by Willa Okati
Zachariah nuzzled at the soft skin of Ivoire’s thighs, found a secure hold on his hips, and bent to take the Omega’s cock into his mouth.
Ivoire moaned, startled and eager. He tugged at Zachariah’s hair harder than he meant to, but Zachariah didn’t protest. The Alpha cradled Ivoire on his tongue and took him deeper, instead, not stopping until there was no farther he could go. Zachariah’s breath warmed Ivoire’s groin, humid and heavy, and his hands kneaded at Ivoire’s legs.
A sharp tug arrowed through Ivoire, seeming to come from breast through belly and to groin, making him cry out in ecstasy. Zachariah -- an Alpha -- was good at this -- at nursing Ivoire’s cock as if he loved it, as if he would have done it for hours.
Ivoire’s knees wouldn’t hold him up for that long, but he wished they could. He tugged Zachariah’s hair again, reckless now, as pulses of heat and electricity rolled through him. Building higher, hotter, they peaked and plateaued as Ivoire widened his stance.
Zachariah drew off, briefly, to lift Ivoire’s leg and brace it over his shoulder. Ivoire had no choice then but to reach up and steady himself by taking hold of a tree branch -- and once he’d done that, Zachariah took Ivoire’s other leg over his back. He was strong enough to brace Ivoire’s hips, and his shoulders wide enough to bear the weight without a tremor.
“Zachariah,” Ivoire gasped, rocking his hips. The wet, tight heat of Zachariah’s mouth filled his entire world. He could feel himself coming, almost there, almost --
Zachariah let go. When Ivoire cried out in disappointment, he gave a low, rumbling laugh. “Still got you.”
As carefully as if Ivoire were made of glass, Zachariah lowered Ivoire to his feet. He undid the waist and twisted his hips, sending his jeans down, then reached between them with one big hand to catch both of their cocks in his grasp. The shock of sensation made Ivoire gasp, but Zachariah caught the noise with his mouth and kissed the words out of him.
Ivoire threw both arms around Zachariah’s neck and hung on for dear life. He drank in the scent and musk the Alpha gave off, and offered back what he could. His orgasm built again, quick-pulse-fast as the pounding of his heart, in time with the rhythm he could feel in Zachariah’s shaft.
“Zachariah,” Ivoire panted into the Alpha’s mouth. “Zachariah, Zachariah…” He dug his nails in and raked Zachariah’s back, which made him groan and thrust forward harder, sending shudders of sensation through them both.
“Again,” he ordered, tightening his grip. “Ivoire, more, harder.”
Ivoire sank his teeth into Zachariah’s lip. Excitement sparked through him. He hadn’t played rough in too long, and it felt so good, so good --
His back arched when he let go, his shout tumbling over Zachariah’s lips, broken between Zachariah’s panting for breath, and catching in turn Zachariah’s strangled groan. Wetness burst between them, thick and creamy, and Ivoire couldn’t tell which belonged to who -- but it didn’t matter.
Ivoire knew it now. He could love Zachariah.
And if Zachariah could love him, too…
That would be happiness.
Zachariah’s limbs shook, fine tremors running through his muscles, and his breathing still came in quick puffs, when he eased his arms away from Ivoire. He gulped on a dry throat and pressed his forehead to Ivoire’s.
Do you love me? Ivoire carded his fingertips through the shorter hairs on Zachariah’s nape. Do you? Could you? Will you?
As much as Ivoire had liked that, his pup hadn’t. Indignant, it delivered a solid kick that made Zachariah startle back -- but with a laugh, and he returned right away to stroke Ivoire’s belly in that endearingly shy way he had sometimes. “Strong,” he said, drawing thoughtful lines with the pad of his thumb. “Real strong. Ivoire…”
He stopped there, shaking his head.
Moved, Ivoire cupped his cheek until Zachariah looked up and met his gaze. “It’s all right.”
Zachariah’s grimace said otherwise, the stubborn Alpha. He sighed, then set his shoulders -- but laughed when the pup told him again, in no uncertain terms, to back off or put his dukes up. “All right, all right,” he said in that low baritone burr. “Only because you asked nicely.”
He took a step back, and that might have been all right, but Zachariah had long legs, and his stride was long.
And the cliff’s edge was there, just there.
Panic bolted through Ivoire, a slap of pure terror. He flung his arms out and caught hold of Zachariah’s shirt, yanking him forward. Zachariah roared in surprise, and then in equal horror when his foot encountered nothing. For a terrible moment, Ivoire thought he wouldn’t make it, that he couldn’t be strong enough --
Zachariah fell forward, rolling away from Ivoire as he did, but they were too tangled. They went down together, safely away from the cliff’s edge, but so hard that Ivoire yelped with the shock of impact. His head buzzed and his eyes wouldn’t focus when he opened them to see Zachariah scrambling over the top of him, face slack with fright.
For one second, two seconds, three, all they could do was breathe, short gasps of alarm.
The pup protested, beating at Ivoire’s liver, and he shut his eyes with a moan. “Zachariah.”
“Ivoire,” he said, ragged. “Oh, God. Ivoire.” He shook like an aspen, but despite that he was already standing, trying to help Ivoire up. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” Ivoire checked himself, but he didn’t think he’d damaged anything. Well. Not anything physical. Terror still made his blood run cold. “I’m all right.”
Zachariah didn’t look as if he believed Ivoire even a little. His jaw set in a grim line. “You almost weren’t.”
“Me?” Ivoire found the strength to stand. “Me? You were the one who almost fell off the side of the cliff, and you’re worried about me?”
He might as well have saved his breath; Zachariah wasn’t listening. Slowly, and so clearly Ivoire could track its progress, those stone walls of his ground mercilessly back into place.
“Zachariah,” Ivoire pleaded, reaching up to touch his face.
Zachariah stepped back before Ivoire could make contact. “You’re all right now,” he said as if to himself. “That’s all that matters. Come on. I’ll get you back to the homestead.”
Before Ivoire could protest, Zachariah started walking, leaving Ivoire no choice but to follow.
He almost didn’t, too indignant and still shaky with alarm, but -- no. He wouldn’t let Zachariah do this again, to himself or to -- to -- whatever they could be, or could have been.
Ivoire picked up his feet and followed.
They moved faster than Ivoire would have liked, too quick to stop and speak. It was all he could manage to keep going without running out of breath, though every time he thought Zachariah paused to look over his shoulder, he opened his mouth to try.
No luck. By the time they reached the cleared land below, near the half-uprooted patch of mint, Zachariah still hadn’t said a word, and Ivoire had had enough. He planted his feet in the mangled earth and swiped at Zachariah’s elbow.
Zachariah evaded him. “Not now.”
“Then when?” Ivoire pushed his way in front of the Alpha. “You’re shutting me out. Don’t. Please don’t.”
Impatience flashed across his face. “Even for your own good?”
“Don’t you think I know my own good?” Ivoire refused to budge. He thought he saw a crack in the wall and pressed his advantage. “I’m all right. I’m still strong. The pup is, too. And you’re safe.”
Zachariah didn’t answer him. His hands flexed, as if he recognized he couldn’t fight this but still wanted to. “Ivoire --”
“Well now,” an unfamiliar voice came, making both Zachariah and Ivoire jump.
Ivoire looked over his shoulder to see an Alpha propped against the edge of Zachariah’s porch. He didn’t recognize them at first. Not one of the deputies, but an older man with an athlete’s muscle layered over tough bones, a lean face with a Roman nose, and power written on every li
mb and feature. His mouth tilted crookedly up on the left.
“Good thing I came home early,” Packmaster said. He nodded to them. “Zachariah. Cousin Ivoire.”
Chapter Five
Zachariah
Zachariah bristled. The Master of the Wasp Lake pack had propped himself against the edge of Zachariah’s porch as if it belonged to him, and Zachariah’s first reaction was to throw himself at the man and knock him down.
He held himself in check -- just barely. His fists tightened as he nodded to the man. “Sir.”
Packmaster’s given name was Lewis, but no one ever used it, not even Ivoire. He inclined his head slightly to Zachariah in acknowledgment. That, and nothing more.
How long had he been there? Had he heard anything? No way to tell. There were cool customers, and then there was the packmaster of Wasp Lake. His eyes were pale as Arctic ice, chilly and opaque. He made an improvement over their old packmaster, who had been as irascible and temperamental as Lewis wasn’t, but sometimes Zachariah wished for a leader with blood in his veins instead of frost.
Looked like Ivoire did, too. He hesitated between them, looking first at Zachariah, then being drawn back to the packmaster. “Cousin,” he said at last, brushing strands of hair away from his face. “You’ve changed.”
Packmaster didn’t so much as shrug. “I have. Are you hurt?”
“I -- what? No,” Ivoire faltered. He laid a hand on his belly. “We’re fine.”
“Hmm,” Packmaster said, canting his head slightly to one side.
His way of speaking began to grate at Zachariah. Too precise. The packmaster said exactly what he meant, and nothing at all of what he felt, and they were two different things. “Ivoire’s unhurt,” he said shortly. “I’ll vouch for that.”
Unhurt for now, at least. Who knew what might have happened if they’d had even another hour together? Zachariah couldn’t risk it. He wouldn’t.
Packmaster didn’t acknowledge Zachariah’s statement but regarded Ivoire calmly as he said, “The deputies who gave chase will be punished. Was that conveyed to you?”
Ivoire gave up the attempt to keep his wind-tossed hair in order; the breeze seemed particularly determined to keep his curls dancing. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. So will the Alpha who defaulted on his intent and left you in this state.” Packmaster gestured simply at Ivoire’s midsection. “I’ve entered into an agreement with the Whittier pack. Your former paramour will be fined a quarter of his yearly income as child support.”
“But --” Ivoire lifted his chin. “I don’t need it. I can take care of myself.”
The corner of Packmaster’s mouth lifted, but no one could have called his expression a smile. “Are you questioning my decision?”
Ivoire went stiff. “Yes!”
“Hmm.” Packmaster remained unruffled. “Be that as it may, the decision has been made, and the word become law. He won’t be allowed to mate with any other Omegas for five years, to make sure he’s learned his lesson.”
Secretly, Zachariah approved. The Alpha who’d betrayed Ivoire deserved worse, but this wasn’t bad for a start.
Ivoire, on the other hand, had gone rosy red with fury. “I should have been allowed a say in this.”
“You weren’t there.” Packmaster turned his cool gaze on Ivoire. “I was, and I take care of my own. Whether they like it or not. Go and get your things. I’ll escort you to my cabin.”
“But I don’t --”
“Ivoire.” With that one word, Packmaster cut him off in mid-sentence. “Go and get your things. We’re leaving.”
“But…”
Ivoire looked at Zachariah in a way that would have melted the hardest of hearts, and oh, it nearly did Zachariah in. It took all the stubborn strength he could bring to bear to not let Ivoire see how he’d been moved.
Zachariah hardened his heart. Packmaster would keep Ivoire safe and sound. He wasn’t an affectionate sort of man, but neither was he reported to be cruel. Ivoire would be all right under his care. That was the only thing that mattered.
It’s for the best. Deliberately, Zachariah looked away from Ivoire’s pleading.
He’d said nothing, but Packmaster had taken all of that in. He transferred his focus to Ivoire and said, with an Alpha’s command, “Go.”
Ivoire didn’t have a choice. Alphas and Omegas alike obeyed their packmaster, unless they were willing to fight to the death. With a cry of dismay and anger, Ivoire ran up the cabin steps and slammed the door behind him.
Packmaster didn’t even blink. “He’ll get over it.”
Zachariah wasn’t so sure. He rubbed at his chest, amazed at how Ivoire’s upset hurt his heart. He didn’t mean to speak, but words came out nonetheless, a gruff bark of demand. “What will happen to him?”
“To Ivoire?” Packmaster’s mouth twitched again. Casual, he tucked his hands in his pockets. “He’s an unclaimed, unmated, fertile Omega. He’ll stay at my cabin until he’s delivered, and then I’ll find a mate for him.”
Zachariah’s hackles rose. “Does he get any say in who?”
Packmaster gave him a cool, remote glance. “He didn’t choose wisely the first time.”
No, but he doesn’t deserve to be punished for that. Zachariah couldn’t help grinding his teeth. “And you think you can do better?”
“I am Master of this Pack.” He looked away. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Ivoire deserves someone who’ll love him, and be a father to that pup.”
Packmaster shrugged unconcernedly.
If Zachariah stayed put another second longer, steam would start pouring from his ears. Lewis might be packmaster, but by God the man had icicles in his heart. “I don’t --”
“Do you have any better suggestions?” Packmaster asked without looking back.
“Me,” Zachariah said.
The single word rang out as loud as a gunshot. Blood roared in Zachariah’s ears. Had he really said that out loud?
Yes. He had. And by God, he didn’t regret it.
“Me,” he said again, facing Packmaster directly. “I’ll take care of him.”
“You?” Packmaster gave him an unimpressed once-over. “Tell me. Why should I trust my cousin to you?”
His resistance made Zachariah feel mulish and all the more determined. “It’s worked out well enough so far. There’s room for him and his pup.”
“You would willingly shelter, feed, and care for the both of them?” Packmaster cocked an eyebrow. “Why?”
Zachariah struggled with himself, but he needed to say this out loud. “Because I care for him. And he cares for me. That’s more than most ever get, and it’s a good start. I’ll give you my word, Packmaster. If he’ll have me, I’ll have him.”
Packmaster chuckled, nearly inaudibly, and shook his head. “About damn time.”
What?
“To be honest, I thought I’d have to sweet-talk you around some more. You’ve been a bachelor for so long,” Packmaster said. His gaze went from cool to frank. “I know my cousin, and I know my pack members. It isn’t always straightforward, taking care of my own, but by God that’s what I do best.”
Why, that sneaky… This was a setup? Zachariah’s mouth fell open, but after a moment he shut it. Given the givens, and what he’d gotten, well…
He couldn’t complain.
Looking pleased as punch with himself, Packmaster tilted his head toward the cabin. “How much did Ivoire bring with him?”
What? Zachariah frowned. “Not much. A few bits of ragged clothing.”
“Hmm. He’s taking a while to get that together, then,” Packmaster said. He gestured faintly toward Zachariah’s cabin. “Go see what’s keeping him. I want us home before sunset.”
Zachariah’s hackles rose. He wanted nothing more than to tell Packmaster exactly where he could shove his orders, but… He pricked his ears up and couldn’t hear a single sound from inside the cabin.
Hell. Did Ivoire make a run for it when we were both distracte
d? Zachariah wouldn’t put it past the Omega. He’d been lucky as hell to get there safely in the first place. There weren’t any more mint patches for him to hide in, and even with the threat of punishment there were always randy Alphas ready to try their luck.
Forgetting Packmaster entirely, Zachariah bolted up the steps and into his empty cluttered cabin. His heart pounded a frantic tattoo against his ribs. If he’d lost the Omega…
If I’ve lost the Omega… If I’ve lost Ivoire’s love…
It’d been too late from the beginning, hadn’t it? And he’d been too blind to see -- when he wasn’t willfully blinding himself.
Lord in Heaven, what a fool he’d been.
* * *
Ivoire
Ivoire pressed both hands over his ears to block out his cousin’s cool voice and kept his head bowed. He’d gotten as far as the sheepskins he and Zachariah had slept on, but his legs wouldn’t carry him any farther. Not when he could hear every word of Lewis’s plans for his life.
What had happened to Lewis? The Alpha cousin that Ivoire remembered had never been effusive, but he wasn’t frozen through and through. He’d come hoping for sanctuary, not judgment and management.
Well, he’d found sanctuary. Just not where he’d expected it.
Ivoire knuckled his ears when new shouting made him flinch. Had he been so wrong about Zachariah?
He didn’t think so. He would have sworn otherwise.
Maybe he’d been a fool. Lewis wasn’t wrong. He’d been a fool before, and he’d given his body if not his heart unwisely.
But with Zachariah…
A solid hand on his shoulder made Ivoire startle upright. When he raised his head, he saw Zachariah drawing back. Relief mixed with helplessness, both written clearly on his face and at war with his stoic mask. “Ivoire. You’re here.”
“For now,” Ivoire said with a snap of his teeth. “Did you think I was already gone?”
“I…” Zachariah swallowed hard and shook his head. “You’re here.”
