CHAPTER 8: ADDICTING SMELL

He was still pinned heavy on top of me while I strained with everything I had to shove him off.

My body was betraying me, draining of strength under the relentless, thick wave of his pheromones saturating the air. The scent was a intoxicating, suffocating mix of sweet undertones and raw, crushing dominance. It lit a feverish fire under my skin, drowning my senses until I could barely think.

"Let the fuck go of me!" I yelled, my voice raw against his chest. "I swear to God, I'll kill you!"

I yelled, but he didn't budge. He kept his face buried in my neck, inhaling my scent greedily—like he was trying to tear the very scent out of my skin.

"I don't want to... you smell so damn good," he growled low, his voice thick with a dark,

suffocating hunger.

A pained, desperate groan tore from his throat. "Fuck, I goddamn like it."

He'd been repeating that same damn phrase for minutes now. The guy was completely out of his mind. It made no sense—I hadn't even released my own pheromones.

I knew how to keep them under control. Even in the presence of an Alpha in full rut, I remained completely concealed, thanks to the suppressants I took twice a week.

Staring blankly up at his bedroom ceiling, my mind raced for an exit strategy.

I could unleash my own scent to try and shock some sanity back into him, but that was a gamble, 'cause it might just trigger him to pour out an even heavier wall of dominance, and I didn't know if I could survive that intensity without collapsing.

My thoughts were cut short when I felt his hand slip beneath my shirt. His palm was searing against the bare skin of my stomach.

Fuck. I'm definitely going to murder this fucking bastard!

I grabbed his wrist, trying to pull his hand away, but his grip was ironclad. He was terrifyingly strong. His fingers dragged up along my side, sending an involuntary shiver through me from the sheer heat of his skin.

Shit! how do I get away from this lunatic?

My eyes went wide when I felt a heavy, rigid pressure pressing hard through the fabric of my jeans. I looked down and froze.

The massive, unmistakable ridge beneath his pants was throbbing, straining violently against the denim as if trying to break free.

Shit. Is this guy seriously in full rut? If he is, I'm seriously screwed.

Panicking, I jammed both hands against his shoulders and shoved with all my force. He barely budged. Instead, he drove his body down harder, pinning me to the mattress. He seized one of my wrists, locking my arm down beside my head, and ground his hips brutally against mine.

"Fuck, don't move," he snapped, a harsh curse tearing through his teeth as he rubbed himself directly against me.

"Hey! I'm not your damn Omega, got it?" I spat right into his face. "So while I'm still holding my temper, let me fucking go!"

He ignored me completely. He pressed his weight down even harder; the hot, throbbing mass in his pants digging right into my hip. While his free hand drifted up my torso and then his hot palm sliding up until his thumb brushed roughly over my nipple.

My jaw clenched. No one had ever molested me like this before.

A cold, vicious rage boiled in my chest—partly at him, but mostly at my own pathetic helplessness against a dominant Alpha.

No matter how hard I fought, the weight of his scent was paralyzing me. I couldn't breathe. I was drowning in it, caught in a feverish heat I couldn't control—a scent that was terrifying, suffocating, and infuriatingly seductive.

I hated him. I hated myself. And more than anything, I hated the karma that left me powerless against him simply because I was born an Omega.

My fists balled tight as the raw, suffocating frustration finally snapped something inside me. My pride refused to take this sitting down.

Throwing caution to the wind, I opened the floodgates and let my own pheromones surge out into the room.

The moment my scent hit the air, his head snapped up and our eyes locked.

His pupils were glowing a fierce, fiery red. The muscles in his jaw flexed so hard they looked ready to snap, and thick veins bulged along the strain of his neck.

"Fuck... what are you doing to me?" his voice came out ragged, barely a whisper.

My breath hitched as the swell in his pants expanded even further, grinding forcefully against my lower abdomen.

"Fuck you!" I screamed, pushing my scent out even harder. I tried to use my pheromones to crush his control and dominate him back—it was the only weapon I had left. But instead of backing off, the sudden wave of my scent only drove his arousal into overdrive.

Before I could react, he reached down and yanked his zipper open, popping the button. His dark boxer briefs strained, already damp with slick precum. Keeping his heavy frame pinned over me, he reached down with one hand, pulling the thick, throbbing length of his shaft free from the fabric.

My eyes widened. It was long, thick, and heavily veined, and looked ready to burst. He wrapped his fingers around himself, stroking the head in a desperate, jerky motion to relieve the pressure.

"Ugh!" A heavy groan tore from his throat.

He threw his head back, the cords in his neck standing out in sharp relief. He looked utterly out of his mind, lost to pure instinct as his hand moved rhythmically over his own flesh.

This was it.

Weak as I was, I concentrated everything I had left into throwing out a massive, concentrated blast of my pheromones. His eyes went wide and wild, his hips twitching as his hand worked faster, completely overwhelmed by the sensory overload.

Gritting my teeth, I pushed myself up from the bed. But he caught my movement and turned his bloodshot eyes back on me, leaning down to bury his face back into my neck.

I didn't give him the chance. With the absolute last drop of my remaining strength, I reeled back and slammed my fist flush into his cheekbone.

His head snapped violently to the side. For a second, he just sat there, clutching his bruised face, his wild eyes burning into mine.

Then, with a low growl, he collapsed forward, burying his full, dead weight over my neck and chest.

Fuck. I was really trapped now.

The suffocating smog of his pheromones washed over me again, finally draining the last of my energy. My vision blurred. I thought I was done for—until I realized the weight on top of me was no longer moving.

I shoved against his shoulders, but he wouldn't budge. Desperate, I scrambled out from under him and stumbled out of bed. My legs immediately gave way, and I nearly hit the floor, barely catching myself on the bedside table.

Breathing heavily, a wave of relief washed over me. I took a deep, ragged breath, trying to clear the lingering scent from my lungs, then turned to look at him.

He was passed out cold, face-down on the mattress.

Did my punch actually knock him out? Ha! Good. This bastard deserved it.

As the dense cloud of his pheromones slowly began to dissipate from the bedroom, I limped over to the side of the bed. I dragged his limp body around to check on him. Sure enough, a dark, ugly bruise was already forming on his cheekbone.

My gaze flicked downward. Even completely unconscious, his dick was still half-erect, twitching uselessly against the sheets.

Unbelievable. Suddenly, the rage that had just settled within me roared back to life.

I clenched my fist.

Looking down at his stupidly handsome, unconscious face, I felt my irritation flare all over again. Before leaving his condo, I leaned down and gave him one last solid punch to the other cheek, just to make sure he wasn't getting off that easily.

I also took all the cash out of his wallet and threw the empty leather back at him onto his chest.

I slammed his condo door shut hard enough to rattle the frame, then gave it one last hard kick before storming down the hallway and into the elevator.

He'd better pray he never sees me again—or else I'll be the death of him.