The Alpha's Addiction [BXB]

Chapter 43: Fool

I wake up to the feeling of pleasurable pressure in my lower torso. I moan, pushing back into it as I blink the sleep from my eyes. A squelch greets my ears as I do so, the events of the past 12 hours returning to me in a rush. My heat. Cyrus fucking me six ways to Sunday. On every damn surface in this room. His knot filling me, pumping me full of cum that was never enough, that I'd beg for more of.

My face feels like it will explode from shame. Especially since at this moment, Cyrus's cock sits inside me. We must have finally passed out with exhaustion, mid-knotting. The swelled base of his cock has gone down by now, leaving only his hot, semi-hard length buried in my core as he slumbers on.

I wiggle my hips, easing him out gently so as not to wake him up. He finally exits me in a lewd, wet pop and I bite my lip at the stream of hot semen that leaks out along with it.

I'll blame it on my omega instincts, but I'm sad to feel it go. My wolf whines at losing our alphas essence he so generously gave to us. With a sigh, I keep my legs clasped tightly together in an effort to stop any more from escaping as I waddle my way to the dresser. There are claw marks dug into the wood now, courtesy of me being fucked out of my mind against it. I make a note to deep clean the room later today.

I pull out a pair of fresh panties and stuff them up my hole to keep me plugged. It feels so goddamn dirty... but right. I want to keep him inside me. I want to imagine it will plant life into my womb, despite the fact that I'm infertile. I know one heat can't change that. I feel silly for hoping, but I can't help myself.

I hum as I make my way back to the bed, the adrenaline rush provided by my wolf's urgency not to lose Cyrus's cum is fading, and the soreness is setting in. No doubt I've got hickeys all over, and I spot light hand-shaped bruises imprinted on my waist that he used as leverage to fuck me down on his cock.

I don't regard these markings in disgust or cringe at the way my insides smart when I move. Even when Cyrus is rough, he's never violent. He's so gentle with me, even when I don't deserve it. He had the right to press my face into a pillow and take his pleasure without bothering with mine, and yet he didn't. He held me like I mattered. Even though I've been the biggest bitch on the planet to him.

I didn't know alphas could be like that until him. That they don't always make you bleed through your sheets after sex. That they are capable of getting you wet before they enter you so it doesn't hurt like all hell. I can't say the same for those alphas back in the Blood Pack.

They'd throw me this way and that, not caring if my head smashed against a wall or my knees busted in the dirt. My stomach turns as a particularly foul memory slips through my post-heat high. How they once cornered me in the wine cellar and I tried to make a run for it, only for them to catch and drag me back in. A crate of wine tipped in the process, sending shattered glass mixed with the alcohol in a spray across the floor. They pushed me to that floor, my back lacerated by those pieces of razor sharp glass as some alpha I didn't know rutted into me like a wild animal—

My wolf yowls at me to stop. To stop reliving those horrid things. I take down an anxious gulp of air, shaking my head as if to shoo the memory away. Pretend it never happened. That's all you have to do, Koa. Suck it up. Stay strong like you've always done.

Maybe there's a chance at happiness, now. If I can leave it all behind me. I don't know. I sigh, looking to where Cyrus lays with his eyes closed, breathing steady with sleep. Goddess, he still looks so exhausted. Has getting rest been as hard for him as it's been for me since we parted ways? I selfish part of me hopes so...

I still haven't forgiven him for letting Beau train, but then again he has a while bunch of other things he probably doesn't forgive me for. Or maybe he isn't a petty thing like me. He's only three years older, but what seems like lifetimes more mature. My Cyrus.

We've got a lot to talk about. But if there's the slightest chance he's still willing to make this work, I want to sort out this mess first. Together. I can't be honest about everything... but I don't want to be apart from him now. I don't know why I've been so stubborn, but I also don't know if this is the right choice either. I could be spoiling his future... his reputation.

I stand up from the bed, heading for the closet with determination. First, breakfast. Then, everything else.

I leave a little note for Cyrus that I'll be right back with some food from the dining hall, just in case he wakes up in the meantime.

*

When I come back to the room, I'm surprised to find the door is unlocked. My brows furrow. Is he awake already? But when I step into the room, I find the bed empty. There are traces of his scent, but that's it. He left.

I set the tray full of food on the desk, attempting to stay positive. Maybe he went looking for me. Maybe he needed to fetch something or notify Xavier about some Pack matter.

And so I wait there. I wait on that bed, listening for any footstep or sign of life outside the door that signifies his arrival. I watch as the steam from the food dies down, leaving the eggs and bacon soggy and untouched on the plates. When I finally look to the clock, hours have passed.

He's not coming back.

I tell myself Cyrus wouldn't do this. He wouldn't abandon me after taking my heat. An omega's first heat with their fated alpha is something to be celebrated, cherished, savored. The most vulnerable state of my being, shared with him utterly and completely. And I gave it to him willingly.

Gave it to him like a fool.

Because the next day, and the day after that, I hear nothing from him. He doesn't even bother looking my way when I spot him out and about. No explanation. No reaching out.

Like it was nothing to him.

Like I was nothing to him.

I can only bow my head in humiliation when I see him now, which is rare but painful enough that I die a little inside each time it happens. Sometimes I want to run to him, ask him why he left me that day, but instead I force myself to swallow down the shame. Being desperate will only make it hurt more. Will only bother and remind him how right he was to cut contact with me.

How stupid was I, to believe it meant something to him? How stupid was I to expect anything after the way I broke his heart?

He dealt with my heat, and that was it. In hindsight, I really should have known. He finally realized I'm not worth it. I was a good fuck, and now he can move on to bigger and better things.

It's fine that he ignores me completely now. That he acts like I don't exist. It's fine. I deserve it. I'll live out my days with Oliver, just the two of us like originally planned.

But as I kneel over the toilet weeks later, vomiting up the little lunch I could eat, I begin to fear the worst.

*

Author note: Oh boy, things are really going to pick up these next few chappies. I'm so excited, and would love to hear your thoughts!! >,<