.
With each passing visit, she found it harder and harder to leave the Boundarylands.
Cassidy shook her head as she punched down the dough again. It wasn't the Boundarylands that was hard to leave. It was Samson.
She cared about him. Deeply. Sometimes painfully.
Maybe more than she should.
But Samson wasn't the only thing she cared about. She also loved her studies. Alpha research was her calling. It was a part of who she was. A major part.
Just like hunting and working the land wasn't what an alpha did. It was who he was. There wasn't a force on earth that could pry an alpha off his land. There wasn't a soul alive who could keep him from living his life.
So, why wasn't it that way for her?
Cassidy's hands stilled, her fingers covered in sticky dough.
The question stuck in her head.
Why couldn't she keep doing her research? Who was stopping her?
She might not be a graduate student at the university anymore, sure, but that didn't mean that she had to stop doing what she loved.
Hell, she was in the middle of an alpha researcher's wet dream—an unprecedented relationship with an alpha.
At least she assumed it was unprecedented.
Cassidy had never read a thing about long term alpha/beta couplings, and, God knew, she'd read everything available.
The analytical part of her brain bubbled with excitement. How often did a researcher get to experience such a groundbreaking development firsthand?
She already had so many notes. Once she added to them and managed to turn them into a paper—keeping the subjects anonymous, of course—she'd have her pick of academic journals. Hell, it would be reprinted all over the world.
And once that happened, the university would come crawling, begging her to return.
Cassidy felt lighter as she molded the dough into a round loaf, slapped it on a sheet, and slid it into the oven. Now she had a plan. A good one. One that didn't relegate her to playing pretend or hiding in the shadows.
She even managed a genuine smile when Samson came through the door a few minutes later. Whatever he'd been doing out there that morning, it'd been hard work. Beads of sweat dotted his temples and forehead.
He sniffed the air before peeling off his damp shirt. Cassidy drew in a sharp breath as the sun streaming through the windows lit his broad, bare chest.
Damn, would she ever get used to seeing that beautiful sight? She certainly hoped not.
"You're making bread?" he asked, his brows pulling together, almost as if the idea confused him.
"Yeah.” She leaned against the counter, openly staring at his half-naked body. "I wanted to feel useful."
"You know how to bake?"
"I own a toothbrush too," she shot back with a laugh.
A smile teased his lips. He stepped toward her.
"You owned one," he reminded her. "We'll have to order you a new one from Evander's."
She stuck her tongue out at him, but his smile only grew. He wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her close.
Pressed against his massive body, Cassidy felt small. Protected. Safe. She leaned her head against his chest and drew in a deep breath.
"What were you doing out there all morning?" she asked.
"The usual morning routine," he said, offering no more explanation.
Cassidy could guess. She'd interviewed a lot of alphas a
nd learned a surprising amount about how they spent their days and survived in a non-beta economy.
They timbered and milled their own wood. They also kept game, distilled spirits, tapped the springs for water. Some created their own leather and wood goods. There was plenty of trading between alpha brothers and a few trusted beta merchants.
"I'd love to follow along with you some morning," she said.
"For research?" he asked, his tone teasing.
"Well, actually…" Cassidy pulled back from his embrace just far enough to look up into his eyes. "While you were out working, I had some time to think. I've decided to keep going with my research."
Samson nodded. "Good."
Cassidy let out a sigh of relief. For some reason, she'd feared that he wouldn't be supportive. That he'd want her to throw all the pieces of her old life away.
"Wonderful," she said with a smile. "Because if you don't mind, I want to publish a paper about our relationship, and really dive into the possible reasons for our nature-based anomalies."
With every word, Cassidy felt Samson's body stiffen under her touch. By the end, he was standing as straight and rigid as a steel beam. And the look in his eye was just as unforgiving.
"I mind," he said through gritted teeth.
"What?" She blinked, confused. "I thought you just said you wanted me to continue my research."
"Your research, yes," he said. "But I won't allow you to share the details of our private life."
"Why not?"
"Because it's our life," he said, breaking away from her. "Yours and mine. It's no one's business."
He stormed over to the sink, drew water into the basin, and started scrubbing the dirt from his hands. Even from across the room, Cassidy could feel the tension crackling in the air around him.
"I won't use our real names," she tried to reassure him. "It would be totally anonymous."
Samson went still, the muscles of his shoulders rigid. "We are not your newest research project. This isn't some game, Cassidy."
"No, shit," she said. As if she didn't know that. A hell of a lot more than he did.
He spun around, piercing her with a glower that would have withered her yesterday…but not this morning.
Something had shifted inside her. Something that made her truly believe that she had every right, not just to meet Samson's gaze, but to tell him exactly how she felt.
Samson (The Boundarylands Omegaverse Book 3) Page 7
