Hackles and a Honeymoon, page 15
part #1 of Cursed by Kosmos Series
More flesh.
Less chance of breaking bone, hurting her.
Once it'd entered my mind, that was it.
There was no stopping udonie.
My jaw unhinged and I sank my aching fangs into her flesh at the exact moment she came.
Her desperate scream, dripping with carnal satisfaction, shook me to my core as she writhed.
I busted.
My cock pulsated, jetting streams of my spend in sync with my fangs. I claimed her entirely—pumping Birdie with every drop that surged from my cock, my teeth.
She didn't push me away. She clutched me tighter, and whispered nonsense to me in the throes of her pleasure.
The four punctures from my fangs welled little beads of blood that I quickly lapped at, savoring the salty taste and allowing the enzymes in my saliva to help the wounds clot and heal.
Birdie was mine.
Truly and thoroughly mine.
20
BIRDIE
Watching Omen play was thrilling. I wasn't suddenly into sports after a lifetime of indifference—I was into Omen.
The Meteor Mob had won every match they were in, busted their asses to get to this moment. To be one of only two teams in the league to occupy Tully Stadium's field under the bright lights tonight, cheered on by millions of fans, and playing the game they lived and breathed for.
I stood in the open box in front of the private viewing room. Lykree had dragged me up there, insisting it was the best place to view the whole game. Other mates of players were there too. It turned into a party suite. Food and drinks were served while everyone mingled and watched the most important game of the season.
I was paying attention. Honestly, I was. But as I observed Omen collaborate with his team on the field, in his tight, plated, charcoal gray bodysuit? Well...
It was challenging to think about the game and not his body on mine.
He breezed down the field, his movements confident, calculated, and precise, yet made within nanoseconds. He didn't have time to waste when he was in the thick of it, and his team trusted him. Anyone could see it in the way they coordinated like a hive mind.
My fingers absently brushed over my upper arm where the indentations of his bite were. No one else could see them under my sleeve, but I knew they were there.
We didn't talk about it. He was an alien man. There were bound to be differences between us in and out of the bedroom. Obviously his people were rougher with their bedmates.
I saw it as a sign of his control slipping in the heat of the moment. Maybe he'd been so lost in fucking he forgot I wasn't as sturdy as a verkonie.
The scar would be a reminder, after this was all over, that what Omen and I shared on the island was a moment of deep connection I'd never feel again with anyone else.
La Lei Rumoi would always be special to me, even though this whole thing was just a sham.
Wasn't it?
My shuttle home was booked for tomorrow. I'd be back on Earth in time for dinner and I looked forward to getting on with my normal life.
Didn't I?
Omen and I had agreed that if he got the contract, I'd pretend to be his mate for a maximum of one year. He traveled for games and my whole life was on Earth. My absence could easily be explained away.
He’d get to play for his dream team and I’d be debt free.
"He plays better when he knows you're watching him," Heboa said, coming up to stand beside me in the open box. He was my height, a little taller, with yellow fur and an elongated snout that was reminiscent of a canine.
A small smile tugged at my mouth, the thought settling comfortably in my chest. "You think so?"
"I've watched his games for a few seasons." He clapped as the rest of the stadium erupted when Omen scored ten points through the slem ring. "See?"
"GOOOOAAAAALLLL!" The announcers screamed.
Omen tore down the length of the field, his teammates flying after him as the fans lost their minds. The front rows reached and bent toward him in hopes of grazing his shoulder as he blazed by, fueled by his recent score.
And all the way from across the field, somehow he knew exactly where I was. He focused in my direction, pointing up at me as if to say, that one's for you.
A stupid giggle burst out of me. Each game or practice I'd been to, there was always a moment when he turned and found me.
The crowd broke into a song, chanting Omen's name before the next play began.
"We'll be happy to have him play for the Galactic Giants next season," Heboa admitted and my eyes lit up.
My hands flew to my mouth and I squealed. "Really? You're signing him?"
"That's the plan." Heboa's blue eyes dragged down my body, the action contrary to our cordial interaction.
"I'm..." I blinked, my smile somewhat faltering with the uncomfortable glance, but I quickly pushed through it. "I'm sure he'll be thrilled. That's great news!"
I turned back to the field, ignoring the needling twinge for a few moments before drifting back through the interior room. I shook off the unease as I nabbed a bottle of water and ate a couple appetizers before returning to the open box. This time, I stood on the opposite side, plenty of people separating me from Heboa.
The goals rotated, the shuffle causing a ruckus as the teams scrambled to reposition and nick points.
Once again, I was absorbed in watching Omen play. So much so that I didn't notice Heboa was beside me again until he spoke.
His voice lowered and he leaned sideways as if he were about to say something confidential to me. "I can keep a secret."
A bolt of fear cracked through me and my scalp pulled tight as if a bucket of spiders had been dumped over me. "I'm sorry, what?"
"I know you aren't his real mate," he said in a low tone so as not to alert anyone else around us.
My smile was forced now, just in case anyone was watching. "I don't know what you m—"
"Rexer told me all about it." He applauded when someone scored another goal, but by that time I was simply trying to stay steady on my feet and calm the sound in my head.
Voosh, voosh, voosh, my pulse swam in my ears.
I robotically clapped, racing through my options. What I should say, what I shouldn't say, and wondering if this was a trap.
Omen told his dad about our arrangement? How else would he know? No one on this planet had any idea. And Gram and Shelly would never in a million centuries say a word to anyone.
Dread swamped me. The sensation so oppressive it felt like I was being smothered and it was a struggle to take my next inhale.
I waffled between keeping silent or speaking up. It would be different if I was the only one who this affected. But...
Heboa held all the power here. If I said the wrong thing, Omen's career might go up in flames and I could not be responsible for that devastation.
"You won't tell anyone?"
"Of course not." Heboa leaned against the railing beside me. "The Giants need Omen if we're going to elevate the team next season."
My shoulders moderately relaxed.
Heboa's voice dropped when he said, "I'm sure we can work something out."
And all the anxiety came rushing back!
My face froze, lips pressed together to keep them from turning down at the corners and betraying how absolutely terrified I was. "You want money?"
His cold smirk settled like a stone in my gut. "I have money."
Gripping my fists on the railing, I pretended I was paying attention to the game below and not holding onto the bar like a lifeline while the carefully constructed house of cards came tumbling down around me.
"I'll make it simple," he drawled. "You let me sample your human body, Omen gets his contract."
Words failed me. My mouth opened and shut, but nothing came out because I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"Don't worry, I won't release inside you," he whispered menacingly. "After a nice, thorough bathing, he won't even be able to tell you rode another male's cock."
Bile scorched my throat and my mouth filled with tart saliva. The backs of my eyes stung.
"His future is entirely in your capable hands." Heboa leered, his eyes lewdly drifting over me like I was already his property. "Agree and I'll have a contract ready for Omen tonight. Otherwise..." He tilted his head. "Well, you understand. I'll give you until tomorrow to make a decision."
"Excuse me," I muttered, hand over my mouth. I stumbled before righting myself and crossing the interior box, trying my best to appear normal, happy even, as I made my way to the bathrooms.
I fumbled with the lock and then ran to the toilet, doubled over and vomited.
My eyes watered, my stomach cramped, and I let loose the flood of tears and anything left in my gut.
Humiliation swamped me at being propositioned like a piece of meat to be passed around. Did anyone else hear what Heboa said? Did anyone else think my body was for sale?
Wasn't Omen paying me and sleeping with me?
It's not the same, I corrected myself. I'd slept with Omen because I wanted to, not because I wanted something in return. In fact, sex expressly went against the agreement we had.
I shared my body with him because it was my choice.
I wanted to.
I enjoyed it.
If Omen told Rexer about us, I wouldn't be angry. It would be pointless to get upset over something I didn't know the details of. I'd give Omen the chance to explain to me how Rexer found out.
An empty feeling threatened to consume me at the realization that maybe, in the few weeks of getting swept up by everything Omen, I'd crossed a line.
The reality was, Omen and I weren't a real couple. He owed me nothing except what we agreed on if I held up my end of the deal.
Except our original agreement had crashed and burned, exploding into smithereens with Heboa's ultimatum.
I heaved again, my newly emptied stomach unable to offer up anything except a drizzle of bile. I dragged the back of my hand across my wet mouth and snatched tissues from the dispenser to blow my nose.
I couldn't do it. I wouldn't do it.
Leaving with a shred of my dignity intact would be a million times better than sharing my body with a sleazy pile of shit like Heboa.
Even if it meant costing Omen his dream team, his career, his future.
I'm sorry.
21
OMEN
My heart thumped hard in my chest as the lingering endorphins coursed in my blood while I made my way through the thick crowd in the luxury box, seeking Birdie.
Every game and practice she'd attended over the past couple weeks, I could always count on her to be waiting nearby once I got off the field or out of the locker room.
So it was odd to me that I couldn't find her anywhere after we'd just won the biggest game of the solar.
It was then that I realized how much I looked forward to seeing her face.
Celebratory cheers everywhere I turned ate up more of my time. The room was packed with teammates, their friends, Meteor Mob staff, press, and some celebrity fans.
Spotting Lykree and Heboa conversing, I cut toward them, interrupting. "Have you seen Birdie?" I asked Lykree.
"Omen!" Heboa firmly shook my hand. "Great game. Congratulations on the victory."
Pride swelled in me and a wide smile took over my face. The fact Heboa was here, had watched the game, and was talking to my agent boded well. It was all coming together.
"Thank you."
"Ready to join the Giants next season?"
Excitement rocked into me and it took a vice-like grip of my willpower to keep my composure and not appear too eager. As if this wasn't the moment my career would catapult into the stratosphere.
I'd look back on this one day, the win that secured my dream.
"Hell yeah."
Alright, so it wasn't my finest response, but it clearly conveyed I was more than ready.
"Now, now," Lykree chided. "Omen won't be going anywhere without a good deal. We still have much negotiating to do."
Heboa smirked over the rim of his glass. "Wise agent."
Lykree's antennae bobbed before she remembered I asked a question. "Oh yes, Birdie." She tapped her chin. "I think I saw her near the washrooms earlier."
"I'll check there. Thanks."
I waded through the party, keeping an eye out in case I spotted her somewhere else. It took forever to get there because every few steps I went, someone was stopping me to toast our win.
I rapped my knuckles on one of the doors lining the hallway. "Birdie, you in there?"
She wasn't in that one. I moved down the row, passing to the next when it was either empty or not Birdie on the other side until I got to the last door. "Birdie?"
My ears strained to listen for a response. Everything was loud but I heard it when her small voice said, "Yes?"
"Is everything okay?"
She didn't respond, which was instantly worrisome since Birdie was never one to miss an opportunity for a snappy comeback.
"Birdie?" I settled my hand on the knob. "Can you let me in?"
The latch flipped and she cowed behind the door, but allowed me entry. I closed it behind me, alarm immediately punching me in the gut when I got a look at her.
Smudges of cosmetics under her eyes conveyed she'd been crying. Her nose was red, and her skin was blanched of color.
My hands gently clamped down on her shoulders, pulling her to me. Her body melted against mine, she buried her face in my chest and her soft sobs nearly broke me in two.
"Little bird," I crooned, rubbing the palms of my hands up and down her back in an effort to comfort her, "what happened? Tell me what's wrong?"
"You're going to hate me if I do."
"We both know that's untrue."
"You will," she mumbled into my shirt. Her black mascara bled into the white fabric along with the dampness of her salty tears.
When I chucked a knuckle under her chin, she gazed up at me through red-rimmed eyes, her arms still clutching my waist.
"Tell me," I gently demanded, my thumb swiping at her wet cheek.
When she spoke next, revealing to me exactly why she was in there, and who upset her so badly, my world tilted sideways.
It was as if I'd become a backseat passenger in my own body because I saw and felt my arms let go of Birdie.
I saw and felt my fist wrench the door open, nearly breaking the handle in the process.
I saw and felt my legs eating up space as I moved down the hallway with lethal intent.
But while I saw and felt these things going on, I wasn't in full control.
My ears rang with a deafening roar that drowned out the noise of the crowd around me. It blocked out anyone who called my name, the cheers, the laughter, as I split through the room with one purpose—to fucking annihilate Heboa.
He didn't have a chance to say my name or make any excuses when I reached him.
He didn't have a chance to smile in my face as if he hadn't humiliated my mate like the fucking beast shit he was.
The power in my arm as I went in swinging, my knuckles landing with an audible thud against his smug fucking face.
I didn't pay attention to the screams as guests scrambled out of my way to avoid becoming collateral damage. A primal rage gripped me and a red haze tinted my vision as I followed Heboa down to the ground, tearing into his useless hide.
How fucking dare he?
"You thought you could have her?!" I seethed, my fangs dripping at the first draw of blood.
"Touch what's mine?"
My claws ripped into his chest and I cranked my elbow back for maximum leverage before I slammed my fist down into his jaw again.
My hackles stood and twitched, reveling in the sickening crack of bone on my next blow.
I roared, "TAKE WHAT'S MINE?"
Heboa's garbled screams as I lit into him were simply fuel to my unquenchable thirst for complete and total ruination.
My teammates rushed me, hands grabbing onto me, arms attempting to haul me off but they failed each and every fucking time.
Fury boiled inside me, dangerously intertwining with the adrenaline that swam in my blood and begged for absolute violence, ultimate damage, and pure carnage.
****
BIRDIE
The warmth in Omen's eyes had receded when he backed away from me and ripped open the door. He left the bathroom in a menacing daze, as if he was on autopilot.
"Omen?" I called, trailing after him, but it was like he couldn't hear me. As if whatever I said to him flipped a switch and he was this beast I'd never seen before.
I'd thought maybe he would be upset, maybe even blast Heboa to management. What unfolded next had been the furthest from my expectations.
The absolute wrath he unleashed on Heboa...
My hands flew to my mouth as he mauled him.
It was so fast, his wreckage so complete and expeditious that Heboa was already profusely bleeding before I could yell his name.
"You spawn of a fucking beast!" Omen thundered, repeatedly smashing his fist into Heboa's snout.
His teammates descended on him, failing to pry him off Heboa who wildly swung and tried to defend himself.
Omen roared, his muscles physically quaking with his outrage, flinging them away every damn time just to get in another vicious blow.
"Omen!" I shouted, but he couldn't hear me through whatever haze had him in its clutches right then.
I rushed closer, rounding so I was in his line of sight just as his teammates wrestled him back again. Real fear gripped me because if no one could stop him, he'd kill this man.
His lips were curled back in a snarl, razor-sharp fangs dripping, loops of saliva hung off their tips—the face of a rabid beast about to go in for the kill.
"OMEN!" I screamed his name, invading his space, forcing him to see me. My hands reached out to press against his chest, knowing he could fling me aside with zero effort if he truly wanted to.
His eyes flashed, violet and black and terrifying.
My palm slid up to cup the side of his face.
He refocused, his lavender pupils shrinking and widening like he was struggling back to his normal self.
"He's not worth it," I whispered.
