Chapter 8: This Is A Mistake

"What the hell do you think you’re doing?"

Bael’s voice, cold and angry.

I turn slowly, gripping the counter for balance.

He’s standing just inside the door, and he looks... furious, his jaw is tight, his eyes are cold fire, and there’s something dangerous in the way he’s looking at me.

"Using the bathroom," I say, and my words slur slightly. "That allowed?"

"You’re drunk."

"Very observant." I turn back to the mirror, trying to ignore him. "Shouldn’t you be out there with your fiance?"

"Shouldn’t you be out there not making a spectacle of yourself?"

I laugh, it comes out bitter. "A spectacle? I’ve been standing in the corner all night trying to disappear, but sure, I’m the problem."

"You’ve had six glasses of champagne in forty minutes."

"You were counting?" I turn to face him again. "Creepy."

His jaw clenches. "You’re drawing attention."

"To what? The wayward omega son drinking too much at his sister’s engagement party? How scandalous." I lean back against the counter. "Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone you’re a cheating bastard. We have an understanding, remember?"

Something flashes in his eyes.

He crosses the distance between us in four strides and I don’t have time to react before he’s crowding into my space, one hand braced on the counter on either side of me, caging me in.

"Watch your mouth, omega."

"Or what?" The alcohol makes me reckless. "You’ll destroy me? You already threatened that, get some new material."

"You don’t know what you’re doing."

"I know exactly what I’m doing." I meet his eyes, defiant. "I’m watching you play devoted fiance to my sister while remembering exactly what you look like when you’re knotting someone else. It’s fascinating, really. You’re very good at lying."

His hand moves to my throat, not squeezing, just... there. A warning.

"You think you’re clever?" His voice drops lower. "You show up here, get drunk, stumble away from the party? What’s your plan, Runze? Find another alpha? See if you can fuck your way through the entire guest list?"

The accusation is so absurd it takes me a second to process.

"Are you insane?"

"Am I?" His thumb traces along my jaw. "You seduced me three days before my engagement, why should I believe you won’t do it again?"

"I didn’t seduce you, you..." I try to push him away but he doesn’t budge. "You followed me here, you’re the one who can’t seem to stay away."

"Because you’re a liability."

"Then leave."

"I should."

But he doesn’t move.

We’re so close I can feel the heat of him, smell his scent mixing with the champagne haze in my head. My body is responding despite everything, despite the anger, despite the situation.

Traitor.

"You’re drunk," he says again, but his voice has changed. Rougher. "You smell like..."

He doesn’t finish, but I know what he means.

Omega pheromones, distressed ones, probably, mixed with alcohol and whatever my body is doing in response to having an alpha this close.

"Then leave," I say again.

His eyes drop to my mouth.

And I know, with horrible certainty, that he’s not going to leave.

"This is a mistake," he says.

"Yeah."

"Someone could walk in."

"Your fiance is outside."

"I know."

"Then what are you..." But I don’t finish because he’s kissing me.

It’s not gentle, it’s angry, possessive, his hand tightening on my throat as his mouth crashes into mine. I should push him away, I should bite him, knee him, do literally anything other than kiss him back.

But I do.

I kiss him back with all the anger and confusion and want I’ve been holding in for three days, my hands fisting in his jacket, pulling him closer even as my brain is screaming at me to stop.

His other hand grips my hip, lifting me slightly, pushing me back against the marble counter. The kiss deepens, turns desperate, his tongue in my mouth tasting like whiskey and bad decisions.

I’m going to hell.

We’re both going to hell.

He breaks the kiss, breathing hard, his forehead pressed against mine.

"Tell me to stop."

"No."

"Runze..."

"I said no."

Something in him snaps.

He spins me around roughly, pushing me forward until I’m bent over the counter, my hands braced against the marble. I hear his belt, the sound of a zipper, and my body is already responding, slick starting to gather despite everything.

"This is the last time," he says, and it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.

"Sure it is."

His hand comes down on my ass, not hard enough to really hurt but enough to make me gasp.

"Mouthy omega."

He yanks my pants down, not bothering with careful, and the cool air hits my skin. Then his hand is between my legs, fingers sliding through slick, and he makes a sound low in his throat.

"Already so wet for me, your body knows what it wants even if you don’t."

"Shut up and fuck me."

"So impatient."

But he doesn’t make me wait, he lines himself up and pushes in with one brutal thrust that has me biting down on my lip to keep from crying out.

It’s too much, too fast, the stretch and burn mixing with pleasure in ways that make my brain short-circuit. My body accepts him eagerly, slick easing the way, and when he bottoms out I can feel him everywhere.

"Fuck," he breathes against my neck.

He doesn’t give me time to adjust, just starts moving, hard and fast and angry, the counter digs into my hips with every thrust but I don’t care, I’m pushing back against him, meeting him stroke for stroke, chasing the pleasure despite knowing how wrong this is.

His hand wraps around my cock, stroking in time with his thrusts, and I have to bite down harder on my lip to keep quiet.

"That’s it," he murmurs. "Take it, take my cock like a good omega."

I hate how much those words affect me, how my body clenches around him, how close I already am.

"I hate you," I manage.

"I know." He drives in deeper, hitting that spot inside me that makes me see stars. "You can hate me and still cum on my cock."

His hand speeds up, his thrusts get harder, more erratic, and I can feel it building, that pressure coiling tighter and tighter until...

I cum with a broken sound I barely manage to muffle against my arm, my whole body tensing, clenching around him, he curses and thrusts harder, chasing his own release, and I feel the moment he loses control, feel the knot starting to swell.

"No," I gasp. "Not again, we can’t..."

But it’s too late, the knot swells and catches, locking us together, and he comes with a groan he muffles against my shoulder, filling me with heat.

We’re stuck.

In a bathroom.

At his engagement party.

"Fuck," I breathe.

"Yeah."

For a moment we just stand there, breathing hard, the reality of what we just did crashing down.

Then we hear it.

Voices in the hallway outside.

"...hasn’t come back yet. Should I check on him?"

Feifei.

My blood runs cold.

"I’m sure he’s fine, dear." Mother’s voice. "Probably just needed some air, you know how he gets at these events."

"But he looked so pale, what if he’s sick?"

Footsteps approaching the bathroom door.

Bael’s hand clamps over my mouth before I can make a sound.

We’re still knotted, still locked together, and if anyone walks in they’ll see... everything.

A knock on the door.