Pack Deception: Part One, page 15
"My lady." He bows a little and extends his hand to me. Goofy grin firmly in place, I take his hand and let him pull me out. It's then that I notice the black camera case he has hanging from a strap on his shoulder.
My eyes shoot up. "You're a photographer?" I ask. It's a large bag so the camera inside must be huge. And expensive, I think.
"I dabble," he shrugs. "I've been wanting to photograph this place at sunset for a while now. Interested in helping me out?" He waggles his eyebrows at me and taps the camera case at his side.
"Uh, I've never taken a picture that wasn't on my phone. I'm not sure I can help much..."
"You can be my muse," he answers with a wink.
Before I can respond, he's pulling me through the large wooden gate and into the gardens. My breath catches. It's breathtaking, and we're only at the entrance. Mason gets out his camera, and we walk side-by-side, stopping occasionally when he finds a spot he wants to capture. It's quiet, serene, with only the soft shuttering sound coming from beside me. I look around in a daze, wandering a little ahead of Mason and taking in the view. This part of the garden is my favorite. The sun is peeking through a canopy of trees, bathing the scene in the orange and red rays of the sunset. The waterfall on the left empties into a pond with water so clear I can see dozens of koi fish swimming around. The rocks, wet from the waterfall, are shimmering from the sun's reflection; some have the most vibrant green moss growing on them, it's like they were painted that way to give a more ethereal feel to the space. Trees are blooming with the first signs of spring and pink petals are bursting from the flowers on the ground that surround a round, wooden gazebo off to the right. With a small wood bridge over the pond connecting the patch of land I'm on and paving a path to the gazebo, I can't think of anything that would make this picture more perfect.
I turn around with a huge smile on my face to tell Mason this is his shot, but see the camera is already up to his eye, shuttering away. Only, he's not taking pictures of the garden, it's pointed right at me. My smile drops, and I suddenly feel so awkward and shy, I don't know what to do with myself. I throw my hands up to cover my face so he stops taking pictures of me. I'm not photogenic. It's why my old pack hated when the press were at charity events. They never said it was because of me, but there were always pictures of the three of them on the front page of the paper—usually taken when I went to the bathroom—but never of them with me.
Mason lowers the camera from his eye, gives me another one of his indulgent smiles, like I'm so cute when I'm shy, and clicks a few buttons before looking at the shots he got. "Enchanting," he breathes and breaks out in a big smile. "That's it. I won't be able to top those. Want to go get some dinner?" I let out a sigh of relief, worried he wanted to show me the pictures he took. I hate seeing myself on camera. I never used to, but now as soon as I look at a picture of me, the first thing I do is look for all my flaws. So I grab onto the escape he's offering, and we head out of the gardens.
When he's packing up his camera and putting it in the trunk, I ask, "How'd you find this place? It's incredible." I sidle up to him as he shuts the trunk and lean against the car.
He hesitates for a second, looking uncomfortable, before he lets out a breath and tells me. "Maverick actually. He took me to a Tai Chi class they offer."
"Oh, that sounds like so much fun." Mason nods. The way he's avoiding looking at me now, and how he's suddenly gone quiet, I have another question. I'm not sure if he'll be mad, but I'm dying to know. "So..."
His shoulders stiffen a little, but he tries to hide it by smiling at me, though his smile is tight. "So," he prompts.
"Are you and Maverick a couple?" I know they're something. I saw the passionate kiss they shared the first day I met them during the pub crawl on St. Patty's Day. I would have said they were together then, but I've not seen anything to really suggest it since. And either of them taking me out isn’t an indicator either way. With pack life, monogamy is almost nonexistent. Maybe their relationship is just physical.
"What makes you ask that?" he wonders, avoiding the question.
"You seemed like it when I first met you guys, but you've not seemed as happy lately. I don't know, I guess I was just wondering if it was something you wanted to talk about." I shrug, and he looks at me with somewhat squinted eyes, like he's trying to figure me out, but then his shoulders droop a little, and he sighs.
Twenty-One
Mason
My heart is beating fast in my chest, hammering against my ribcage, and I can feel my palms start to sweat. I can't lie to her. I can't lie to my mate about Maverick. What if she doesn't want us to be together? What if she's disgusted by us and tells us to choose between each other and her? Then again, is there even an us anymore? We've done a bang up job of avoiding each other without our omega telling us to. He probably doesn't even want me now that he's found his fated mate.
Tossed aside, just like before, the devil on my shoulder whispers to me. Sure, Maverick will still come to sleep by me in the middle of the night on occasion. He'll even give me a kiss goodnight. But we don't touch anymore. Not like we used to, where we moved so effortlessly with one another—in perfect sync. Now everything is stilted, calculated. We dance around each other. It's because he's too nice to cut things off with me. He doesn't want me to feel abandoned again, so he still allows the small touches here and there. Like I'm some wounded flower he needs to cater to. But I found my fated mate too, it's not going to be like last time.
Unless she rejects you, it whispers again. What does an omega need with a beta, anyway? You can't knot her like she needs, it hisses at me.
I shove away the self-deprecating train of thought and focus back on my mate. My mate who has been nothing but caring and compassionate since we met. Never having given any credence to warrant this slow spiral I've been on since we met. Not about her, of course. Today was like a fairytale. Being around her is so easy, and my heart felt like it would burst at how beautiful she looked today through my lens. I can't believe how lucky I am to have her. For now at least. Until I answer her question.
Are we a couple?
Fuck if I know anymore. But I told myself if she ever asked, I'd be honest about it and take it from there. "We were," I tell her, though it sounds more like the words are being choked out of me.
She frowns. "Were? But aren't anymore?"
I try to look for any change in her expression or hint at how she feels about that, but I don't get anything. "I'm honestly not sure. Things haven't been the same since..."
"Since?" she prompts me when I try to find a way to say since you without actually saying it.
Instead I say, "Since St. Patty's Day, I guess."
Her brows shoot up. "You guys seemed really happy then. What happened?"
We found our mate. "He's been distant since then. I've been distant," I sigh. "We both have." Except today, when he called me out of the blue and asked me to take Summer out in his place. He said an emergency came up with the new house they've started construction on. But he's so transparent, endearingly so, sometimes. He knows I'm going out of town Monday for a whole week. It's been a trip I've had planned for months now with another photographer friend of mine. We're heading to Iceland to do five days on the Laugavegur Trek, shooting a film for a huge brand deal we're trying to land. The marketing exec chose three portfolios, and we each get a chance to send in a sample video. If it's chosen, we'll be given a contract as the sole photographer and videographer for the brand for a whole year. I can't cancel it, even if the thought did enter my mind after meeting Summer. So if Maverick thinks I don't know he willingly gave me his date night since I'll be away from her for at least the next eight days, he's delusional.
I must have zoned out, because Summer takes my hand in hers and rubs the back of it with her thumb in soothing strokes. My eyes shoot to hers, and I'm a little shocked to see the level of sadness in them. "You must miss him," she frowns.
Fuck, do I ever. Any words I had ready get stuck on the lump in my throat. But there’s something holding us back from each other. I know what it is on my end. It feels like cheating on Summer. On Maverick’s side though? I’m almost too scared to ask. To think about the possibility that it could be happening again. Ever since I saw the way Hudson and Summer acted together outside the coffee shop when Amanda started on her bullshit. Summer was possessive—even without being aware of the mate bond—and Hudson only had eyes for her. He treated her exactly how everyone treats omegas. They’re to be cherished above all else, but especially betas. I’ll never measure up. Half of me understands that it’s supposed to be like that with your mate, the other half is stuck in the past and afraid his boyfriend is exactly like every alpha before him.
I miss him more than I can even express, but I don't want to tell Summer that. Not yet. Not until she knows we're mates and can tell us for certain that she's okay with us being together. I can feel my eyes start to sting, and before I know it, she steps into me and throws her arms around my middle, hugging me in a fierce embrace. Her head is tucked against my chest, and my arms wrap around her on instinct, chasing the comfort she's providing and holding her head against my body.
Summer may not know we're mates, but she's still an omega, and she must sense my distress because a purr rumbles through her chest and into mine, warming me from the inside out. The tension in my body drains away, and I hold her to me, wondering how the hell I got so lucky to have her as a mate. "You guys will figure it out, Mason. Just talk to him, I'm sure he misses you, too," she mumbles against me. I want to tell her right now. That she's ours, and see what she thinks about it then, but we agreed to tell her as a pack, so I bite my tongue. Instead, I lean back and look at her. Sultry brown eyes peek up at me through a thick curtain of lashes. She should not be able to look so innocent, yet so sexy at the same time. I brush a lock of her silky brown hair behind her ear and cup her face. She closes her eyes and leans into my hand; her face looks so dainty against it, and I have the sudden urge to kiss her. No, urge is too tame a word for the feeling that starts to overwhelm me. It's more like a compulsion, one that is impossible to resist. So I don't.
I brush my thumb across her high cheekbone to get her to open her eyes. When she does, I lean in. Her pupils dilate, and her mouth parts slightly as her eyes dart to my lips. I almost groan at the hungry look in her eyes. She reaches up on her tiptoes at the same time as I bend down, and our lips meet in a soft, gentle kiss. But then she reaches her hand up and yanks the back of my head back down as I'm about to pull away, and her kiss this time is urgent, fevered. With a sweep of my tongue across her lips, she opens on a moan, granting me access. We kiss like this, frenzied and hurried, and I suddenly need more. I reach down, grip just below Summer's perfect ass, and lift her. Her legs wrap around my waist on instinct, and I turn so that most of her body weight is pushed against the car. My dick is straining painfully against my zipper, and I thrust it against her core for a little relief.
She mewls, soft and sweet, and grinds down on me in return. I squeeze her ass a little harder at the sensation and moan as she does it again and again. Here we are dry humping like a couple of teenagers, but I can't stop. Especially not since she breaks away from the kiss and starts moaning in my ear.
Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop.
I continue gyrating my hips against her core and tilt her head to the side so I can kiss and suck at her neck, right where I'd put my claiming mark if I could. I bite down gently, and she shouts her release, clings to me, and shakes violently in my arms.
A loud sound from behind us makes Summer jolt out of her post-orgasmic haze as someone clears their throat.
"Oh Goddess," Summer groans—in embarrassment this time—and tucks her head into my neck. I want to laugh at her for hiding, but I look behind me to see who cleared their throat, and it was a dad, walking with his wife and two young daughters, no older than five. The mom is looking disapprovingly at us and covering her daughters' eyes, while the dad is doing his best not to laugh.
"Sorry," I say back to them and carry Summer to the passenger side, depositing her in the seat before walking slowly to the driver side. I adjust my cock and give it a squeeze to try to relieve some of the pressure. It's still aching, need coursing through me like a raging tidal wave, beating against every orifice in me creating a maelstrom of desire.
When I slide into the drivers side, I almost choke on the pheromones Summer is putting off. Her omega perfume is everywhere, and as turned on as I was five seconds ago, it is unbelievably worse now. A tortured groan escapes me as I try to breathe through my mouth and will my erection down. But Summer has other plans. She leans across the center console. With one hand, she starts stroking me through my jeans and the other starts to unbutton them. I grab her wrist. She peeks up at me, brown eyes almost swallowed whole by her pupils. "You don't have to," I say, but the throaty tone of my voice gives away just how much I want it. Need it.
"I want to," she almost whines in that sweet, lyrical voice of hers. And I believe her, because another burst of her perfume envelopes me as she gets my pants unbuttoned and sees the head of my cock poking out. I'm not wearing any underwear so she starts tugging on my jeans, and I lift to help her. She only pulls them down enough for all of me to be on display for her before she leans over and licks a stripe up the vein and sucks the head like a lollipop. Her hair is down so I lift it all up in one hand, wrapping it around my fist to watch her work my cock deep into her mouth until I hit the back of her throat. She moans like she's the one getting a treat, not me, and the vibrations make me cry out and buck up into her.
She chokes a little. "Sorry, sorry," I mutter out, breathless.
She pops off of me just long enough to look up and say, "It's okay. I like it."
Then she takes me back into her mouth, bobbing up and down, the wet heat of her feeling like it should be a sin. Thank the Goddess these windows are tinted.
I'm so close to cumming, but I want to test out what she just said. The next time she's going down, taking me into her, I thrust up. She gags a little again but moans, too. So I tighten the grip on her hair and control her movements, pushing down as I thrust up. Again and again until I'm fucking her face.
"Fuck, yes," I groan, and buck up faster and faster, chasing my release. Summer's perfume is almost overwhelming now, and I watch in fascination and she snakes her hand down into her pants and rubs her clit hard and fast, working for her second release. The sight has my hips stuttering, and jets of cum shoot out of me in violent, almost painful spurts. Summer swallows every ounce of it and then moans around my semi-soft cock as she cums a second time. I shout at the over-sensation and gently pull her off me. A little bit of my release dribbles out of her mouth, and I catch it on my thumb and push it back in. She takes it eagerly, sucking my thumb hard before biting down gently. My cock twitches in response, and she smirks as she notices. The little vixen. I lean in and kiss her sweetly to counter how rough I just was.
People may think Maverick is the dominant one in our relationship, and he can be, but my tastes tend to run a little darker than his in the bedroom, and he gets dominated just as often as he gives it.
She purrs a little against my lips, and I know I didn't scare her off. Summer breaks away before I'm ready, but then smiles at me. "So, dinner?" A loud laugh startles out of me as I stare into her beautiful brown eyes, sparkling with mischief.
Damn, I'm one lucky guy.
Twenty-Two
Summer
The soft, constant buzzing is the only noise that filters through my apartment. Darkness is all that can be seen out of my window, and even the streets are quiet, asleep. Everyone but me as I hold the small pink bullet to my clit and teeter toward the edge of what has to be my twentieth orgasm. It's not enough though. Sweat is pooled beneath my back and under my thighs. My body is so overheated, I'm writhing completely naked with my blankets kicked around me in a cocoon. They're all still on the bed though, despite my slick skin, because the comfort of my nest satiates my omega.
"Argh," I cry out softly as another orgasm sends tingles through my body. It's a temporary relief. Hardly one at all, really. After so many, it feels more akin to a soft fluttering through my core than the all-consuming thing I need it to be. I know what can fix it. An alpha's knot. But I don't have one of those, and my heat hasn't even started yet.
I could weep at the thought. As I turn the bullet off, and the buzzing quiets, my thoughts race at how I know the next week will go once my heat comes. If I'm this needy already, I'll be miserable. My head turns toward the bathroom of its own accord, where I lament the loss of the heat suppressants I flushed down the toilet. Caught between cursing myself straight to hell at the foresight I showed a few weeks ago and patting my back for the same, I'd happily sell my soul to fast forward three months so it's safe to take them again. With a groan, I roll over and tap my dark phone screen. I blink rapidly and squint at the bright light as it comes to life.
"Ugh," I huff when I see it's still an hour before I have to get ready for work. Normally, I'd love to get some more time to sleep, but with these constant heat hormones hitting me, sleep is not a luxury I seem to have right now. My body is a live wire of need, so I'd love nothing more than to get to work. Anything for a distraction. I should be safe during the day; when I'm no longer plagued with dreams of Pack Whitlock and their enticing scents, wandering hands, big co–
I pick up the vibrator I just discarded, turn it on again, and groan as I place it back against my swollen and sensitive mound.
Just a few more before work...
A few more turned into me grabbing the dildo from my closet and fucking myself with it for the next hour, while I held the bullet against my nub. At least by the time I got up an hour later, I had exhausted myself enough that the cravings—the need—passed. I just have to go the whole day without thinking about Brooklyn, Mason, Hudson, or Maverick, and I should be able to keep myself under control.
