The Mating Game

by Lana Ferguson

There’s a scent tickling my nose—one that reminds me of rain and sunshine—and I think to myself that it seems terribly out of place here in the snow. Maybe it’s his cologne? It’s really…nice, actually.

This close to her, I smell a blast of something heavy and sweet, and my nostrils flare of their own accord as I try to breathe in more of it, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. The fuck was that?

Because she smells fucking mouthwatering. There’s something in an omega’s scent that calls to someone like me; it’s a tiny zing of unbridled want that creeps up my spine with even the smallest of inhales, one that I know all too well. It’s bone-deep in our DNA to feel these things in each other’s presence, and even if I’m currently the only one apparently feeling them, that doesn’t mean it’s not still a terrible idea to have her here.

Actually, I’d like to get far away from you, because you smell like something I want to take a bite out of.

He huffs out a breath, and before I even register what he’s doing, he’s shrugged off his brown Carhartt coat, leaving him in only his thick flannel as he thrusts it toward me. “Take this.”

Alpha, I recall. She called me alpha. Like I was hers. Like she was mine.

And when I finally turn…I find the most stunning creature on four legs I’ve ever seen.

“You caught me,” I rasp. I watch his throat bob with a swallow. “I didn’t mean to…pummel you like that. You just—you smell so—” And for reasons unknown to me, my very being seems to hinge on the end of that sentence. “I smell so…?” “You smell like you need me.”

“Fuck, look at you,” he grinds out. “You look so pretty riding me.” His hands curl around to grip my ass, pulling me down harder against his cock until I’m gasping for breath. “That’s it,” he croons. “That’s a good omega. Use me. Take what you need.”

Reginald’s massive form pushes past me when I open the door, jumping onto the foot of her bed and blinking at me with a bored expression. I watch as he curls up in a more comfortable lounging position near her feet, still watching me as if saying, Yeah, you should have kissed her. I snort to myself as I close the door behind me. Even the cat knows I fumbled this evening.

“Only a very, very stupid man wouldn’t want to kiss you, Tess.”

“Don’t—I don’t—Jesus, Tess. I want to come already. I could come all over you.” Wow, okay. I love that when he touches me, it’s bye-bye to the quiet, reserved Hunter. Hello, axe-wielding sex lumberjack.

“If I didn’t need to come inside you so badly,” he says against my core, lowering to give me one broad lick directly up the center with a rumbled sound that seems to come from deep in his chest and has my back arching and my breath catching, “I’d be down here all night.”

“No Taylor Swift, I imagine,” I say with a sigh. He sighs, feigning actual regret. “Unfortunately, no.” “Damn. You totally look like a Swiftie too.” “Right. I realize how misleading that must be.”

“I think everything about you is something I want to remember,” I answer quietly.

“That’s not very nice of you, Mr. Barrett.” He makes some sound in his chest, one that makes me press my legs together. “I really don’t think that should do what it does to me.”

I know after someone breaks your heart, it feels like those cracks will never heal, but the funny thing about heartbreak is…the cracks leave plenty of space to let someone else in, and if you can let yourself do that, if you can take that leap…that person might just be the one who can seal those cracks right up and make you whole again.”

“Love is rarely simple. It’s not always like the storybooks or the movies. Love is damn hard. We don’t always meet our person at the perfect moment, and we don’t always get the ending we thought we would.”