13. Aria

13

ARIA

This is not happening. This can't be happening.

I grab the heat suppressant, my hands shaking as I fumble with the packaging. Part of me screams to just toss it back, but I force myself to read the directions. "Take one tablespoon with food, may cause drowsiness…" I swallow hard. Desperation's a bitch, but I'm not stupid enough to ignore these warnings. Not when my life depends on it.

Except when another cramp ricochets through me and I take it anyway.

I feel a burning, aching sensation spread through my veins, making my skin hypersensitive to every touch. My core throbs with need, the insistent pulse demanding attention. The air feels too thick to breathe, and my mind is a whirl of conflicting desires and fears. Memories of previous heats flood my mind—the lack of control and desperation. I shudder, trying to focus on anything other than the growing heat inside me.

I will not beg for a knot. Nope, absolutely not. I will not take a knot, and I will not beg for a bite. Omegas are supposed to submit, to crave that connection, but I've always been different. I've built my life on independence, refusing to let biology dictate my choices. Each second feels like a battle, my willpower waning against the primal urge. I continue the mantra until all the sensations subside, clinging to the identity I've crafted for myself.

"In a quaint little town, not too far, not too near, lived an omega named Aria, full of good cheer, but one sunny day, much to her dismay, she felt quite peculiar in a most curious way," I sing as I grab the second thermometer from my pharmacy delivery bag and rip open the package. "Her pulse it did race, her cheeks they did flush, her heart started beating with a loud whoosh and rush. ‘Oh dear!' she exclaimed, ‘What could this all mean? I've never felt feelings so vibrant and keen!' Her friends?—"

One hundred and five point seven.

"No!" I wail and whine and toss that thermometer across the room of my dingy little apartment. I have one left, but a heat flash rides through my body, causing me to shake uncontrollably. My vision blurs for a moment, and I grip the edge of the counter to steady myself.

I stumble to the bathroom, my body trembling with the onset of my preheat. I clutch the edges of the sink, staring at my flushed face in the mirror, sweat pouring down my face.

"This can't be happening," I mutter through gritted teeth. As an unmated omega in my mid-twenties, I've prided myself on suppressing my heats through sheer willpower alone, but now my body is betraying me in the most primal way. It feels like a cruel joke, my own biology turning against me, mocking my attempts at independence. Memories of past struggles flood my mind, the times I barely made it through without succumbing.

So rude.

A fresh wave of heat rolls through me, and a needy whine escapes my throat. My skin is so sensitive that even the brush of my clothes against my body makes me shudder.

I know I won't make it through this heat alone. I need an alpha's help, but the thought of submitting to some random knot-head on the street makes my skin crawl.

They have vibrators for that. That's a great idea.

This is just the preheat. I can absolutely get through this. I just need supplies.

Twisting the faucet to cold, I splash water on my face. I should have known what was happening yesterday at the dojo when I fainted. Zane even said it. He told me I was hot to the touch.

Trembling, I grab my phone and flick through my apps to find one where I can get a certain kind of device delivered.

Yes, that will work for sure.

Breathing heavily, I stumble into the living room, and I'm just about to toss myself on the couch when there is a knock at the door.

I glare at it because how dare someone just show up? Don't they know that isn't acceptable etiquette?

Maybe if I stay quiet, they will go away. Nope, they knock again.

Tiptoeing to the door, I peer through the little hole.

Quinn fucking Clarke.

Bad timing, very bad timing. Panic surges through me, my body reacting to his presence in ways I can't control. My inner omega screams for release, and I bite down on my lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to keep the desperation at bay.

He knocks again, then starts whistling as I peer through the peephole.

Quinn Clarke, with his tousled brown hair and expressive eyes, stands on the other side of the door. He's tall and lean, with a boyish charm that hides a deeper, more complex persona. His sharp jawline and slightly crooked smile give him an endearing quality, while his warm brown eyes hold a depth of intelligence and mischief.

I hate how attractive he is.

My omega instincts flare up at the sight of him, urging me to open the door and submit. I grit my teeth, fighting against the urge, knowing that letting him in would mean losing control.

"Aria," he calls out, his voice carrying a teasing lilt tinged with concern. "I know you're in there. Thought you might need some TLC, so I brought a care package." He leans in close to peer back at me through the hole.

Gasping, I flatten myself against the door. This can't be happening right now. I smell like a melting orange Creamsicle on a hot summer day and… Wet slick gushes from me, and a shiver works through me.

The inner demoness inside me knows he is an alpha.

He has a knot, one that would fit perfectly inside my?—

I clench my fists, trying to steady my racing heart. Why did it have to be him? My inner omega purrs at the thought of his presence, but I shove that reaction down hard.

"Go away, Quinn," I croak out. I want to look through the peephole again, but I don't, just in case it has smell-o-vision.

"Not a chance, sweetheart," he replies, his voice a blend of concern and that ever present hint of mischief. "I come bearing gifts. Call me your knight in shining…denim."

Curiosity and frustration war within me as I stand there, debating my next move. The heat coursing through me makes every decision feel monumental. Finally, with a resigned sigh, I peer through the peephole. It's just enough to glare at him.

"What do you want?" I snap out, trying to keep my voice steady.

Quinn's eyes widen slightly, but he quickly masks his surprise with a grin. "Just thought I'd check on my favorite sparring partner. You seemed a bit off at our last session. No need for the evil eye, though. I come bearing gifts of sustenance."

I eye the bag suspiciously. "What's in it?"

He leans against the doorframe, his smile turning softer. "Just some deliciousness. Thought you may feel hungry."

He has no idea what this is doing to my clitty cat right now.

I suppress a groan and clench my thighs together.

"I really can't open the door." Fuck, I'm going to have to call out of work for the entire week.

He peers back at me through the peephole, a strange look on his face. "I can smell you."

Oh no.

Panic grips me in a chokehold.

I'm about to make a very, very bad decision.

I hesitate, my hand on the doorknob. My rational mind screams at me to send him away, but something – curiosity, desperation, or maybe just the heat – makes me unlock the door. I open it just enough to peek out, my body half-hidden behind it. "Quinn," I manage, trying to keep my voice steady. "This really isn't a good time."

Lavender and bergamot suffocate me, a heady mixture that makes my head spin. The scent seeps into my pores, igniting every nerve ending. A whine spills from my lips before I can stop it. He's mine. No, really, he is a perfect scent match. Our pheromones dance together, creating an intoxicating harmony that makes my omega instincts howl with recognition.

Quinn's eyes go wide, confusion flickering across his face before a mischievous glint takes over. "Well, well," he quips, his nose twitching slightly. "One second you smell like nothing, and the next..." He leans in, pupils dilating. "If I'd known this was the welcome I'd get, I'd have made a house call much sooner."

We just stare at each other. Horror runs through my veins at my actions. He knows.

Oh God, he knows I'm an omega.

A rush of heat courses through me, and in an instant, Quinn grabs me, lifts me up, and slams me against the door.

He's my match in every way. I'm so fucked, and I'm not even bouncing up and down on his knot yet .

"You're an omega," he accuses.

"You can't tell anyone," I whine as I grind on his erect cock pressing against my core. Yes, delicious friction.

"You're in heat," he says, somehow holding himself back. Later, I can dissect how much control he has, but right now, I need him to destroy my vagina.

"Preheat," I say. "Took a suppressant."

"Aria, you're burning up," he says, concern evident in his voice. "Let me help you."

I grip his wrist, conflicted. "Quinn, I... This isn't me. I don't do this."

His eyes soften, a mix of worry and something else I can't quite place. "I know. Just let me make sure you're okay. We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with."

This is a bad idea.

I stare into Quinn's eyes as conflicted emotions swirl within me. His scent envelops me, heady and intoxicating, igniting desires I've long suppressed. I know I should push him away and barricade myself in my room until this temporary madness passes, but the fever in my blood sings for his touch and my traitorous body molds itself against him.

His eyes blaze with that primal hunger unique to alphas, but beneath it, I sense his restraint. He waits for my permission, my acceptance. The thought of giving in terrifies me, but denying this feels impossible and need burns through me.

I relax my grip on his shirt and trail my fingers down his chest. His heart hammers against my palm, matching my own frantic rhythm.

"I…I can't," I whisper, torn between desire and fear. "This isn't me, Quinn. I don't do this."

He steps back, giving me space. "I understand," he says softly. "We don't have to do anything. Let me just stay and make sure you're okay."

His unexpected gentleness chips away at my resolve. Maybe…maybe just this once, I can let someone in. "Okay," I murmur. "But just…go slow."

He smiles softly and brushes a strand of hair from my face. It's a silent promise. He will take only what I'll give.

The first brush of his lips melts my doubts, igniting an inferno. We come together like two stars colliding—fiery and inevitable. Enveloped in his arms, I am safe, cherished, and whole.

It's a fleeting feeling, one I brush away like an annoying fly. This is just an omega and an alpha coming together.

As Quinn's lips caress mine, the world around us melts away, and I cling to him like a spider monkey. His kisses are like wildfire, consuming every part of me, and I burn for more. His hands roam my body, mapping my curves, while mine tangle in his hair, pulling him closer.

His scent engulfs me now, the intoxicating mix of lavender and bergamot enveloping me in a cocoon of desire. His fingers dance along my jawline, tracing the column of my neck, and I can't help but arch into his touch. He growls low in his throat, spurring me on.

"Your scent," he whispers against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "Sweet Aria, you smell like orange nectar."

My core clenches at his words, and I can feel wetness pooling between my thighs. My cheeks flush with heat as I remember my earlier thoughts about him having a knot. Oh goddess, why did I think that?

Now it's all I can think of, and my brain is getting foggy and heavy.

"Don't." I lick my lips. "Bite."

He clenches his teeth for a moment, nodding. "No biting," he promises. "But, Aria? You're mine from this day forward. I'm never letting you go."

"Agree to disagree," I mutter, but then he nips my lip and I'm a goner.

Quinn's tongue dances over the stinging spot, soothing the pain, but the fire he ignites within me rages on. His hand travels lower, cupping my ass and squeezing, sending sparks of desire shooting through me. I whimper in response, losing myself in the sensations he creates.

"Aria," he rumbles against my neck. "Your scent."

My rational mind screams at me to stop, to remember my commitment to myself and my career, but the scent of his arousal, musky and heady, short-circuits any last shred of self-control I have left.

"Condoms," I blurt out, suddenly aware of the risks we're both taking here, and I don't want to produce spawn yet.

He growls in frustration but reluctantly releases me. I watch with bated breath as he reaches into his pocket, and then he's right back where he belongs—against my aching body. Our lips collide once more as our hands fumble to undress each other. My shirt is the first casualty, followed by his button-down shirt and all other barriers between us.

Desperation almost makes me clumsy, but never in all my life have I felt such desire and passion and a loss of control.

That's because you never felt safe.

It's rude of my brain to be thinking right now, but okay, diva, pop off.

I feel the cool air caress my skin as my bra joins the growing pile of discarded clothing. We are like two teenagers realizing we have bodies for the first time, and it's amazing. My panties follow suit, and I'm naked in front of him.

Quinn's jaw clenches as he exhales a harsh curse, his eyes flashing with desire and admiration as he takes in my appearance. Despite the intensity of the moment, that boyish half smile I've come to associate with him plays at the corners of his mouth. "You're absolutely breathtaking," he rumbles, his voice dripping with lust and need.

I blush despite myself and bite my lip. "You haven't seen me naked?—"

He cuts me off with a searing kiss, his tongue plundering my mouth as if he's a man starved for water and I'm his salvation. His hands leave trails of fire in their wake as they explore every inch of me—my breasts, my stomach, the curve of my hip. Moaning into his mouth, I arch into his touch.

My insides twist and knot with aching emptiness, leaving me whimpering and pleading for relief. Quinn smirks at me, his twisted enjoyment oozing from every pore as he revels in my torture and desperation. This is everything I craved, yet it's almost too much and not nearly enough.

"Condom," I gasp out again, reminding us both of our agreement. Reluctantly, he breaks away just enough to tear open the condom, and I bite back a moan at the sound of the wrapper being ripped open.

With a playful glint in his eye, Quinn lifts me up against the wall, his strength making me feel weightless. "Going up?" he quips softly, his boyish charm shining through, even in this heated moment. His hands are firm yet gentle, showcasing both his enthusiasm and consideration as he positions us.

"Tell me you want this," he says, his voice a mix of alpha command and genuine concern. His golden eyes swirl with lust, but there's a softness there too. He brushes a tender kiss against my forehead. "We can stop anytime, you know that, right?" The care in his tone makes my heart flutter, even as desire courses through me.

In this moment, all I see is him.

"Yes," I answer, my voice a desperate whisper filled with longing and desire.

His answering growl is primal, animalistic, and oh so sexy. I knew the Clarke brothers would be an issue for my libido, and here we are, fucking against a wall like rabid animals.

Quinn pushes into me in one slow, aching thrust, filling me to the hilt. I gasp as he enters me, stretching me in ways I haven't felt before. My walls clench around him as I adjust to his girth. It's been a long time since I've been with anyone like this, and the sensation is both foreign and familiar.

"Tell me again," he rumbles, his voice strained. "Tell me you're mine."

Fear and lust war within me, but in this moment, I push aside my reservations and submit to the overwhelming need coursing through my veins.

As his jaw clenches with barely contained desire, he snarls out the words through gritted teeth. "Say it, Aria. I need to hear you say it." His voice holds a primal desperation, straining against the fragile fa?ade of control he's desperately trying to maintain.

Looking him in the eye, I say it again, but this time louder and with more conviction. "I'm yours." For now. Right now.

In response, Quinn growls low in his chest and slams me back against the wall, thrusting his cock deep, his knot teasing my entrance.

"Yes," I hiss, long and low.

"Thank the goddess," he mutters as he slides between my thighs, coating himself in my slick. We moan in unison.

Quinn's lips find my earlobe, his breath hot and ragged against my skin. "Gods, Aria…you're so wet for me," he rumbles. His hips begin to move slowly, dragging my slick over his cock and my thighs.

His thick knot teases my entrance, rubbing against my throbbing clit with slow, torturous strokes that have me whimpering in need. "You're so fucking tight," he snarls appreciatively, his voice rough with arousal as his fingers dig into the soft flesh of my ass cheeks.

The slick sound of our bodies merging fills the room, coupled with our ragged breaths and muted groans, then he stills inside me for a moment, allowing me to just feel him.

Quinn's breath fans hot against my skin, but he pauses, pulling back to meet my eyes. "You okay?" he asks, his tone gentle, despite the desire evident in his gaze. "We can take this slower if you need." His consideration, even in this heated moment, makes my heart swell. I nod, touched by his thoughtfulness, and he smiles before returning to trail kisses down my neck, each one a perfect blend of passion and care.

"Oh fuck!" I grip onto his shoulders. The way Quinn pulses inside me is overwhelming. My pussy clenches around him involuntarily as waves of pleasure ripple through me.

Quinn's mouth captures mine, but it's not just a kiss—it's an exploration. His lips move with enthusiastic curiosity, as if he's mapping every contour, savoring every taste. His hands roam with equal fervor, each touch a question and a discovery. As he starts to move inside me, it's with that same eager energy—slow at first, then building, each thrust an experiment in pleasure. His eyes, bright with wonder and excitement, never leave mine, as if he's cataloging every reaction, every gasp and moan, for future reference.

"Gods, Aria," he snarls between thrusts. "Your pussy is squeezing the hell out of me." His hands grip my ass tighter, anchoring us together as he rams deeper into me with each thrust.

My body responds instinctively to Quinn's raw dominance, each powerful stroke sending shockwaves of bliss through my core. His thumb finds my clit, rubbing circles that make stars explode behind my eyes.

"Harder," I moan, digging my nails into his back. He responds immediately, pounding into me with raw, animalistic need. The rough friction of his pelvic bone against my swollen bud pushes me to the edge.

Bathed in sweat and lust, our bodies move together as one—a testament of raw desire and pent-up sexual tension finally unleashed. It isn't enough. I need the rest of him. I need the knot pressing against me.

"Quinn," I whine, trying to push myself down on him harder.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through me. "Patience, sweetheart. Good things come to those who wait." His eyes twinkle with mirth. "And I promise, you'll be coming very, very soon."

Despite myself, I snort. "That was terrible."

"Made you laugh, though." He grins, punctuating his words with a particularly deep thrust that turns my laugh into a moan.

"You want my knot?" he whispers against my ear as he grabs me and begins to walk me to my bedroom while still thrusting in and out of me.

Honestly, that's a superpower I didn't know I needed in a partner until this very moment.

He casually carries me to the bedroom while pressing kisses along my neck and nibbling my ear.

The soft mattress cradles me as he lays me down, the haze of my preheat nearly undoing me.

With careful intent, Quinn begins to move within me, pulling back only to plunge deeper inside again. The measured tempo of his movements sends waves of anticipation crashing through me, our union an intoxicating symphony of sight and sound, the wet slap of skin against skin echoing like music in my ears.

As he buries himself within my inviting warmth, Quinn pauses, allowing me to acclimate to his knot. A decadent sensation of fullness blooms within me, and every nerve ending comes alive with electric pleasure that sparks at our connection point. I feel utterly claimed, stretched, and filled by him in a way that leaves no room for anything else.

"More," I cry, needing him to lock inside me.

He pulls back slowly before pushing forward again, each deliberate stroke designed to elicit maximum pleasure. The throbbing ridge of his length rubs tantalizing circles against my swollen nub, stirring waves of ecstasy that leave me breathless.

Quinn's hot kisses trail down my throat, causing delightful shivers to cascade along my spine. My fingers dig into his firm shoulders, gripping onto him for dear life as the pace quickens and the intensity heightens between us.

"Please, alpha," I whimper, arching against him.

He thrusts, sweat beading on his brow. "That's it, breathe," he coaxes, pushing his knot deep inside, and then he's locked into place.

The way he swells within me, pulsing with every thrust, ignites tidal waves of pleasure that wash over me. My body responds instinctively by clenching around him in a delicious rhythm, lighting up with electric pleasure.

He ruts me like a man possessed, and the tantalizing friction of his pelvic bone against my sensitive bud pushes me toward the precipice of pleasure. Our bodies dance in an intoxicating rhythm, completely lost in the carnal ballet we've orchestrated.

Hearing my needy plea, he ruts into me harder, losing himself in the raw, primal need that mirrors my own. We're locked in a fevered dance of desire, our sweat slicked bodies slamming together in time with our pounding heartbeats. Unrestrained by inhibitions or pretense, we are free to explore one another without fear or uncertainty—just pure, unadulterated lust.

The moment feels like an eternity stretched out before us. Bathed in sweat and consumed by carnal need, we move together as one entity, our connection a testament to raw, animalistic desire finally given voice within our joining. As his hands tightly grip my ass cheeks, anchoring us closer still, he whispers, "Aria, take my seed."

My world is nothing more than one endless orgasm that rushes through me again and again, ruining me for anyone else—happily, I may add.

"Yes," I whisper desperately, eager for everything he can give me, including his knot pressing insistently against me. His movements become more forceful, taking us higher into this passionate frenzy until there's no turning back.

Every fiber of me screams in pleasure, and I know there's only one place left to go—another explosive release waiting to consume us both. The crescendo builds within our twined bodies, a primal dance of desire reaching its peak. We plummet from the precipice into a sea of overwhelming ecstasy, and waves of pleasure course through us as we ride out the aftermath. My entire body continues to twitch.

Our breaths slow down and our heartbeats begin to regulate, but the intensity between us continues to smolder. Being with Quinn feels like finding home, and that is a very dangerous thing.

Don't get attached, Aria.

That's a problem for future Aria.

As he tenderly holds me close, he softly whispers, "Now that we are locked together, why don't you tell me why you are pretending to be something you're not?"

Well, shit.

If I pretend to pass out, will he call me on my bullshit?