Page 5 of His Beast

“Hi.”

“For your information,” I begin, ignoring his greeting. “Spicy romance is a very popular genre, and I’m sorry you have been sheltered up until now. But I am happy to know that what I write turns you on.”

It takes Zayn a moment to register what I’m talking about, but once it clicks, his cheeks turn a beautiful shade of rosy pink, and he digs around in the bag beside him, pulling out a set of headphones and connecting them to his phone. I can’t help but grin at him out of amusement, curious if anyone is nearby, which brings his location back to me.

“Are you at work?”

“Yea. My next fight is in about twenty minutes. Once Jake gets done, then I go on.”

“Are they giving you any trouble? You mentioned they bought you the ticket to the ball as a joke.”

Zayn shakes his head, his eyes dancing around the room as if looking for someone that I can’t see from the phone screen. “No. They were only curious if I even went. I haven’t said anything to them about that night or about you. I’m not trying to hide you or anything I just—”

“Hey, hey, hey! Shhhh.” I try to soothe his panicked rambling through the phone. “Are you worried that I’ll take back my claim on you?”

Zayn shyly nods, reminding me of his insecurities and our age differences. I admit that the night after the party and getting his contact information, I did an internet search on him and learned he is twenty-five, making him five years younger than me. But his insecurities make him appear younger. It’s almost as if he was waiting for me to admit that I was in on the joke the other fighters in the locker room had set up. I had also found out that Zayn’s job is at an illegal fight ring that boldly advertises his designation and it doesn’t surprise me that the law looks the other way, seeing as his employer, Markus Capri, can easily afford to pay off anyone who comes snooping around.

“Is that why you seemed disappointed at the Night of Scarlet? I told you that I wasn’t with Alec, but did you like his scent too? Are you disappointed that we’re not together?”

Zayn immediately shakes his head quickly, making me dizzy just by watching. “No. You smell like spiced honey, he smelled like black currant. While I didn’t hate it, it just felt slightly off, tickled my brain oddly. I like your scent. Warm and comforting, inviting. For some reason, you see something in me that I don’t, enough to choose me and enough to still be here almost two weeks later. I don’t think I’m worthy enough to court one Omega, let alone two, and I didn’t think I stood a chance with you. But it’s easier to be rejected by one person instead of two.”

Mulling over his words, I take in his words. Someone has twisted his way of thinking, forcing him to believe that he is nothing more than his designation. That the scars on his face mean that he isn’t worthy of love, that he’s some hideous creature to be locked away and never experience life. It’s nothing more than a lie. He is worthy, and in my eyes, worthier than anyone else. And I make it my vow to fix whatever someone else broke.

A sound off camera startles Zayn and his eyes snap forward as he converses with someone I can’t see. He nods and the expression on his face changes, wiped clean of any emotion. He looks back down at the screen and gives me a sad wave before disconnecting without another word. I guess that means it is his turn to fight, and I feel my heart drop into the pit of my stomach. I showed him the same respect for his profession as he showed me, we don’t have the right to tell the other person to quit what they do to earn a living, but I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t bother me. I don’t like the idea that he had the potential to get hurt.

Rubbing at the ache in my chest, I climb out of my nest and refill my steel tumbler with ice water before sitting back at my desk, hoping edits will provide a distraction. No sooner have I set my phone on the desk does it light up, vibrating across the wood. Picking it up, I grin, chuckling softly.

Zayn

For the record, I love your writing.

Zayn

“What the fuck was that out there?”

Markus is furious with me, and he has every right to be. We lost a lot of money tonight, and there was no doubt in my mind is Markus going to add it to my contract, expecting to be paid back what he owed. Markus is an Alpha, so he knows better than to throw a punch at me since I’m stronger and I can easily kill him before it even lands. However, It doesn’t mean I’m exempt from punishment. Truth be told, my head just wasn’t in the fight. I was distracted by a certain Omega I last saw laying in his nest. An Omega’s nest is the most private of places, and I was shocked that he so casually shared it with me, giving me a full view of where he felt safest. From what I saw, it looks beautiful.

I wished he were in the crowd, cheering me on and waiting to celebrate my win. He would scream his claim over me at the top of his lungs before I took him to bed, where his voice would grow hoarse from screaming my name. The scenes in his book are enough to make me blush, my cock thickening and straining against my pants, eager to participate in the fictitious scenes he wrote about. I can’t help the thoughts as I pleasure myself to his words. Is he as soft as he looks? Would goose bumps follow my touch as I trace my fingers over his slight curves? Would my fingers catch in his curls as I run my fingers through them? Would he accept my body easily? Would he taste as sweet as his scent? What did he sound like when pleasured? What sound did he make when he came? How many people have heard that song? It was the first time I have ever thought about someone in such a way.

I wonder if Quinn has done the things he describes in his book, using past partners for research for the things he writes about. A tidal wave of jealousy consumes me, drowning out Markus’ rant as he lectures me. I have no right to be jealous. Whoever it was that came before me doesn’t matter, I’m here now, but I lack experience. If Quinn has done any of the things he writes about, would he be satisfied with someone who doesn’t know what they were doing? Would he know if I copied what I read?

“Zayn!”

Markus reaches forward to grab my chin, forcing my gaze to snap to his, his red face inches from mine.

“Pull your fucking head out of your ass and focus! If I thought allowing you to get your dick wet at that stupid event would distract you, I never would’ve let you go.”

“Allow me?” I blink slowly, processing his words.

“You think you get to do anything without my permission? I knew what the others were doing and I could’ve stopped it and you never would’ve known. You should be thanking me; instead, you pull this shit and cost us money! If this pity fuck is an interference, it can easily be dealt with.”

A mixture of fear and anger surges in my gut while a low rumble starts in my throat. Markus doesn’t flinch at my glare, instead he smirks, pulling away and dropping his hand.

“Use that to fuel your next fight. There is a championship happening in the city in a few weeks, make it up to me. Win it, and I will consider a fourth of your debt paid. Don’t let some breeder distract you.”

Instantly, I jump to my feet, my hands curling into fists at my side, my low rumble growing louder while my body vibrates with its intensity. Or anger, I can’t exactly tell which. But Markus ignores me, leaving me alone in the empty locker room with a wave, his smirk still planted on his face. Without anything to take my rising anger out on, I kick my foot forward, knocking over the shitty bench. Picking up the plywood, I swing it to my left, hitting the milk crates and splintering the wood while a roar tears from my throat. I hadn’t meant to lose, but I couldn’t deny that my brain was elsewhere. Quinn has already changed everything for me in such a short time that for the first time, I decided that I don’t want this life any more. I want to wrap myself around my Omega, breathe in his sweet honey scent. I want to start my life over, claim him as mine, and maybe start a family. My brain latching onto the last idea as images of him swollen with our child and I can’t suppress a soft groan as I reach down to readjust my thickening cock.

Instantly, lust and desire replace the anger, dulling the flame, but a different emotion mixes its way into my thoughts. Longing. I can’t ignore the fact that I am completely, and utterly, obsessed with the first person who gave me the time of day, and that it’s a problem. It isn’t normal, but I knew from the moment he walked away from my table that night that I wanted him to be mine. He chose me, out of everyone in that room, he chose me. For the first time in my life I might have an opportunity past the ring, and I don’t want to fuck it up.