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"You want to ride your heat out there?" I grit.
"I can't go to a clinic."
I should ask if she has someone else to call, another alpha. It's the right thing to do, but I cannot for the life of me bring myself to say the words.
"You have someone waiting for you? In the apartment?" I ask, holding my breath, waiting for the answer.
"No. There's no one there."
Relief cascades through me, but we still have a problem. "You want to go there and ride your heat out alone?" Even with scent-blockers, an omega in heat is desperate and she could do something she'd regret if left to her own devices, especially some place public like a large apartment building. That's why some omegas will have someone they trust take them to a safe-house or a cabin up in the mountains, so there's nowhere to run. Toys might get the job done, but it's still, supposedly, an extremely painful experience to go through a heat without an alpha. The idea of Imogen in any pain is unacceptable.
"Unless… unless you took me home? To your home? To be with you, and…" There's so much vulnerability in the ask, her sweet voice thin with worry.
The heat clinic, for whatever reason, is out. So she's alone or with me, my pack. At first, I think it's an impossible choice. But, in a brief moment of clarity, be it my alpha's urging or Imogen's frank admission that she wants me, I realize, there's really only no choice at all.
Red is going to be furious. Iggy even more so, especially after his display earlier tonight. He saw some guy's hand on Imogen's waist—which really isn't all that shocking or unheard of at a strip club; it's a general rule not to touch the employees, but sometimes they get hit on, and if the dancer says no or hands off, we step in. Iggy beat himself up for an hour for getting violent in front of Imogen.
"You want to come home with me? Share your heat with me and my pack?" I clarify.
Her pupils dilate, and she nods her head up and down enthusiastically. It's intoxicating. No fake, small smiles, no rigid posture. Just Imogen in need.
My slight acceptance was all she needed because she's climbing back into my lap, this time her hands go to my belt.
I capture them and hold her back, pulling us both up to a stand. She growls at me, and it's really fucking cute. Reaching down, she grabs Red's jacket and, still wearing Iggy's motorcycle gloves, she brings both to her face, closes her eyes and breathes in their scents.
I've seen lovers do something similar, but this, the way she can think more clearly, is seemingly more calm, pricks at an errant thought, my alpha urging me to pay attention.
But I dismiss it because my phone rings again. I ignore it, though it prompts me to ask her, one more time, "Are you absolutely sure, Imogen? I've never… we've never had an omega… And you work for us. You see what I'm saying? I don't want you to feel taken advantage of. If there's anywhere I can bring you, anywhere you'd rather be—"
"You don't want me?" She cries, pained by the question, looking up at me, several inches shorter now that she's not wearing those towering heels. She's a vision.
"I want you," my alpha and I growl together.
Her knees wobble, and I catch her by the waist. "Then take me home, alpha."
I groan, gripping her hand and pulling her out of the office with a sudden, furious sense of urgency. I can barely walk with the strain of my cock in my jeans. "You need anything?" I somehow ask. I've never been so close to rut before.
"My bag," she says, but I have to urge her forward because we're losing time and she keeps trying to stop us and climb me like a tree. I help her track down her things, try to pull a pair of pants on her, but she pushes against them, claiming she's too hot and the material isn't right, refusing to wear them. She doesn't want to put on her heels, either, and damn if I'd do anything for this woman, because I don't even think about it, I pick her up and carry her through the club, to the truck, her bare legs and feet dangling over my arms.
"How much time do we have?" I ask once we're secure and on the road.
"None. I need you to fuck me. So bad," she pleads, hands pawing at my belt buckle. She's taken off her seat belt so she could crawl onto me, and I have to pull over and put it back on.
"Imogen, I promise, we'll be there soon. I will take care of you. I'll make you feel so fucking good. Just hold on a little while longer for me, okay?"
"Please hurry," she begs, and while charged with sexual need, I can hear the edge of pain in her voice.
"I'll hurry. Just hang on." My swallow is audible when she slips her fingers inside her underwear, the jerky movement beneath the waistband unsatisfying for us both judging by the sounds she's making, but it's distracting her, so I step on it, getting us the fuck off the road as fast as humanly possible.
I debate calling Red back, but it'll just take more time, and he's in for a surprise in a few minutes, anyway. Grateful the streets are empty, I haul ass back to the warehouse, nearly as delirious as the begging omega in heat beside me. The cab feels like it's on fire, and again, I'm faced with the harsh realization that I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. Aside from the club and Ophelia, I don't know any omegas. I've never been with one, definitely never ridden out a heat. The only one of us that might know what to do is Iggy, though the reason for that is the very reason he's going to be furious I show up with Imogen.
I turn on the A/C, cranking the air and pointing the vents toward her. It seems like the right choice since she settles a bit, her breathing slowing to less of a pant. I pull up to the warehouse a few minutes later and not a moment too soon.
Rushing out of the truck, I hurry to her side, take off her seat belt and pull her into my arms. She looks ridiculous with all our clothes on her, but I still want to kiss her for wearing them. I almost do, but then we'd never make it upstairs.
Wrapping her legs around my waist, I carry her upstairs through the garage, trying to ignore the way she grinds against me. She's pretty much gone, and there's no turning back. I don't feel any regret, even when I enter the kitchen and find a shocked Red staring at me at the table with a coffee cup in hand. Good. He's gonna need the caffeine.
His mouth drops open and I don't even respond, just haul ass to my bedroom, kicking off my shoes along the way. Imogen's nails, long and sharp, dig into my skin, and when I set her down, I don't have to worry about holding her up. It's amazing, she's completely gone to the outside world yet hyper focused on getting what she needs. Clothes come off in a frenzy, and just when I throw her onto the bed, I hear Red behind me.
