Chapter Five - The Hunt

"It is integral that omegas have places that are solely for them. Bars, restaurants, gyms. We want to build and nurture the community between omegas, and in order to do that, they need their own spaces."

— Tweet from Kathleen Rodriguez, known omega rights activist, fifteen years post Collapse

__________

The night that Din had come over for dinner, the night she'd lost all semblance of control and scented herself on his neck while Jeremy sat in his office, only feet away from them.

That night Jeremy had exploded.

She'd been sleeping, already residing deep under that thick, black void, already wrapped in those big arms, her face buried in his wide chest, his voice— the one she'd clung to for half her life— swirling around her. When Jeremy's voice burst through her dream, snapping her awake, ripping her from the peace of her stupor, and flinging her into a hell of her own creation.

"You scented yourself on him?" Jeremy burst, his eyes looking like they were about to pop from his skull, a pulsing vein she'd never seen before throbbing in his neck.

She opened her mouth, perhaps to try to lie, but he was screaming before she could even emit any sound.

"Don't even try to lie to me, I can smell him, this whole fucking room smells like that brute!"

"He's not a brute!" she spat out, tugging the duvet up to her chin when Jeremy shot her an enraged glare.

"Get out," he spat out, too calm, but when she didn't immediately move, he screamed it, "GET OUT! Go sleep on the fucking couch!"

Daisy's heart was slamming against her ribs, her head still dizzy and disoriented from sleep, so she stumbled as she tried to get out of bed, catching herself on the nightstand, then picking her pillow up and dashing out of the room, trying to give Jeremy's fuming form a wide breadth.

"Fucking weak ass omega," he muttered under his breath as he slammed their bedroom door shut.

The guilt swirling in Daisy's gut was thick, but perhaps... not as thick as it should have been, not nearly as strong as the brutal tug in her chest. And maybe that made her bad, maybe that made her disgusting and cruel and sinful... unless...

Unless Din was her mate.

Then surely, she could not be at blame, then surely her actions would not be condemned.

Her mate. Even the thought that someone so strong, someone so kind and gentle could be her mate, that she could somehow belong to him, the thought alone was enough to make her entire body tremble with need.

But maybe she was kidding herself, excusing her behavior on the smallest chance that Din was her mate.

She thought she'd never have a mate... especially not one like him.

She curled up that night on the couch, under one of her little throw blankets, and stared at her phone, stared at his name in her contacts, her heart pounding in her chest, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.

She wanted to ask him... but that's not how these things worked. The omega never had to ask, the alpha always told them, marked them and mated.

Her belly clenched tight while the space between her legs ached like an open wound at the thought.

She pulled up his contact and started typing— Maybe this is a weird question, but I was just wondering, and—

She shook her head at herself, deleting the message and throwing her phone down on the couch. She couldn't ask him... especially not over text, not with her fiancé in the next room.

Daisy picked her phone back up and typed hi into the little text box, sending the message before she could overthink how strange her behavior was... texting him at midnight after the man she was supposed to marry had kicked her out of their bedroom.

Her phone buzzed not even a minute later and she scrambled for it, her heart beating fast and off-rhythm in her chest.

Why aren't you sleeping, Daisy?

She bit down hard on her bottom lip as she typed four different variations of the same message before finally sending one.

Jeremy got mad and kicked me out of the bedroom.

His response was instantaneous: Excuse me?

It's fine. I'm just on the couch, can't go back to sleep.

She wanted to add and I miss you to the end, but decided against it.

I'm sorry, his response came in a second later, I'm sure that's my fault.

No! she typed frantically Not your fault, he's just been short tempered since starting hormones.

Din's response didn't come immediately and Daisy sat there staring at her phone, her heart fluttering in her throat, her thumbs almost typing out another message before his popped up on the screen.

He's never hurt you has he?

Daisy chewed on her bottom lip as she typed out a response: Not physically no, never.

This time Din's response was immediate. If he ever does, I'll kill him.

Her belly swooped low as she read his reply, two, three times.

And so maybe she was cruel, and awful, and horrible, that her body had such a physical reaction to him threatening to murder her fiancé.

I didn't know pilots were allowed to take side jobs as assassins, she sent, trying to lighten the mood.

I had them add that clause to my contract.

Daisy laughed, softly under her breath so that Jeremy wouldn't hear.

You should go to sleep, Daisy. It's late, came another message a second later.

Are you going to go to sleep? she sent, chewing on her bottom lip, trying to imagine him— wherever he was... his couch maybe, his bed...

His response popped up on her screen just as she was constructing an image of what that might look like— bare, tanned, wide chest, his brown hair slightly disheveled, blankets pooled up on his lap— I'm going to try.

Her heart sunk a bit closer to her gut as she typed out, Okay, goodnight, Din.

But it quickly rose back up to pound in her chest as his response popped up on her screen:

Goodnight, sweet girl.

__________

They texted incessantly after that night, all weekend, into the work week. Din had to fly to Colorado, spend two days there, then to Vermont before he got to fly home. It made missing him slightly easier, having that line of communication always open, but it did not ease the tug in her chest, which yanked at her all day and night.

She did not tell him that she missed him, in any of the hundreds of texts they sent each other that week, and neither did he, but it was constant and all-consuming, a kind of yearning she'd never felt before, a need so deeply planted in her core it felt like it was a part of her.

What's your favorite color, she texted him as she sat down at her desk.

Blue, he replied, yours?

Brown.

Brown?

It's warm.

It was also the color of his eyes, his hair, but she wasn't going to tell him that.

When she went out to take a walk on her lunch break, she texted him again.

Is it snowing in Vermont? It's sunny here, but it's actually kind of cold.

It's raining. Might have to delay the flight. Thought I'd be home by six.

Do you miss it here when you leave?

More lately than I have in the past.

She tried not to read into that last message, but her heart pounded regardless.

An hour later, at her desk, her phone chimed and she scrambled for it, peering around to make sure Thomas or one of the other VPs weren't watching as she opened his text.

Taking off in a minute here. Little under six hours of flight time. Should land before seven.

Her bottom lip jutted up between her teeth.

Fly safe, captain.

His response came less than a minute later.

I always do.

__________

Daisy had been avoiding Jeremy all week, which turned out, wasn't that hard.

He was at work earlier and later than she was, his Evolution meetings on Wednesdays went until nine or ten in the evening, and he usually spent most of the weekend at the gym... trying to bulk up, even though everyone knew beta's bodies were not built for retaining very much muscle mass. So, when her friend Erika invited her out on Friday night, to an omega's only bar in North Beach, she obliged.

April Jean was a cocktail bar out on Grant, situated right next to Maggie McGarry's, which was an Irish pub that unmated alphas frequented. She wondered if that bit of city planning had been done on purpose, putting an omega's only bar right next to a pub that housed almost exclusively alphas...

The inside was dimly lit in the evenings, decorated in fifties or maybe sixties style— vertical paneling on the walls, a record player behind the bar, little round tables at the back of the room, plants and colorful paintings hanging on the wall, stuffed onto the top shelf of the bar.

Daisy fidgeted, trying to get comfortable on the hard, round stool, constantly looking over her shoulder to see if Erika was coming back with their drinks yet. Her friends— Erika's friends really— Sophie and Maria were whispering and giggling about something that Daisy couldn't hear from the other side of the table.

She'd felt strange all day, a little overheated, like she was running a fever, a little antsy, a tad nauseous. The night Din had come over for dinner she'd forgotten to take her suppressants, but that was a week ago, and she'd started taking them again the next day... her heat wasn't due for another two weeks, so surely it couldn't be that.

"Here you go," Erika said as she placed Daisy's drink down in front of her and took the seat next to her.

"Thanks," Daisy flashed her friend a smile and twirled her straw around her glass, taking a small sip. It was fruity, watermelon maybe, and tequila. She normally would have liked it, but something about the alcohol made her stomach swirl with more of that nausea that had been plaguing her all day.

Daisy turned her nose up and pushed the glass closer toward the middle of the table.

"What's wrong?" Erika asked, with a small tilt of her head, "you don't like it? We can trade if you want," her friend said, holding out her espresso martini.

Daisy shook her head, "No, thanks though, it's good, I'm just— I don't know, I've been kind of nauseous all day."

Erika's face twisted with worry, "Heat, you think?" she whispered, leaning closer to Daisy. "If it is, you should get out of here, the guys next door can smell that shit from a block away."

Daisy shook her head, "Not for two more weeks."

Erika took a slow sip of her drink, raising her eyebrows over her glass. "I don't know how you get through your heats without an alpha, I think I would die without Marcus."

Daisy shrugged, reaching out to twist her glass around and around in a little circle. "Suppressants work just fine, toys, Jeremy..."

She wasn't going to tell her friend that her body rejected Jeremy every time he tried to sleep with her through one of her heats. One time she'd actually vomited after he came inside her. He'd gotten so angry that he'd made her clean it up while she was still actively in heat, her body weak and sore and in need of something he obviously could not give her.

Daisy pulled her phone out of her bag, frowning when the screen was devoid of any messages from Din.

The brutal tug in her chest yanked at her, while her stomach continued to swirl with nausea. She missed him like some vital organ, like someone had ripped her heart or her lungs out, it didn't feel like she could properly breathe without him nearby.

And that was wrong, wasn't it?

"How's wedding planning going?" Erika asked, and Daisy's eyes snapped up to her friend, then across the table, where Sophia and Maria's conversation had died off, their eyes now trained on her.

"Oh, oh it's fine— I mean we haven't really planned much beyond the venue. I still need to look at dresses and— and send invites... and well, everything else, I guess," Daisy's rambling fell off as a marriage of guilt and dread bubbled up in her core. Her eyes flickered over to the girls across from her, who were staring at her with a mix of pity and confusion in their eyes.

"I'm happy to help you," Erika's voice dragged Daisy's attention back to her, "I mean, I don't know that much about weddings, I never had one, but... I'm an extra set of hands!"

Erika hadn't had a wedding because she had a fated mate— Daisy's only friend who ended up having one— and fated mates didn't need weddings, because they were already bonded in a way far more intimate, a binding of souls rather than bank accounts.

Daisy tried to swallow the bitter jealousy, the longing that surged up in her chest, but failed as she flashed her friend a soft smile.

"Thanks, maybe you can help me make a guest list next week."

Never mind that just the thought made that nausea in her gut increase tenfold.

Her friend nodded, her dark crown of coiled hair bouncing at the motion.

Daisy picked up her drink and chugged a good portion of it to try to alleviate the ache in her core, but it only made her cringe. She fidgeted on her stool, checked her phone again.

"How's it going with Xavier?" Erika asked her friend across the table, pivoting her body away from Daisy.

Sophia groaned, "He's an asshole. Still sleeping with anything he can get his hands on."

Did Din sleep with anything he could get his hands on? The thought made something sharp and biting spring up in her gut. She couldn't imagine him doing that... but maybe that was just because she didn't want to imagine it. Alphas weren't exactly known for their restraint when it came to sexual endeavors.

"I'm sorry," Erika said softly, reaching across the table and squeezing Sophia's hand. "Maybe it's time to look elsewhere."

"Easy for you to say oh fated one," Sophia scoffed jestingly.

Erika flashed her a glare that didn't really meet her eyes, because they were twinkling as she turned to stare out toward the door.

"Where is Marcus, anyway? I like... never see you two apart," Maria asked, twirling her straw around her margarita.

"He's just next door watching the game, he doesn't like it when I'm too far from him, well neither of us like it," Erika said with a sigh, taking a long sip of her drink and staring longingly over her shoulder.

"What do you mean?" Daisy pipped in, her butt moving toward the edge of her stool.

Erika shrugged, a small motion of one of her shoulders moving toward her ear. "It's hard to explain... it's like this... tug? I guess? In the middle of my chest. It feels like I'm missing something when we're not together."

All the moisture in Daisy's mouth seemed to evaporate at once, her tongue suddenly feeling too big and thick, like she might choke on it. She swayed a bit in her seat, all the blood seeming to drain from her face.

"Are you okay, Daisy? You look kinda pale?" Erika's voice echoed from somewhere above her, but it didn't look like her mouth was moving in sync with the sound of it.

"I'm fine," she blurted out, trying to steady herself with the edge of the table. "Do you— do you guys feel like that?" Daisy asked, glancing over at Sophia and Maria.

They both shook their heads.

"That's just a fated mates thing. The only time I ever feel any kind of tug is when I'm in heat, and it's not for fucking Xavier, I'll tell you that," Sophia scoffed, "any alpha will do," she said, flicking her blond hair off her shoulder.

A tug in the middle of my chest. It feels like I'm missing something when we're not together.

Isn't that exactly what she'd been feeling... since the moment she met Din?

__________

Din did everything he could not to race out of the terminal, but his strides were long and quick, one of his hands carried his suitcase while the other gripped his phone, waiting for it to buzz, counting seconds like they were hours.

He missed her like he could die from it, or maybe it was just the beast that missed her, he didn't know anymore, everything was too muddled, he just knew that if he didn't see her tonight, he was going to lose his goddamn mind.

The minute he landed he'd sent her a text, a heavily edited text from the version that he wanted to send her: Just landed. Are you at home?

He knew she wasn't at home, he could feel her presence tugging at him from further away than that, but he needed her to tell him where she was, so that when he showed up, she wouldn't wonder how he'd been able to find her.

The week away had been torture of the highest degree. He would have rather gone through brutal rounds of physical and mental interrogation if it meant she would be in the room with him. He'd done nothing over the span of his trip beyond text her incessantly and pace his hotel room. The tug was brutal from the other side of the country, so miserable he hadn't even really been able to sleep without it forcing him awake with an agonizing yank.

He didn't know what he was doing, how he was supposed to detach himself when his body wouldn't let him, when the pain of being away from her was all-consuming, life-altering, the kind of agony that would make a weaker man go mad, completely insane.

Maybe he was insane, had already lost all of himself to the beast.

When his phone finally buzzed, he nearly dropped it, fumbling for the thing, his heart pounding heavily against his ribs.

No. I'm at an omega bar with some friends.

He was going to need more information than that.

Which one? He texted back, instead of sending her any of the spiraling thoughts that were rattling around in his head.

By the time he got in his car and changed into a shirt and a hoodie from his pack, throwing his flight uniform into the backseat, she still hadn't responded.

He sat there, aching, his heart pounding heavily in his chest, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel, waiting.

She never took longer than a few minutes to respond, and so even though the more logical part of Din knew she was just preoccupied, hanging out with her friends, the baser part of him panicked, constructing baseless violent scenarios that made the beast scream.

He had to make sure she was safe, that was what he told himself, that was the excuse he conjured as he started his car and whipped out the parking garage.

He followed the tug up 101 North, to 280, through Chinatown, and into the heart of North Beach, his body twitching, muttering out curses as he sped around slower cars. He just needed to see her, just for a minute, just to sedate that tug in his chest, the screaming in his head.

He pulled into a parking spot down the street from where the tug was leading him, glancing at his phone again as he got out of his car.

Still no text from her.

How the fuck was he going to explain himself this time?

He couldn't seem to find the will to care when she was so close, after a week of torture, finally only feet away from him.

He marched down Grant Street, side stepping and sneering at two alphas pushing each other in front of Maggie McGarry's Pub. He hated that place; it was always filled with hot-heads looking to snag an unmated omega from the bar next door... the bar Daisy was in.

The beast bellowed.

He wasn't paying attention to anything when he went to step inside, just the direction of the pull, so when a hand landed on the middle of his chest and gently pushed him back, he snarled.

"Omegas only, sorry bud," the bouncer stated, dropping his hand from Din's chest and crossing his arms, moving to stand in front of the doorway.

Din took a minute to size him up. He could punch him. He could choke him out. But that would only cause a scene, and probably result in a swarm of alphas from McGarry's pouring into the bar.

He grunted, stepping back and scanning the front of the building, his core ached as he turned onto Green Street to look at the other side. There was a large window there, closed, certainly to ward off alphas yelling into the bar— which was exactly what he'd been trying to do— but as soon as he peered inside, he caught sight of her, turned away from him, her tumbling golden waves making his hands clench into fists at his sides at how badly he wanted to touch them again, silk against his palm.

Perhaps this should've been enough for him... seeing her from outside, catching a glimpse, but after a week of agony he needed more.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and pulled up her contact, pressed the call button. Din watched from outside the window, his heart pinching in his chest as she fumbled through her purse, pulling her phone out and bringing it to her ear.

Her sweet voice flooded his head in the next second.

"Hi!" she squeaked out. "Sorry, I just saw you texted me, I was listening to my friend's story about this crazy guy who punched a hole in her door last week, it's so insane, I guess he was on—"

"I'm outside, Daisy," he said, feeling guilty for interrupting her, but he would rather see her face while she prattled on. He liked the little expressions she made while she babbled.

"Wha—" she started, whipping around in her seat, her face lighting up when her eyes caught his through the window.

The flood of affection that rose in his chest was almost too much to bear.

She immediately dropped her phone into her bag, abandoning the thing on the table and racing toward the door. Din looped around the side of the building and met her on the corner.

"Din!" she burst— a wide grin on her face, those deep blue eyes glowing— then she crashed straight into his chest, her skinny arms wrapping around his torso and grabbing fistfuls of the back of his jacket.

The tug ceased to exist, relief, warmth flooded his core as he let out a soft chuckle, leaning down enough so that he could wrap his arms around her waist, crushing her delicate form against him, relishing in how light he felt, how perfect she fit in his arms, like she was meant to be there.

I missed you, he wanted to say, I missed you so fucking much I couldn't stand it.

But he didn't say that, wouldn't let himself. Instead, he tried to swallow a groan as the smell of her flooded his nose— for the first time in a week— floral and sweet but different, heavier, heady, so thick he could almost taste it.

The beast purred while Din's cock jolted against the zipper of his jeans.

She was about to go into heat.

Daisy keened, a high, trembling little whine as she tried to climb further up the great length of him, so she could bury her face in his neck again, drink in the comforting scent of him at a closer proximity, even though she was already wrapped up against him, the solid wall of him, his thick arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

She felt dizzy and out of control, a warm weight growing in her pelvis, flooding down to ache between her legs. He was so strong, and so warm, and being wrapped up against him after a week away felt like coming home. All the tension she'd been carrying, all the pain in her gut vanished, replaced with something so needy she felt like a servant to it.

"Daisy," Din choked out her name, unwinding his arms from her just enough so that he could stare down at her. Those deep, blue eyes had gone glossy, pupils blown so wide her eyes almost looked black.

She made that noise again, that whimpering whining noise and he shut his eyes tight, grinding his teeth, his cock already growing hard, pressing uncomfortably against his jeans.

"Daisy, go get your things, I'm taking you home," he spat out, opening his eyes to watch as her eyebrows pinched together in confusion.

"Why? You just got here, we could go get a drink somewhere else or—"

The beast snapped his restraint in half, and he lowered his head to her level, catching her nape with his hand as she let out a little yelp.

"I can smell you, little omega, don't think I'm going to let you walk around here unsupervised."

Daisy's pelvis flooded, a tremble rushing through her spine as Din's low baritone vibrated her skull, his thick fingers digging into the glands on the side of her neck.

And she realized then, that it was clear to him, before it was even clear to her, that she was going into heat, two weeks early.

"O—okay," she nodded, as much as his grip on her nape would allow, and let him walk her back to the entrance of the bar, his growl to the alpha working the door enough to make her quiver as he let go of her neck and she scrambled inside.

Her friends all shot her concerned stares from the table as she rushed toward them, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder.

"I have to go, sorry, it was so nice seeing you gu—" her words stumbled to a halt as Erika stood up and grabbed her arm, her eyes flickering over to the door, where she knew Din was standing.

"What's going on, Daisy? Do you know that guy?" her friend asked, lowering her voice enough so that no one else could hear them.

Daisy nodded urgently, "He's my friend. I just— I don't feel well, he's going to take me back home."

She nearly choked on the word friend, and Erika's brows rose at the sound of it.

"I can go get Marcus; he can drive us both home—"

"No!" Daisy spat out, felt her cheeks flush as she shook her head, "No," she said softer this time, "it's fine, really."

Erika shot Din a stern look, then turned back to Daisy. "You text me the minute you get home."

"Promise," Daisy said, flashing her friend a smile.

Erika pulled her into a quick hug, and Daisy felt her watching as she scampered out of the bar, where Din immediately took her by the nape, keeping her close to him as he began leading her down the street, his wide form a heavy weight at her back.

They had to walk through the McGarry's crowd to get to his car, and Din fought the urge to growl at every alpha they passed, fought the urge to hoist her up and carry her there, fought the urge to bend her over against the wall of the bar and fuck into her in front of all of them, to prove she was his.

Mine, mine, mine.

The smell of her was too much with the beast controlling far too much of his form, he just needed to get her home, safe, needed to get her home to her fucking fiancé who he also wanted to kill.

When they reached his car, she shivered as he opened the passenger's side door, and he frowned, letting go of her nape to tug his hoodie off over his head, holding it out to her, his body and the car door blocking her from anyone who might be passing behind them on the sidewalk.

"No, Din, it's okay, I—"

"Take it," he insisted, shaking the jacket, "please."

He wanted her to have it, wanted her to use it when she went home to nest, wanted his scent to be some comfort to her because he could not be, not with so much of the beast flooding his form.

Her cheeks flushed— pretty pink— and he watched as she tugged the giant thing on over her head. It fit like a dress, longer even than the dress she'd worn to dinner last week, the sleeves flooding over her hands, the hem hitting her knees.

Din's chest pinched at the sight.

Daisy buried her face into the collar of his hoodie when she got in his car, inhaling deeply, that woody, musky scent made the heat in her pelvis coil and burn. She watched him, through the windshield, over the edge of his sweatshirt she had her nose buried in, as he took a deep breath, passing his palm over the front of his face, his jaw twitching as he rested the weight of his body against the front of his car for a moment, the bulk of him shook the car, and she whimpered as her eyes carved over his wide shoulders, his thick torso, the strength bursting from his arms.

God, she wanted him, needed him.

She couldn't feel any of the guilt that should have been swirling in her gut, just pure, heavy, need.

He pushed himself off the front of the car after a moment, circling around to the driver's side and getting it, shoving his keys into the ignition and peeling onto the street.

He rolled down the windows, all of them, just as soon as he was in the car, his big hands strangling the steering wheel, tanned knuckles gone pale, his jaw taut and ticking.

"I'm sorry," she spat out, voice muffled into his sweatshirt.

He shook his head, a short, curt motion, but did not say anything.

Daisy's eyes flickered down, to her left hand— which was still holding the collar of his hoodie to her nose— to the small diamond ring on her finger, and her stomach rolled at the sight. She fought the urge to take it off, fling it out the open window.

It was only then, with the cold, Bay air flooding the space, and his body on the opposite side of the car, that she realized he'd shown up at the omega bar... without her ever giving him the location.

"How— how'd you find out which bar I was at?" she asked, dropping the collar of his hoodie from her hands.

His jaw ticked again, and he shook his head.

Din would not open his mouth to speak, because all of his focus, all of his restraint had to remain laser focused on not crashing his car, on not pulling over and tugging her straight onto his cock, which was fully erect now, snaking down the leg of his jeans, pressing painfully against the seam that ran down his inner thigh.

She smelled delicious, and the beast was pacing, howling, desperate to claim her, to drag her back to his house, fuck her through her heat, never let her leave.

"Sorry!" she spat out again, tugging the collar of his sweatshirt back over her nose. Whatever was left of him, whatever the beast hadn't consumed, ached at her apology.

"Don't. Say. Sorry," he ground out, the joints in his hands aching as he gripped the steering wheel even tighter, twisting his fists around it. This wasn't her fault, oh god, his sweet girl, not her fault that he was so disgusting, so out of control.

Daisy stared at him from her position in the passenger's seat— turned slightly toward him, the seat belt digging into the side of her neck— at how big his hands looked gripping the steering wheel, how wide the breadth of his shoulders were, then down, to his lap, to the thick length pressing against the leg of his jeans.

Her belly swooped, her pelvis going too tight, achingly tight, and she heard a whine involuntarily bubble out of her.

Din growled, his dark eyes shooting over to her before they blinked back to the road.

"Please," he spat out, "don't make that sound."

What other alpha would have even made it this far without claiming an omega in heat? An omega that might be his mate in heat?

He had the patience of a thousand men, the restraint of a god.

It only made her want him even more.

The drive to her house only took fifteen minutes, but to the both of them, it felt like hours. When he pulled over in front of her apartment building, he cut the engine, then took a breath that seemed to rattle his large ribs.

"You've got to get out, Daisy, I'm not going to be able to control myself if you stay in here another minute," he spat out, his words crowding in on each other, not like the precise way he normally spoke.

She trembled at his statement, her pelvis one big, tight knot, her cunt crying for him, an open wound dug out from between her legs.

"Din," she yelped his name, hoping he heard the need behind it, hoping he could read how desperately she needed him, wanted him, how she couldn't stop, how it felt like he lived in the marrow of her bones, how she never wanted to expel him even if it made her rotten and horrible and immoral.

His eyes snapped over to her, black eyes filled with hunger, a desperation so deep it felt like she might drown in it. Then, so fast— before she could even blink— he'd unbuckled his seatbelt, her seatbelt, and grabbed her waist, pulling her over the center console and into his lap

"Tell me to stop," he exhaled, his forehead resting on hers, his big hands engulfing her waist, his body so tense beneath her he felt like stone.

Her chest was heaving against the solid wall of his torso, her heart slamming against her ribs, his scent so thick in her nose she couldn't think straight. But even if she had full control— she knew— she wouldn't have told him to stop.

"Don't stop," she whispered, blinking up at him.

"Fuck," he growled, then his mouth crashed into hers, heated and violent, a clash of teeth and lips, his big hands pulling her even closer into him as he crowded her against the steering wheel, his body like a canopy over her, like a storm cloud, lighting and thunder and warmth and safety somehow rolled into one singular moment.

The juxtaposition was intoxicating.

She whimpered, keening into the hot cavern of his mouth and he growled at the sound, one of his hands leaving her waist to trail up her spine, the hot, heavy weight of it going up her neck, and into her hair, where he grabbed a fistful at the back of her head and tugged. The dull pain made her mouth pop open further and he used the invitation to lick into her mouth, his wide, firm tongue claiming her palate while his hips jerked underneath her, the thick length of his cock digging into her ass.

The sleeves of his too big sweatshirt pooled up on her wrists as she struggled to touch him, to touch all the parts of him she needed to— the wide, firm expanse of his chest, his broad shoulders, up the hot, thick column of his neck, into the curls on his head, the roots damp and warm when she dug her fingers into his scalp.

"Fuck, Daisy," he husked, completely at her mercy, at the beast's mercy, as he ate at her mouth, so sweet it verged on overindulgent. He'd never had anything so sweet, so perfect, so addicting he feared he would never stop.

She was made for him, it'd never been more clear than at that moment, while he had her wrapped up against him, her lips yielding to the force of his mouth, her little hands tugging at his hair, at the hinge of his jaw, her cunt like a fucking furnace on his lap, his cock so hard it felt like he might burst.

"Din," she trembled out his name, her chest heaving against his, the peaks of her breasts brushing against him at every inhale. And the sound of his name on her candied tongue, that singing, pleading voice, it was like a cleaver to his restraint— whatever was left of it, those broken, burnt threads— and his hips bucked beneath her, his cock throbbing as it rammed into her backside, a growl rumbling from his throat as he sucked her plump, bottom lip between his teeth, letting it spring free only to lick into her mouth.

"God, you're perfect," he groaned into her mouth and her tummy swooped low, her cunt fluttering on his lap. She could feel the fabric of her panties sticking to her, and she didn't know if she was just wet, or if she'd already fully started her heat. It was impossible to tell around him. He drew something out of her, something so deep and rooted, it felt like she'd never fully experienced the entirety of herself until he crashed into her life.

The windows were still open, but the air in the car was hot and thick, and Daisy felt dizzy, from the lack of oxygen, from him— who was also the only thing keeping her grounded, the solid, warm weight of him like a tether, keeping her from floating away.

"Baby," she heard Din grind out into her mouth, his body going taut again, his big hands moving back to her waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh there. "Baby, you have to go, you have to go."

Din forced himself to pull back, his chest heaving, his restraint a lifeless thing, a languid, flopping thing somewhere inside of him that he was desperately trying to stitch back together. She was going into heat, she wasn't in her right mind, and he would rather die than take advantage of that, of her, would rather die than slip into that base part of him, the beast's grip on him. He needed her to leave, because she was too soft, too sweet, too perfect, and he'd already taken too much.

But she was staring up at him, with those pupil-blown eyes, and a small frown tugging at the corners of her kiss-swollen lips, and her little fingers were twisted in the front of his t-shirt, and he couldn't help himself. He groaned, taking her lovely face in his hands and roughly parting his lips back over hers.

He kissed her hard, and breathless, then trailed his lips, his stubbled cheek across her face, down to her neck, where he buried his face into that soft, thin column and breathed, filling his lungs with as much of her scent as he could handle, then dragged his face along that sensitive gland.

Daisy whimpered, his mustache, his prominent nose, digging into that tender skin made desire boil in her lower belly, a low, crackling fire igniting there as he lifted his head and took the bowl of her skull in his palm, pressing her own face into his neck, letting her keen and nuzzle into that warm, thick column, her fingers digging into the worn, soft fabric of his t-shirt, into the firm skin beneath it.

He smelled so good, like wood and man and home and his touch was everywhere, trailing down her back, over her hips, her waist, up her neck and into her hair, and she was lost to it, lost to him and to the core of herself as she heard herself whimper into his neck.

"Need you, alpha, please..."

Din growled, the beast pacing in his gut at the sound of her plea, at the way she ground down onto his lap, his cock already threatening to burst, to come right there in his jeans beneath her keening form.

If she didn't leave now, he wouldn't be able to stop himself, stop the beast, and he knew he would never forgive himself for that.

"Daisy," he muttered her name through his teeth, trailing his hand up her back and gripping her nape, tugging her face away from his neck with the hold, "you have to go now."

"No, but— I need—" she started, her voice wet, those eyes so glazed she looked drunk.

"Daisy, now!" he growled, slipping entirely into the demanding tone of the beast, whatever was left of him coated with bitter, sloshing guilt as her head bowed and she scrambled to get the door open, nearly tumbling off his lap and out of the car.

He watched as she scrambled around the front of the car and onto the sidewalk, where she stood and stared at him through the window for a moment, drowning in his sweatshirt, her golden hair a chaotic halo around her head from his fingers, catching the light of the street lamps and seeming to glow.

He sat there, shaking, his hands strangling the steering wheel, her scent still cloying the inside of his car, his nose.

He didn't drive away until she finally turned and went inside the building, his chest breaking open and screaming as the distance between them stretched, as he struggled not to turn around at every block that carried him further away from her.

His mate, his mate, his mate.

The words echoed in his head, like a demented mantra, and no matter how hard he tried he could not drown them out.