Chapter 5 AFTER THE HEAT, THE HURT
Sebastian’s Pov
The sound of the deep breath I gulped down as I walked in was swallowed by my boots scuffing against the floor. Ragnar’s head snapped up, and his eyes locked onto mine. The glare he gave me was like a punch to the gut, cold and sharp, like he could burn me to ash just by looking at me. I froze again, my stomach twisting into knots.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Ragnar growled, his voice low and dangerous. He didn’t bother covering himself, as he sat there, staring me down like I was prey.
And I was.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out at first. My mind was racing, my heart pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it.
I had to say something, anything, to keep him from throwing me out— or worse. “I… I can help you,” I blurted out, my voice shaking. “I can… make you feel good.”
Ragnar’s eyes narrowed, and for a second, I thought he was going to lunge at me. Then, to my shock, he laughed— a short, harsh sound that made my face burn. “You’ve got some nerve, kid,” he said, leaning back on his hands. “Walking in here, interrupting me, and now you’re offering what? To get me off? Get out.”
I swallowed hard, my knees trembling. I was scared out of my mind, but I couldn’t back down now. If I did, I’d never get this close to him again. “I can do it,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. “I can satisfy you. Better than you’re doing it yourself.”
My face was on fire, but I held his gaze, praying he couldn’t see how terrified I was.
Ragnar raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting from anger to something else, amusement, maybe, or curiosity. “Is that so?” he said deadpan, his voice dripping with skepticism. “You think you can impress me, Omega?
I stood still as I could and nodded.
It took a while nerve-wracking moment for him to speak again. “Fine. Go ahead. But if you’re wasting my time, if you don’t deliver what you just promised…” his face shuttered, “I’ll have you know I don’t take kindly to disappointments.”
My heart was racing, but I nodded, my hands shaking as I stepped closer to the bed. But beneath all that, excitement was blooming in my chest. I couldn't believe my gamble had paid off. “I won’t disappoint you,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Inside, I was screaming. What the hell? This was insane! Years of obsessing over Ragnar, of dreaming about him, of wanting him— it all came down to this moment. And I wasn’t going to mess it up.
I knelt in front of him, my hands trembling as I reached for him. Ragnar watched me, his eyes sharp and unreadable, like he was waiting for the first moment to take back his offer.
I took a deep breath and leaned in, my lips brushing against him. The feel of him went straight to my cock and I exhaled around him. He was warm, hard, and the moment I’d started, I heard his breath hitch.
Gods.
I didn’t think— I just moved, my hands and mouth working together, years of pent-up desire pouring out of me. I wanted to make him feel good, to prove I wasn’t just some useless omega, even if it was through this way.
I wanted him to see me.
“Fuck,” Ragnar muttered, his voice low and rough. His hand found the back of my head, not pushing, just resting there, like he was anchoring himself. I kept going, my tongue and hands moving faster, more confident now.
Every sound he made, every low groan, every sharp intake of breath, sent a thrill through me. I was doing this. I was making him feel this way. Me.
For the first time, I wasn’t just a nobody staring at him from afar. I was here, with him, and it was better than any dream I’d ever had.
I lost track of time, my focus narrowing to the feel of him, the taste of him, the way his body tensed under my touch. When he finally groaned, loud and deep, his hands fisting my hair, I knew I’d done it. I’d given him exactly what I promised.
I pulled back, my face burning, my heart pounding so hard I could barely breathe. I was pressing hard against my pants but that didn’t matter. I looked up at him, hoping, praying, he’d say something, anything, to show he was impressed.
But Ragnar was acting… weird. His jaw was tight, his eyes distant, like he was somewhere else. He shifted on the bed, running a hand through his hair, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything.
I wiped my mouth, suddenly unsure. “Are you okay, Alpha?” I asked, my voice small. “Did I… did I do something wrong?”
He looked at me then, his eyes sharp again, but there was something else there, something I couldn’t read. “Are you seeing someone. Mated, perhaps?” he asked, his voice low and even.
Oh.
It was as if he'd activated Alisander. He howled in my head, the tug in my chest almost painful now. And for the first time in years, he deemed it important enough to talk, his voice gruff rasp shaking with excitement.
“Mate.”
If I wasn't already on the floor, I would have dropped down flat. It was as if someone kicked my feet out from underneath me. My hands flooded with a nervous sweat and I was glad I’d finished using them. All I could do was stare, my mind echoing that word over and over again.
What? It wasn't possible.
I wasn’t excited, I couldn't be. I was confused. It was one thing to hope and pray but this was something else entirely.
How could this be real? An omega like me, actually paired with Alpha Ragnar? Alisander had to have made a mistake.
“Are you sure?” I asked back.
Alisander whimpered softly, sensing my panic. “You feel it, Sebastian,” he said. “He’s ours.”
And I did. I felt it now, clearly, as if it had always been there. But I couldn't let myself believe. It was because of what I just did, thrown right into the heady mix of my obsession that making me feel this way.
Omegas were weaker in every aspect, including in being able to identify their matebonds. Usually the higher-ranked wolf was the one to say it, when they first met after they'd both matured.
Ragnar wasn't saying anything… but wait, was that why he was asking? I could scarcely dare to hope. Maybe, it could be true after all!
I opened my mouth, a small smile starting to form on my face but he cut in.
“You know what, never mind that.”
No. No, please.
Ragnar leaned forward, his eyes searching mine. “Go back to the celebration,” he said, his voice firm but not angry. “You’ve done enough here.”
I blinked, my heart sinking. I didn’t want to do that, I wanted to stay here. “But—”
“Go,” he said again, cutting me off. “Now.”
That was an order. I stood up, my legs shaky, and stumbled toward the door. My mind was racing, my emotions all over the place; confusion, the premature excitement I was still clinging to, all compounded by the pulsing hollow ache that he’d sent me away so easily.
After what we’d done, he was dismissing me like I was nothing.
As I reached the door, his voice stopped me. “You did good, Lad.”
And, thankfully, before I could begin to hope again, he stood, giving me his back, and a delicious view of his ass. “Shut the door behind you.”