You stop in your tracks, clutching an open hand over your abdomen.
"Shit," you mumble under your breath as an afterthought. Shit doesn't quite do this kind of pain justice. This cycle's heat has brought what your mother, Millie (owner and proprietor of The Brown Bottle), refers to as The Real Motherfuckers. The kind of cramps that stop a woman unexpectedly while on her way to work well after sundown. The two generic suppressants you popped an hour earlier aren't working as well as you hoped and you find yourself wishing you'd taken a third.
These are indeed The Real Motherfuckers.
It's looking to be the perfect cap on what's shaping up to be a truly shitty night. A nearly full moon, unseasonably hot weather, an evening of pouring shots for drunk bikers and now, The Real Motherfuckers. Talk to a cop, emergency doctor or bartender and any of the front line veterans will tell you when the moon is fat in the sky, the crazies came out to play. And that's not even taking into account every wolf suppressing the urge to shift, howl and run free.
A Saturday night at The Brown Bottle has never disappointed and as you glance back at your aging truck you shake the nagging feeling of something itching, shallow at the back your mind.
"Fuck, I should have called in," you sigh pulling open the wrought iron door of the back entrance.
The Brown Bottle is the only roadhouse for a hundred miles, tucked along the back roads of a mundane Nebraska backdrop. The evening inevitably starts out with the locals, anyone looking for a cold beer on a weekend somehow finds their way here. The combination of classic rock on the juke box and whiskey raining from the heavens is too much for people who have quite literally nothing else to do.
The first half of your shift plays out exactly as expected. Two regulars, Toby and Allen, sit in their usual seats; they're here almost every night and wonderfully predictable. Roy, local trouble maker and your biggest fan, is well into a ten beer buzz. He's moved on from staring at your ass to making disgusting propositions about the two of you spending some quality time in men's room. Roy is a pig, but he's all talk and he tips well so you roll with it as best you can.
It's little after eleven when the first of them arrive. You tense up, keeping an eye on them as they spill through the door.
"Hey Benny," you call loud enough for him hear. Benny's the nice one. The only response you get is a friendly nod of his chin in your direction.
He takes a quick survey of the room before heading to the bar. You raise a hand giving him a friendly salute that coaxes a smile. You already have a beer opened, it's part of the routine. You play your part, get the drinks out fast and try to keep the peace.
Behind Benny the rest trickle in, sometimes they only ride four strong, the three men and the petite brunette but tonight they have a larger group in tow. They've been coming for a few months now, the newest pack to grace Deep Jaw County. Anyone without the knowledge of the creatures that go bump in the night might assume they're biker gang, and they wouldn't be entirely wrong.
Lars, The Brown Bottle's only short order cook, calls them The Howlers. "They're the real deal," he whispers, throwing you warning glance from the kitchen.
Your mother got bit in her late teens, while she was pregnant with you. You imagine it had to be hard, having a baby at seventeen and then finding out you're going to turn into an animal. She made it work (like she does with everything), flourishing and becoming a strong Alpha as if it was her destiny. She did her best to protect you from this world.
People make the mistake of thinking the change happens all at once, that you hit puberty and suddenly just shift into a wolf when the first full moon rises. It doesn't. It's a transitional process that can take years.
Your mother knew you were an Omega the moment your first heat came. She cried in the bathroom for hours. "You have to be careful," she warned, "every Alpha who smells you will want to mark you, it's just the biology."
She wasn't wrong but you're used to it by now. Between men and wolves you're skilled at the art of making yourself unattainable. That is, until tonight.
You grab your regulars two more beers, double checking their tabs as "he" approached the bar.
"Sam," you acknowledge succinctly.
The closer he is the worse the pain in your stomach gets, tight muscles twisting sharply and sending twinges out in all directions.
"Salt," he quips back. He came up with his own nickname for you after the first night you served him, spilling an unsealed salt shaker into his lap. Now you wonder if he even remembers what your real name is. You assume it's his attempt at an inside joke but his straight face and unwavering seriousness make you forever uncomfortable.
His lips twists into something predatory as he smells you, every Alpha in the room must know you're in heat by now; you should have stayed home. Jesus, he's no different, the scent coming off him is ten times stronger than any Alpha you've ever encountered before.
You take a moment to give him the once over he deserves. He's a brawler for sure but that doesn't change the fact that he's incredibly attractive. You'd have to be visually impaired not to notice that strong jaw and handsome face. However, there's something else under the surface that keeps you at arm's length. You've fucked more than a few bad boys in your time, but he's is a different story. Sam makes your woman's intuition scream: keep your legs closed and move away without any sudden movements.
"I'll get you guys a round." You go to work quickly as he watches, you can feel his eyes on you, burning into your back. Sam makes you nervous and for good reason. "You want anything special?" you ask over your shoulder.
"Just the regular for now…maybe later you can help me out with something else." The timbre in his voice is unmistakable, he's teasing you, in his stoic, unreadable way. You glance back him, searching for a smirk but there's nothing.
You're attractive, especially for these parts and it's not an oddity to have men give you extra attention but it's not the same with Sam. Most men stare at your butt or brush up against your breasts. But Sam just stares at the back of your head like it's the new ass and titties. You get the distinct the impression he's hunting you, watching and taking notes, feeling you out over the last couple months. You're pretty sure he'd just as easily fuck you as he'd put a bullet in your brain if you pissed him off.
You've been around rough guys your whole life, part of being your mother's daughter. You can get a read on most people with the first hello. So you know the difference between guys playing dress up, guys who like the open road, a few beers and good fight…and guys like Sam and his crew. He's dangerous and not in a come-fuck-me-bad-boy kind of way. You've deduced by this point that their M.O. leans more toward bury-your-dismembered-body-in-the-woods.
Needless to say, you have no intentions of letting him between your legs…that is until he touches you.
::
It's been a long night and you're able to sneak out before closing. You fumble for your keys as you walk toward your truck.
"Y/N," he calls after you.
"What?" you stop hesitantly, unnerved by his mere proximity. All it takes is his hand on your arm in the parking parking lot, just skin on skin that ignites a spark you never knew was there. For a split second you pull away as if he's burned you, looking at him bewildered with a wild stare.
"What the fuck," you gulp, taking a deep breath as, what can only be described as frantic lust, climbs from your groin up to your chest. Sam scrunches his nose as his lips curls, taking a step toward you.
"Y/N," he growls again, advancing but not touching you, just hovering as he snarls, breathing in your scent. "You feel it?"
Every muscle in your stomach cramps, pain shooting from most the sensitive parts as you double over. You cry out, looking up to him, "You're doing this to me?"
You ask the question but the answer is obvious to you both. Sam stalks forward, reaching out and sliding his arm around your waist, your mouths meeting in a frantic union of teeth and tongues. You're about to let him fuck you on the hood of a rusted out Chevy Caprice when you hear howls and hoops coming from the other side of the parking lot.
Sam pulls away from you, his eyes darting over to the audience you've failed to notice.
"Take me upstairs," you plead sound embarrassingly desperate, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out over your body. Sam ticks his jaw and grabs your arm, dragging you toward the stairs that lead up to the small studio apartment above the bar where you lived when you were a kid.
There's a constant stream of thoughts, none of them rational and all centered around Sam and how badly you suddenly find yourself needing him.
Once inside he begins peeling clothes off, whipping your shirt over your head before shedding his jacket and shirt. He kisses you hard, one hand in your hair twisting, the other curling around your throat as if he needs the force to bring you to his mouth. He strips you, tugging and pulling clothes until you're fully nude. Then it's hands cupping breasts, pinching nipples between rough fingers as his teeth leave a trail of red marks down your shoulders.
"Fuck, I wanna taste you but I need to fuck you first," he lifts your head up to look at him, his hand cradling your jaw as you stare at him drunk with attraction. Staring at your mouth, shiny lips part as you gaze back at him. "Is this what you want? You want me to fuck you, little Omega? You want everyone to know you're mine?"
"Yes," you huff with conviction, the sound getting caught in your throat. This is about more than just sex; if he does this you'll be mated for life.
"Get on the bed," he instructs. Your lower lip catches under your teeth as you turn and wander in a haze over to the mattress. Climbing onto the bed you get on all fours before you feel him pushing you forward onto your stomach. Gripping your hip, he rolls you onto your side and then he's right there, the length of his body pressing into you from behind, one arm under your neck and curled around your chest, the other on your hip pulling your backside into him as his rock hard cock pokes you in lower back. There's a strange mix of emotion as you feel him sniff at the back of your neck, breathing in your scent like a feral dog as he scrapes his teeth over skin and hair.
Part of you is scared, but the scent of him is utterly overwhelming. You squirm when his arm tightens around you and he growls in your hair, pressing his face into the back of your skull, breathing in again.
Your senses overcome, Sam moves his hips grinding his erection just enough to ease the friction. His skin is hot and it makes your breath come faster. You begin to melt into him, as if Mother Nature is taking over and making your decisions for you. It's almost familiar, he has his own manly scent but there something more. You inhale, drawing it into your lungs and your body begins to hum hotter. It's a low vibration from somewhere deep inside your belly. The more of him you breathe in the more your body relaxes and turns itself on, your hips canting back against his cock.
A true bond. This is what it feels like.
It's only a moment of you panting before his hand slides over your hip and down your stomach. You hiss as two of his fingers find your cunt. He misses your clit but the near pressure makes you buck forward into his hand. He groans with satisfaction as he scoops two fingers into your cunt to find you wet, really wet. Satisfied, rubbing your slick between his thumb and middle finger, he withdraws his hand and huffs behind you, "I'm gonna make you mine, fuck you open."
You close your eyes, sends up a silent prayer. You're well aware of what's about to happen, he's a strong Alpha and your heat has triggered his rut.
"Please don't hurt me," you whisper, trapped between logic and your own physical response to him. Your hand slides down to cover his where his fingers are playing over your clit, urging him not to stop. Your words might be hesitant but you don't want him to mistake them for true apprehension. You've never wanted anything more in your life than for him to push inside you.
He lifts you onto your side, moving behind you. "I'll never hurt you," his hand reaches under you, sliding over your stomach before grazing over your clit again. When he gets the reaction he's looking for, a whimper accompanied by the cant of you hips, he presses hard, sliding back and forth over the little bundle of nerves. "I'm gonna put my pups in your belly tonight."
"Alpha," you groan, wanting nothing more in this moment than for him to do exactly what he's promising. You have no idea who he is, this man who hours ago was practically a stranger is now the person you want to give yourself to in every possible way. You've never felt anything as strong as the need to have him knot you. He continues to rub your clit, faster now as everything between your legs is wet and ready.
With two hand he hauls your hips into higher into air, manhandling you like a ragdoll as the head of his cock finds it's way inside you.
You yelp as he slides deep, his hips stutter against your ass for a moment before pulling back and driving back into you with force. He grunts as he holds your body in place and then he does just as he promised: he fucks you, he fucks you hard and fast until you see stars.
He feels you pushing back into him, your pink mouth falling open as he fucks you with the length of his cock, letting it slip almost all the way out before sinking back, deeper than before.
"Does my cock feel good inside you?" he asks.
Your cunt clenches around him, tightening at his words. You whimper in response, shivering "Yes, so good."
"Who do you belong to?" Sam commands, fisting a hand into the hair at the back of your head.
"Yours, I'm yours," you cry, lost somewhere between the wet slap of your bodies and Sam's barks of pleasure as you moan his name, begging him not to stop. In that moment there is nothing more the feeling of him rutting into you desperately, it's primal. You're wet enough that he's sliding easily and his going deep enough that it's bringing you incredible pleasure that borders on mind numbing.
All this stimulation combined with your body's response to his pheromones is like like being in a dream state. You're on the edge of orgasm for what feels like a lifetime, his cock sliding firm and hard, hitting a place inside you that you've never reached before.
As a general rule you're not hard to get off, a few well placed strokes can send you careening over the edge but now, as Sam's balls slap into you with each push of his hips it occurs to you that you're body is reacting to his in a whole new way. You won't come until he does, it's nature's way of making sure you're ready for everything he's got to give.
This isn't fucking, you're mating.
"Oh my god," you moan as the realization somehow flips a switch inside you, pushing your hips back into his desperately.
Sam rolls you onto your belly, holding you just off the bed as he begins to grunt enthusiastically, shoving harder and faster, until you feel something, a tightness growing around his cock where it's pumping at a furious pace.
"Gonna knot you, little Omega," Sam growls, pulling your body back in tune with rhythm of his hips. You feel the tight ring of muscle around the base of his dick expanding in size, stretching your pussy beyond anything you ever felt before.
"Sam," you call out, reaching forward with arms flailing you find nothing but sheets to grab onto. His knot, now at it's widest, is keeping his dick from sliding inside you, but he's still moving his hips as you both rock into the mattress.
It's at this point several things happen simultaneously. Sam practically howls, a wild guttural sound that's truly inhuman as he comes. You feel him spilling hot inside you, pulse after pulse of his seed fills, and fuck if you can't actually feel it. It's this new sensation that sends you over your own peak, chanting Alpha, Alpha, as your eyes rolls back into your skull, mouth hanging open as pleasure racks your body.
You're clenching and convulsing around his cock as Sam grabs a fist full of hair and yanks backward, your breasts arching off the bed. There's a split second where you realize what's happening before his teeth sink into your neck. You scream as skin breaks and he claims you, making you his in a very permanent, physical way. His mouth seals over the wound, tongue lapping over your torn flesh…
Time feels like it stops.
You lie tangled around one another, his mouth on your neck and cock in your cunt until your heart stops pounding and you can breath again. Grunting, his lips pop free of the bite at your neckline.
"Are you okay?" he asks breathlessly, releasing your hair as your head falls limp to the mattress. You can feel his breath at your ear as he nuzzles affectionately, his nose rubbing the skin just behind your earlobe.
"I think so," you reach behind you, placing at hand on his hip. "I've never felt like this before."
"I hope not," he grins wrapping two arms under you and rolling you both onto your side. His cock tugs inside you, still trapped and his strong body curls around yours. His hand spreads wide over your stomach making you arch back into him.
"This is…bizarre," you confess as exhaustion washes over you.
"What is?" he asks.
"This feeling," you turn your head to try to look at him, but all you get are his lips trailing down your neck, "like love and need and desperation. Is this…what you want?"
It's a little late to ask now. He could just as easily fuck you, claim you and leave you a marked Omega if he wanted. There are few things that bring more shame in your world than a claimed but unwanted Omega.
He makes a satisfied sound, pressing the palm of his hand over your belly button. "I'm gonna make you the mother of my children, I'll always take care of you."
His words sink in as you lay together, hands traveling over skin, lips anywhere and everywhere until you fall asleep surrounded by his body and his smell.
After this, everything will change, and it's only the beginning of your story.