Chapter 20 A SIMPLE ARRANGEMENT
SEBASTIAN'S POV
I wake up already tired.
Not the kind of tiredness that sleep can fix unfortunately.
The tiredness settles into my bones and refuses to leave.
My body feels tired and sore.
More than that though, I'm sexually frustrated.
My erections disturb me by day and my dreams grow raunchier by night.
I know why.
I don’t want to think about it.
I roll onto my side and stare at the wall, counting the cracks in the stone, listening to the pack slowly coming alive thanks to my werewolf hearing.
The distant sound of wolves shifting on patrol stirred something that I ignore.
And underneath it all like a pulse I can’t escape him.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Don’t.
But my mind betrays me anyway.
It drifted back to the feel of my hand when I stroked him.
How he groaned and how his voice slowly encouraged and mentally massaged my ears.
I groan and shove myself upright.
“This is getting ridiculous!”
I force myself through my morning routine with laser tight focus.
I brush my teeth and take a cold shower, one of many I've had today.
I scrub my skin harder than necessary, as if I can erase memory through friction alone. It doesn’t work.
The warmth lingers beneath my skin, stubborn and humiliating.
By the time I step out to start my chores, I’m already on edge.
Every scent feels stronger today and sounds feel and seem sharper today. I don't know why.
I've been feeling weird for a while, a bit hyper aware and my skin feels rather sensitive than usual.
I can feel my own awareness turning inwards and remembering when his tongue was on my face.
My body reacts before my mind catches up, and when I realize where it’s heading, I stop short like I’ve hit a wall.
No.
I actually say it out loud this time.
A passing omega gives me a strange look. I duck my head and move on.
The worst part isn’t the thoughts themselves.
It’s how easy they come.
I’ll be carrying supplies and suddenly imagine Alpha Ragnar standing too close behind me. I’ll be wiping down a table and picture his hands trapping me with my face to the table.
The images hit fast and rather vividly, without my direct permission.
My own mind is flashing me.
Each time, heat coils in me and each time, I have to pull back violently before my body decides for me.
And as much of a coward as I am, I'm ashamed to say this has not been a frequent thing.
Many times, I lose and touch myself while thinking of him.
By midday, I’m strung so tight it hurts.
I keep myself busy on purpose.
I volunteer for extra tasks even without pay, causing the supervisor to look concerned.
I move fast and keep my head down. I don’t let myself linger anywhere long enough to think.
But no matter what I do, my thoughts sit heavy in my chest.
I have a shift tonight.
With him.
The hours crawl slowly torturing me.
Anticipation and dread tangle inside until I can't tell them apart.
Part of me wants to call in sick but the other wants to bury himself in Alpha Ragnar's arms right now.
When the time finally comes, I return to my quarters and just stand there.
Then I sigh.
If I’m going to face Alpha Ragnar, I might as well be clean.
I take another shower.
I tell myself it’s practical, necessary but I wasn't fooling myself.
The heat loosens muscles that have been coiled up all day, relaxing me a bit.
When my thoughts start to drift again, I shut them down hard.
I dress carefully. Fastening my uniform, I check my hair, adjust my trousers and make sure nothing's out of place.
‘You are just doing your job,’ I tell my reflection.
The walk to the Alpha’s quarters feels longer than usual.
When I arrive, the atmosphere is rather… cold.
Alpha Ragnar is there of course. Massive, imposing and quite impossible to ignore in black slacks with glasses on.
Oh sweet goddess.
But where his presence usually presses in on me like gravity, tonight it’s distant.
It's closed off.
His expression looks like it's carved from stone, his attention fixed on reports spread across his desk.
He doesn’t look up when I enter.
I hesitate, then bow my head respectfully. “Alpha.”
Nothing.
I straighten slowly and move to my post near the wall, hands clasped behind my back in silence.
Minutes pass. Then more.
Wolves come and go, delivering updates, receiving orders. Ragnar speaks to them in a brief , concise tone.
Some of them look at me in curiosity, some ignore me and some glare at me outrightly.
Alpha Ragnar still does not speak to me.
It shouldn’t hurt.
But it does.
Every time someone else gets his attention, something tightens in my chest.
I tell myself I’m imagining it. That I shouldn’t expect anything else.
That I was only here to do my job.
Still, it gnaws at me.
My entire shift passes like this.
I exist at the edge of the room, invisible while everyone ignores or looks at me weirdly.
Today is not my day clearly.
By the time my shift ends, my mood has sunk low and heavy with disappointment pooling where anticipation had been.
I bow again. “My shift is over, Alpha.”
This time, Alpha Ragnar looks up.
His gaze hits me with full force assessing me.
My breath stutters before I can stop it. There’s something different in his eyes tonight.
“Stay,” he says.
The word landed on me like a bolt of lightning.
Alpha Ragnar dismisses the person he's talking to with a gesture, and suddenly it’s just the two of us.
My heart pounds.
“Yes, Alpha,” I manage.
Alpha Ragnar rises slowly, moving around the desk with deliberate steps.
Each one echoes too loudly in the quiet room. He stops a few feet away from me with his arms crossed as if he's deliberating something he'd regret.
“I’ve been observing a pattern from you,” he says.
I swallow. “A pattern, Alpha?”
His jaw tightens. “You are… affected by me, quite frequently.”
Heat rushes to my face. Oh my days, he noticed it? “I–I try not to be–”
“I know,” he cuts in. “That’s the problem.”
Silence stretches between us, thick and charged.
“There is a solution,” Ragnar continues, voice low. Controlled. “An arrangement. Just between us.”