Omega On A Mission E-Book

N.J. Lysk

• Herausgeber: N.J. Lysk
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Omegas are carers, not fighters, and Gabi is happy looking after his alpha. But when he comes across an animal in danger, his protective instincts flare up and nobody wants to get in the way of an omega on a mission.

An adventure story featuring an omega werewolf playing reluctant hero and the alpha who loves him.

This story includes very explicit scenes between two male characters, as well as mentions of knotting and mpreg.

Leseprobe

Omega on a Mission

N.J. Lysk

Copyright 2016 N.J. Lysk

All rights reserved.

[Adult Reading Material]

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Omega On A Mission

The Stars of the Pack:

Werewolves of Windermere:

Standalones:

Rules to Break:

Sign up for N.J. Lysk's Mailing List

Also By N.J. Lysk

Omega on a Mission

I just wanted a last kiss. One more and it’d be enough. Liam obliged, pressing me against the kitchen wall and taking my mouth with his. His tongue was hot and powerful, searing, invading. Just like I wanted it. Just like always, my body flamed up like it had infinite energy to burn. We had fucked in bed when I had woken him up for breakfast, and then again in the shower, his skin slick under my hands and my legs tight around his waist as he pounded into me like he wanted to fuse us together. But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough; we were meant to be one, not two. Sex was how we made do with the sheer injustice of bodily separation.

“I’m... late,” Liam wheezed against my throat. He was dressed now, which meant he was creasing the impeccable suit I had set out for him to wear to work by pressing his full body against my bathrobe-covered one. His pupils were so dilated the blue irises I loved were almost invisible, and his cheeks were flushed bright red on his snow pale skin. He looked wrecked, and he was hard again. For me. The thought made it almost impossible to pull back, but we were adults, we had to.

I panted. “Later?” I asked, and had to close my eyes before I could make myself shove him back hard enough to make him stumble a couple steps. It was often the only way we could manage to tear ourselves apart, and Liam didn’t like pushing me, always a little afraid his bulk would overwhelm my lesser weight. It was sweet that he worried, even if I was strong enough to punch through a wall and he'd have had to seriously try to hurt me.

“Right,” Liam said, sounding a little farther still. Good, I thought, he had managed to step back. I opened my eyes. He still looked good enough to lick breakfast right off his skin. The blue jacket emphasized the firm musculature of his arms and torso and I could just see the peak of a nipple through his white dress shirt where the jacket was hanging off his left shoulder.

Breakfast, I remembered then. Which we hadn’t really eaten. “Just give me a sec,” I asked, and ran to the kitchen for a brown paper bag to stuff some food into. By the time I got back he had combed himself back into a respectable businessman. His dark hair shone and his blue eyes looked like flint, dangerous and sharp. He was breath-taking. And he was mine. My Alpha.

I knew I was grinning like a fool when I passed him the bag, but who cared? Liam frowned at it. “I told you about the lunch, right?” he asked me worriedly, as if I would forget to check his schedule online even if he hadn’t.

“This is breakfast,” I explained. “I was pretty sure you’d choose sex over food.”

Liam laughed, a full unrepressed peal of joy that seemed to set the air twinkling like bells and make the sun shine brighter all at once. It was ridiculous. I was being ridiculous. In Liverpool at six in the morning there was no sunlight and the birds were still asleep, just like I should be. But I just kept smiling, I could do nothing else when I was with him and he was happy. I was made to make him happy.

***

I HAD USED SEPARATE pans for the eggs and the bacon so that took some scrubbing. And then I even sat down and had breakfast like a civilized person instead of eating while I worked. Then changing the sheets also took a while, but even so by the time ten thirty rolled around I was at loose ends. The house looked sparkling again and my only appointments for the day were to attend cooking lessons at the local college. In the afternoon.

I could have cooked myself a three course meal for lunch, sure, but it felt wasteful. I loved eating but even with my fast metabolism I didn’t enjoy eating to bursting at every meal. Sometimes a guy just wants a salad, you know? And it wasn’t just that. For me cooking was about love, about showing someone I cared for them in the most fundamental of ways, that their pure physical pleasure made me happy. It was a way of ensuring they were well fed and could flourish. It was also about getting that love recognized in the form of praise, even if I had burned something because my guest of honour had come home early and kissed me a little too enthusiastically against the fridge.