Chapter 38
Grant ran one finger around the entrance, and Rafael stiffened, arched his back, and begged, “Please, finish this! Make me yours.”
“I want to, more than I can tell you. But we can’t. Now, get hold of yourself.”
The glare Rafael shot him could have scorched steel, and Grant could see the rush of invective building.
The sound of someone pounding on the outer door put an end to the flow of words about to be released.
“Mr. Tenereth!” More pounding. “Open the door this minute!”
Shit. They were out of time. While he’d let himself be distracted, the enemy had regrouped.
Grant flipped Rafael sideways onto the floor and sat up. The omega’s high-pitched wail of frustration echoed off the bathroom walls and had Grant cringing. Scooting on his butt, Grant shoved himself against the bathroom door, slamming it shut.
A crash from the other room meant the chair propped under the outer door had given way. Channing must be inside. Grant fished in the side pocket of his jacket and pulled out a syringe. “Don’t worry—I’ve got this covered.”
The door knob rattled and a moment later someone shoved on the door, slamming it into Grant’s back.
“Mr. Tenereth! Stop what you’re doing. The omega is not yours—it’s his heat you’re reacting to!”
Another thud, louder and harder. Grant braced his feet against the tub to push against the door while Rafael again tried to climb into his lap. Fumbling with the syringe, Grant didn’t have an extra hand. The omega took quick advantage to unzip the alpha’s pants and expose his cock. A moment later, Grant was mewling with need as the swirling tongue lapped its way around the head of his rock-hard erection.
With shaky hands, he pulled the cap off the needle and released the air from the syringe. Fighting to ignore the happy humming and slurping coming from his lap, Grant reached over Rafael’s back, jabbed the needle hard into the man’s butt cheek, and pressed the plunger.
Rafael jerked his mouth off Grant’s cock and looked up, confusion filling his eyes.
No time for explanations.
The next attack on the door was successful, and Grant’s body was shoved out of the way. Strong arms grabbed him and hauled him out of the bathroom. He found himself dumped on the floor next to the bed. While no one was paying him any attention, Grant managed to slip the now empty syringe into his pants pocket.
The two security guards Channing had brought with him dragged Rafael from the bathroom and hustled him toward the exit.
The omega twisted in the guards’ grasp and threw his alpha an anguished look of desperation.
Grant’s breath caught in his throat. Rage and need overwhelmed him as he lay helpless, watching his omega being dragged away. He’d failed. Rafael was still trapped in this awful place. All Grant had managed to do was to slip the man a suppressant, buying a few more days, maybe a week, before any alpha would claim him.
Sprawled on the floor, trying to breathe through the wrenching pain of losing his omega, he cursed his weak-willed stupidity. Why hadn’t he followed the damned plan—give the injection and drag Rafael out of the nearest window? Instead, he’d let his emotions and his hormones take charge. And now, short of driving a Sherman tank through the walls of this hell-hole, Rafael was lost to him.
No! He couldn’t give up yet. Rafael deserved an alpha worthy of him, not a cowering weakling
Ruthlessly suppressing his anguish, he forced his mind to concentrate. His head began to clear. If a tank turned out to be the only option, he’d buy, beg, borrow, or steal one to get the job done.
But they hadn’t tossed him out the door yet.
He had to think his way through this.
He had to plan. 21
Once the door closed behind Rafael, Channing rounded on Grant. “Your behavior has been appalling, Director!” The fussy man smoothed his perfect hair and appeared to calm himself. “However, I admit some measure of blame—I was distracted and must have been careless with the lock.”
Hoping to gather a few shreds of dignity—as much as a sprawled half-naked man with his dick flopping about can have, he offered, “Mr. Channing, I apologize for this spectacle. I’m embarrassed, but the scent of the omega—” He breathed deep and rolled his head back, letting the man reach his own conclusions.
Channing sneered. “I’m not surprised. This is why our system of carefully controlled matching is so much better than these primitive free-for-alls.”
Fearing it was useless, Grant nonetheless had to ask to see Rafael again. He didn’t think flaunting his Omega Council credentials a second time had a chance in hell of impressing Channing, so he tried flattery instead. “You’re the expert, and you tried to warn me—I should have listened to you. I didn’t realize the power of the omega scent.” With a sidelong glance at Channing to gauge the effect, Grant added, “Thank you for being so understanding. I still need to question the omega, but I leave myself in your capable hands as to how it can be managed.”
Channing pursed his lips and gestured at Grant’s clothes. “Tidy yourself, Director. I’ll take you to my office where you can get yourself under control.”
“Your office?” Grant’s heart rate spiked as an idea took shape in his mind.