VEGAS

XXIII: no saint, no savior

I had all, and then most of you, some, and now none of you.

Note:

Hello! I'm super excited for the rest of the story! I'm trying to finish it this year, but I can't really envision exactly how many chapters it will take.

Anyway happy reading!

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Pete woke up with a strange feeling in the pits of his belly, one that refused to leave him ever since the King arrived. It was a deep, and intense sensation that left him feeling unsatisfied no matter what he did. He wanted to fill that void, smell as much of Vegas's pheromones as possible. Desperation simmered beneath his skin. Just the sight of the sleeping Alpha beside him was enough to cause Pete's instincts to flare, urging him to climb on top of Vegas, to satisfy himself until the Alpha woke up.

What are you thinking? Pete scolded himself as he stood, slapping both of his palms to his cheeks. The pain provided the focus he needed to clear his thoughts. How can he think that way? Has he completely lost his mind?

Pete was then pulled out of his thoughts by a deep, guttural groan that echoed through the room. As he reached down to pick up his tunic from the floor, he glanced up to see Vegas sitting on the edge of the bed, completely naked. Pete's eyes widened slightly, taken aback by the sight before him.

He's not helping. Pete sighed, lost at the sight of the Alpha beside him. Sharp eyes and broad shoulders, his heart pounded loudly as he darted his eyes back to the floor.

"Hey." Pete muttered; his voice small. He could feel the intense gaze of the Alpha on him as he pulled his shirt over his body, followed by his trousers. Pitch-black crimson eyes already creating a noticeable heat that pooled in that emptiness in his belly. As if the King's gaze was lighting fire wherever it landed. Wandering over Pete's body, over every curve, every mark and tense muscle. It lingered as heavy as physical touch – a memory imprinted on Pete's skin. Demanding to be felt.

"Where are you going?" Vegas stood rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he collected his scattered clothing from the floor. The air around the room seemed to buzz with his presence. Pete could feel it crawling up his arms and back like the charged particles of a stormy night. As if he was more aware of the Dominant Alpha more than he was aware of him before. As if the blood in his veins sang at the sight of him.

Pete's hand unconsciously reached for the mark left on his neck.

Is this what a bond does? Pete wondered as flashbacks from the previous night appeared fresh in his mind. The remnants of the Alpha's claim still dripped on Pete's thighs no matter how many times he had wiped it away, the traces of Vegas's control over him remained intact.

"I need to feed Sila," Pete explained with an awkward stride on his way to the doorway. He hoped that the soldiers had some excess food for the white beast. The wolf was probably hungry by now, as he couldn't hunt earlier.

Pete took note to apologize to his wolf once he fed her.

But as Pete was about to reach the doorway, Vegas effortlessly invaded Pete's space as if it belonged to him. Maybe it did. Firm hands pulled him by the wrist and just that small contact was enough to make Pete feel like he was running out of air. Pete inhaled, though it made him drunk with the intensity of the Alpha's pheromones that invaded his throat. The scent was bewitching.

Vegas raised his hand. The beads from the bracelet Pete had made sparkled by the fresh rays of the sun while the Alpha King cradled the Omega's jaw. Pete wasn't sure if it was him who moved his own head or if it was the King who did it, but Pete bared his neck, offering a better view of the bite mark of his Alpha. The sign that Pete was entirely his from that point forward. It made Pete's whole-body tingle.