Chapter 5

5

C av lowered his newspaper the moment Wynter was gone, finally able to breathe again—though even then, all he could scent was the omega as he dragged air into his lungs. He leaned back into the seat, finally free to inhale Wynter's sweet scent. His cock thickened more, already semi-erect from the start.

What the hell has gotten into me?

Cav never considered himself a rude man, nor an aggressive one. Was the simple fact an omega sat across from him enough to trigger some primal alpha bullshit from somewhere deep down? It's not as if that was the first time he'd ever been near an omega, though. He'd never reacted like that. Cav prided himself in his affability. It's what had allowed him to ingratiate himself with complete strangers all over the world as he'd traveled and learned their stories. Never had he offended one—at least not purposefully. He'd made a couple of errors during his travels, not understanding certain local customs, but he'd quickly apologized and made things right whenever possible.

But then, he wasn't accustomed to being completely alone with omegas, particularly ones as like Wynter Jaymes.

His own papa had passed long ago, leaving him with his father and four unmated, older alpha brothers. He'd been the surprise, late baby of the family yet even at his brothers' advanced ages, none of them had had mates until he'd been long gone, traveling the globe. After the primary grades, school had been segregated for obvious reasons—to avoid an accidental mating.

Cav had gone to a few of the omega balls—enough to keep his father and eldest brothers quiet—but he hadn't really gotten to know many omegas during that time, nor had he wanted to. Mating, raising a family… it would take away from his plan to travel and his time writing. Being bound and tied to one place could come much, much later, if at all.

He didn't buy into the whole class system nor the alpha-omega dominant-submissive bullshit, either, yet a few minutes alone with an omega and he'd been strained unlike ever before. His thoughts drifted to his cabin mate. Wynter. He hated to admit it—but the man was utterly beautiful. Hateful, but beautiful. That long, silver-blond hair flowing down his back—except for the few narrow braids along the crown—had called to him. All he could imagine was it cascading over him as he pounded up into the omega's body from below.

He groaned, adjusting the crotch of his jeans, demanding he stop torturing himself. The omega was mated. The omega had been sure he'd seen it, twisting the ring like some ancient rite of protection. Cav was stuck in a spiral, unable to force the image of Wynter's steel-blue eyes from his mind. They'd almost seemed to glow as they argued. His hands fisted with the need to drag Wynter's slim body against his. It called out his name, begging to be touched.

He's mated. Hands off.

Cav gnashed his teeth. A voice from down deep whispered something he didn't want to think about. Mated, but obviously not happy.

It doesn't matter if he's happy or not. Someone else made that claim.

He's unavailable.

And just what would I do if he was available?

He chuckled to himself. Nothing. I would do nothing. The omega is a jerk. A pompous jerk.

A pompous jerk who's got my blood firing and my cock hard.

Cav lowered the newspaper and reached for Wynter's copy of his book. As he brought it over, he could scent the omega even stronger on it. Lifting the book to his nose, he drew in the aroma. Vanilla and musk… he closed his eyes and growled, his cock twitching.

Yet there was another scent.

An alpha scent.

Without another thought, he reached for the pen in his satchel and opened the cover before scribbling a message inside. When he was done, he smiled to himself and closed the book before tossing it back on the opposite seat.

Rising, he stretched his arms and legs, demanding his body quiet down. There was no way he was getting twisted into knots by a mated omega, especially one that was going to be a huge thorn in his side for the rest of the night. He'd traveled the globe, seen things most men dreamed of. It's why they bought his books. Bound alphas lived vicariously through him.

Cav was unattached. An explorer. He'd just finished his newest manuscript and was in need of his next adventure, that was all. He sat back down and opened the newspaper again, searching for inspiration among the stories there. After re-reading the same paragraph five times, he growled and folded it briskly enough to rip some of the pages. He flung it toward his satchel and stared out at the passing countryside.

A countryside that he'd explored on one of his first treks outside Blacksburg. It had been the focus of his first book, detailing one of the most powerful No Man's Land warlords on the East Coast. The alpha had had a harem of fifteen omegas, all of them soft and demure.

Accommodating.

The warlord had even offered one to him for a time, but Cav had respectfully declined, unsure if it had been a test of loyalty or not. It had been an easy choice. Cav typically sated his lust with betas. They seemed easier. Less complicated.

Nothing like the omega who was sharing his cabin.

Although, none of the omegas he'd ever met were as infuriating as Wynter Jaymes.

None had been as captivating either.

Fuck.

Cav rose and attempted to pace the length of the cabin car, but it was much too small and his legs too fucking long. He stepped out into the hallway to give them more room. Once up the hall and back down it, but that wasn't enough, so he did another round.

And another.

Until his feet took him where he had no business going.

To find Wynter Jaymes.

Wynter sat alone at one of the club car tables, drinking a glass of wine as No Man's Land rapidly whizzed past. It was beautiful land, pristine and untouched for the most part—what was outside the large, razor wire topped fences protecting the train, of course. Every ten miles or so, they passed a small security shelter. The whole distance between one walled province to the next was highly secured to keep the Wildlings out.

The Wildlings —the nickname for all those who lived outside the walls, either by birth, choice, or exile—lived under a different set of rules than they did behind them in the provinces. Some said there were no rules at all. He'd heard the horror stories of omegas being abducted once they crossed into No Man's Land. They'd be claimed by an untamed alpha, no better than an animal himself, or bought and sold on the auction block to be bred by another.

Somehow, that didn't sound all that terrible given his situation.

Of course, it was. Wasn't it?

With every mile put between him and his responsibilities to Warden, Wynter felt lighter. He could breathe easier. He hadn't wanted to go to the spa—as it all seemed rather tacky. Allowing strange betas to assist him through a heat? Wasn't it bad enough that the household betas and those at the facility had to witness him in his lowest, most beastly moments? Being vulnerable like that wasn't stress-free, especially when they were strangers.

At least the staff was trained for that very thing. Perhaps that would make it easier.

As he watched the untamed wilderness pass, his mind drifted to another wild thing— Wilder Cavanaugh.

Wynter's blood began to boil the minute the man's smiling face came to mind. The man's handsome smiling face. All Wynter could think about was sinking both hands into the man's thick hair and dragging him closer for a kiss.

On that vile mouth that had spat so many vile things.

How dare the alpha be so bold?

He doesn't know me! Doesn't know what I've lived through.

Yet, there had been a little truth that had come from the man's lips. Wynter was loath to admit it, but the things that had hurt the worst had been because they'd nearly been on target. He drained the rest of his glass of wine before lifting his hand to request another. Just as the waiter nodded, the outer door opened, and Cavanaugh stepped into the car.

Great. Wynter lowered his glass and turned his stare back to the wilds rushing outside the train—though that didn't last long. His gaze was pulled back again by what had to be the most handsome man he'd ever laid eyes on.

A slow smile spread on the alpha's face as he neared, pissing Wynter off all the more.

Forcing his focus outside one last time, he refused to entertain that heathen another second. He sensed Cavanaugh pass his table and walk up to the bar. Straining to hear, he could only pick up the low rumble of the man's voice. Just the barest sound of it rippled through him in a way he despised.

Because it felt too good.

I'm mated. I cannot have him, nor he me.

His body wasn't interested in his mind's plan. A bit of slick eased from between his cheeks and his face turned blood red. Realizing his need to escape, he moved to rise from the seat… just as the waiter placed his fresh glass of wine before him.

Wilder Cavanaugh sat down across from him a second later, that cocky grin still firmly in place. He spun the amber liquid inside his tumbler held between two thick fingers. Fingers Wynter already imagined sliding through the slick building between his cheeks and slipping inside him. A flush washed over his face as he suddenly envisioned Cavanaugh learning every inch of his body.

"Hi there."

Wynter rolled his eyes. "I left the cabin to get away from you."

"Oh, I'm well aware," Cavanaugh murmured before taking a drink. When he was done, he let out a pleased sigh that did things to Wynter it shouldn't have. "But I missed you."

Wynter felt another droplet of slick ease from him… and he clearly noticed Cavanaugh's nostrils flaring.

Did he just scent me? Oh gods…

From the sudden change in Cavanaugh's demeanor, he was almost positive the alpha could smell his need. Wynter's shaft thickened, and he knew then that he needed to get as far away as he could from the alpha. He was two days away from a heat, so the reaction was unsettling. Maybe he shouldn't have waited so long to leave for the spa. It was clearly too close for comfort.

I'm a mated omega. He wouldn't…

Would he?

Excitement filled Wynter at the prospect of having the brute fuck him. There was a wild, feral side to the man that his mate didn't have. Wild… his first name is rather fitting, isn't it? I wonder if it's a nickname. Maybe he could slide onto the man's lap and ask him nicely. Fuck me and show me how it should feel to be loved.

Wynter gazed at the ring on his finger caressing the side of his wine glass. Lifting it, he drained half.

I need to go.

"Thirsty?"

"As soon as I finish this, I can return to the cabin in peace… since you're here."

Cavanaugh trailed a finger over the rim of his tumbler and all Wynter could see was that finger trailing over his naked body—leaving a heated path in its wake. "Do you really want to leave?"

No. "Yes."

Cavanaugh's lids drooped. Longing filled his stare. Wynter wasn't immune to that look, and it fed the same longing growing within. "Then go. No one's stopping you."

Wynter willed himself to get up… yet he couldn't move. He met Cavanaugh's languid stare and shouldn't have. The desire he saw there was too much to suffer. "I'm mated."

"I'm aware."

Wynter frowned. Was he reading more into the situation than was there? Misreading the cues? It's not as if he had any experience flirting with an alpha. He'd never had the chance to learn.

"Tell me about him," Cavanaugh murmured. "Your alpha."

Wynter let out a strangled breath. "Not much to tell."

Cavanaugh grinned. "Oh, I think there's a story there, and I live to hear interesting stories. They're my bread and butter."

"This isn't one that would interest anyone."

"Let me be the judge of that," the alpha said.

"It's a story told and retold by too many over the decades." Wynter sat back, thankful the conversation had taken a turn there. It was hard to lust after the alpha when discussing Warden. "He and I were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Things happened. I got pregnant. We were forced to mate by our families. The end."

Cavanaugh stared blankly. "How old were you?"

Wynter cringed, his stomach twisting at the question. The truth was on his lips, but he couldn't speak it, no matter how much he wanted to in that moment. "Nineteen."

Cavanaugh flinched before whispering. "Not much farther from being a child yourself. Was he young, too?"

Wynter cast a look around to see if anyone had been listening. Fortunately, no one was near enough. "He was in his mid-twenties at the time."

"Do you love him?"

I barely know him. "No."

"And what about him? Does he have feelings for you?"

Wynter shook his head. "He begged me to leave and give him a break this heat, so what do you think?" Why did I say it like that? As if I cared what Warden wanted or didn't want?

Cavanaugh held his gaze, silent. Wynter struggled under the scrutiny, sensing the alpha's pity. He didn't want to be pitied.

"Our natures can be a terrible thing," Cavanaugh murmured. "You're right. Yours isn't the first horror story I've heard like this. Too bad you didn't grow up in another province."

Wynter frowned. "Another province?"

"Omegas don't live under the same rules in all provinces. Some have more rights elsewhere. Omegawood and Fenix freed their omegas a decade ago. They've been using this new drug on the market that supposedly masks heats to protect omegas—which allows them freedom to go and live wherever they choose. Omegas are getting educations. Working outside the home. Now there are rumblings starting in Fort Seattle with omegas demanding they have access to it as well. I bet more provinces move in that direction, too. I smell which way the wind is blowing. In ten years from now, I'd bet omegas are free across the whole of the Palatinate."

"An idealist and a writer? You really do live outside the box."

"That doesn't excite you? That omegas could be freed from their shackles?"

"I'm bound to a man who will never love me. I'll never love him. We can barely be in the same room together, two strangers living in a big, fancy house, devoid of any real emotion. It's too late to make what happened right, so you'll excuse me if I don't get overly excited about other omegas getting a chance at a freedom I'll never, ever experience."

Cavanaugh winced again. "You're right. I shouldn't've brought it up. It was thoughtless of me."

"Yes, it was, and no, you shouldn't have," Wynter spat. "My life is what it is. I'm bound to him forever because of a fuck-up in nature." Tears burned the backs of his eyes. " And now I get to live the rest of my days with the knowledge that there was medicine available somewhere in the world that might've prevented it. Thank you for that."

"I'm sorry. I sometimes think out loud and it gets me in trouble," Cavanaugh replied. "I'm simply excited that times are changing. Societal expectations are shifting. I meant no offense. I hate knowing you're trapped, Wynter. Honestly."

Wynter drained the rest of his glass before rising, knowing there was no point in continuing the conversation. It would only hurt more.

Cavanaugh reached out and gripped his wrist. "Don't go. I honestly didn't mean to cross the line there. Forgive me."

"But you did mean to cross it earlier?"

"Earlier?"

"The things you said to me back in the cabin?"

Cavanaugh fought a smile.

Anger roiled in Wynter's gut. "Oh, now you laugh at me?"

Cavanaugh forced the smile from his lips. "No. I'm not laughing at you."

Wynter sat back down and glared at Cavanaugh. "I don't like being made the butt of a joke."

"I shouldn't have pushed you and been so rude. Again, I apologize. I couldn't stop myself for some reason."

"You couldn't stop yourself? Sure." Had he felt almost the same though?

Cavanaugh met his stare, heat firing there, but he remained silent.

"Why couldn't you stop yourself?" Why did he care what the answer was? Just go… walk away before you get burned.

"You just look so damned cute when you're angry."

"Cretin," Wynter muttered and tried to yank his hand away, failing.

"Wynter…"

Wynter hated the way Cavanaugh said his name—or rather the way it made him feel. He looked down where Cavanaugh gripped his wrist, his long fingers easily engulfing the narrow span, and shivered at the sensation of it. Slick dribbled from his puckered hole, his body priming itself to be claimed.

Cavanaugh met his gaze, fire there.

The alpha's thumb traced over his wrist and one brow rose. He turned over Wynter's wrist and spied the scar there, concern on his face.

"Let go of me," Wynter demanded quietly. He pulled his arm back and tugged the edges of his long-sleeve top down over to cover them.

Silence, barring the clicking of the train's wheels over the rails, fell between them.

"He makes you that unhappy?"

Wynter met Cavanaugh's gaze. "Things got dark and… this seemed the only way out."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't want your pity."

"It's not pity," Cavanaugh murmured. "It's sympathy. No one should be forced to live a life they don't want. Not even bossy, little omegas who carry around too much luggage."

Wynter lifted his gaze to argue but saw the soft little smile on Cavanaugh's face—and for some reason, he erupted into laughter. "I'm not bossy."

"But you do pack too much."

"I do," Wynter agreed.

Cavanaugh sat back. "Are you running away from home?"

"No!" Wynter howled, but then considered how much he'd packed. He'd spend much of his time at the spa naked, in bed. All he needed were a few outfits until his scheduled train home. "No. That wasn't the plan."

"Look, from the sounds of things, you'd have every right to run away."

"And just where would I go?"

"There are provinces where omegas are free, as I mentioned."

Wynter considered that a moment. "They'd come looking for me." If it wasn't Warden, it would be his parents. They wouldn't allow him any freedom, not when it could cause a scandal. "Think I could fake my death? You're a writer… how would you do it? How would you escape and never be found?"

Cavanaugh chuckled. "I haven't put much thought into it—those aren't the kinds of books I write—but then I also have the freedom to go where I want." His smile faded. "Maybe there's a way. I'll have to think about it and find you an escape plan."

"I appreciate the offer, but I wouldn't even know what to do once I made it to another province, if I could make it there. I have no skills other than being taught to sew and embroider. I'd never survive on my own."

"Omegawood always needs costumers and tailors for the movie industry."

"Perhaps, but I was never much good at it," Wynter murmured. His gaze moved outside again. "But I have a child to think about." He eyed Cavanaugh. "You know, that poor kid who got a papa like me?"

"I apologize. I had no idea what was going on in your life when I said that."

"You were right, though. I've been a shit papa."

"Don't do that to yourself. You've been put in a terrible situation."

"I was… and I shut down. I hid from my alpha throughout most of my pregnancy, unwilling to acknowledge we were truly mated. Fortunately for me, he kept his distance. Then the baby came, and I drifted into this… fog. I couldn't get out of bed. When I did, I roamed in the middle of the night, when the house was quiet. I cried for days on end. I couldn't even look at the baby."

"Post-partum."

Wynter lifted his gaze. "You've heard of that?" He'd only learned of it at the facility six months before.

"From what I've read, a lot of omegas experience it, even ones who'd longed for the child they'd given birth to. Brain chemistry is an amazing field of research. If that chemistry's not balanced… it can send everything into a tailspin." Cavanaugh reached across the table and took one of Wynter's hands. He traced one of the scars. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. You weren't yourself. You were ill." He smiled softly. "And I'm glad you survived that dark night. I'd never have gotten a chance to meet you."

Wynter fought tears.

"I hope you've sought help?"

Wynter nodded. "Six months in a mental health facility. I'm still working on things, but…" He paused, unsure why he was sharing so much with the stranger… other than the simple compassion he was being shown. If Warden heard what he'd shared? A shiver raced down his spine.

"But…?"

Wynter shook his head, again taking his hand away. "I've said too much."

"Is your mate not helping you through your recovery?"

Wynter chuckled mirthlessly. "I shouldn't discuss this."

"Let me be your sounding board," Cavanaugh murmured. "Talking is good for the soul."

Wynter held the man's gaze, something unlocking within. For some reason, he wanted to tell Cavanaugh all his secrets and innermost thoughts. "No, he's not helping. He's actively trying to make things worse, I think."

Cavanaugh muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

Cavanaugh pegged him with a stare. "You deserve better."

Wynter was sure the alpha had said something different, but he'd take the words and the feeling behind them anyway. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Not that I've done anything."

"Listening— without judgment —helps. More than you know." Wynter smiled. He'd not felt so supported since the facility. Why couldn't he have been bound to an alpha more like Cavanaugh? He searched the man's face, seeing nothing but sincerity. "A lot of omegas, you say? They never said that in treatment. I mean, they told me that was likely to blame, and it wasn't my fault, but nothing about it being widespread."

"I don't know the exact percentages, but I know other provinces where omegas have gotten more freedoms, natal and mental health have become a priority. They've started coming out of the shadows and talking about issues long kept hidden. Things like post-partum are no longer a dirty little secret anymore. Omegas have found solace in sharing their stories with one another. There's strength in that, I think. Knowing they're not alone."

"Yeah," Wynter murmured. "I wish I'd met others during my treatment."

"It's not too late," Cavanaugh said. "Perhaps you'll have a chance someday."

"Maybe," Wynter murmured, knowing it was highly unlikely. He rarely left the house. He had no friends in Alexandria—though that might soon change if Warden had his way. Maybe getting out in society wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Maybe he'd find omegas suffering some of the same issues he was, like those in the other provinces had and find strength there.

Silence hung between them. Wynter held Cavanaugh's gaze, unable to look away. They stared at one another, the entire world melting away. When his hand touched Cavanaugh's, he jumped, gazing down. He'd assumed the alpha had reached for him, but it was the opposite.

His hand had made it across the table without his realization.

Cavanaugh slipped his fingers through Wynter's, the feel of that hand in his taking his breath away. The alpha was a man of extremes. In one minute, he'd inspired chaos and in the next, he'd offered benevolence. He made Wynter feel both—completely out of control yet safe and protected, all at the same time.

The lack of control—of laws and rules—called out to him. It allowed him to see another path, one where he could be whoever he wanted to be. Looking into the alpha's eyes, he comprehended a fundamental truth. He wanted to be claimed by Cavanaugh, an alpha full of chaos and compassion. One who might breathe new life into him.

His breath caught, his lungs too tight to hold much air in them.

It was clear from the look in Cavanaugh's eyes that the man wanted, too.

Fiercely.

The vision of Cavanaugh tossing him over one shoulder and carrying him back to their cabin nearly had him moaning on the spot. More of his slick coated his hole, leaking onto his cheeks. He bit the inside of his lip, begging his body to calm. Pulling his hand away, he gasped. Cavanaugh wouldn't let go.

"Please," Wynter whispered, pleading for the alpha to free him before they both made a terrible mistake. "I can't."

Cavanaugh's nostrils flared, and it was clear he was fighting the rising need to rut. "Can't what?"

"Do what we both want to do."

Cavanaugh's jaw tensed. He caressed Wynter's hand, swallowing thickly. Yet he released his hold, lifting his hands in surrender instead of forcing the situation further. "I'm sorry."

Wynter rose on shaky legs. He stared at the alpha, only a couple of inches taller standing next to the seated man. He glanced down and noticed Cavanaugh's pants were tented, the bulge massive. Wynter gripped the edge of the table to keep himself upright. Copious amounts of slick slid from him, rivulets rolling down his thighs.

"Go," Cavanaugh growled, not looking at Wynter. "Get in that cabin as fast as you can—and lock the door behind you."

The rough grate to Cavanaugh's voice sent another shiver up his spine. A mewl escaped his lips, the sound shocking to his own ears.

"If you don't go right now, I can't be held accountable for the things I do to you."

Wynter shuddered, wanting to know what things Cavanaugh would do to him. Instead, he forced one foot in front of the other and marched back to their cabin, each difficult step away making it a little easier to breathe. Fortunately, he saw no other alphas on his trip there. When he arrived inside, he closed and locked the door. Drawing in a deep, relieved breath, all he could smell was Cavanaugh.

More of his slick spread between his ass cheeks. A low moan bubbled up his throat. His body grew more languid by the second, his puckered hole tensing and relaxing. He was going into heat, days early. He checked his watch, realizing there was still six more hours before they arrived and he was swept off to the spa, safe behind their walls.

I'll never survive it.