In trouble, p.1
In Trouble, page 1
Hannah Haze
In Trouble
Copyright © 2022 by Hannah Haze
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Foreword
You say tomato and I say tomato
I’m a British writer and use British English spelling and grammar. If you do spot any typos in this book, please drop me a line so I can make it right: hannahhazewrites@gmail.com (Or just drop me an email anyway. I love to chat!)
You can find a guide to my omegaverse at the end of this book. If you’re new to omegaverse, you may want to take a look.
This book is a sweeter reverse harem omegaverse with one omega and a pack of alphas. The main female character has experienced some emotional parental abuse in her past. A side character has been affected by voyeurism. For more detailed content warnings, please visit my website.
Acknowledgement
This is always the hardest part of the book to write, because how can I ever express how grateful I am to all the people who have helped me with this book! As always, I’ll give it my best shot!
Firstly, thank you to my alpha reader Hannah, an amazing writer herself who always makes my plots that much better! And thank you to my beta readers for their honest and insightful feedback — Deanna, Linky and Melissa.
To all my wonderful readers, you are the best. I’m so grateful for all the amazing reviews, feedback and comments. I really hope you love this story as much as I do.
MaryAnn, thanks for your proofreading and editing services and the addition of all those missing commas!
Last but certainly not least, Mr D and Stephy thank you for your advice, patience and cheerleading. Without your continued support and encouragement I would probably have fallen at the first hurdle. Love you both!
Chapter 1
The problem with alphas?
The dick is A-grade stuff.
What’s attached to it, not so much.
The other problem with alphas?
Now don’t get me wrong, a knot is … a knot is fucking mind blowing, but the damn knot has its downsides.
Take right now, for instance. I’m sitting in a toilet cubicle in a club, knotted firmly onto this alpha’s lap.
At least the view is good while I sit here and wait for the thing to deflate. It’s dark in the cubicle, the partitions and the door formed of mahogany wood and the wall covered in a matching panelling. But even in the dim light I can see he has the kind of deep blue eyes I could happily drown in, obscenely soft looking lips and stubble I want to scrape my nails through.
Still, I’ve had my wicked way with him. I’ve had my orgasm and I’ve been knotted. Now I want to get the hell out of here.
I’m pretty sure this is written all over my face, if not clear as day in my scent. But alphas being alphas, he seems oblivious to my wants and desires. It’s all me, me, me when it comes to alphas. They do what they want and screw everyone else. Screw omegas especially. In fact, they seem put on this earth simply to do that. Screwing us over in more ways than one since the beginning of time.
“Fuck, you feel so good, little Omega,” the big hulking alpha I’m sitting on says as he strokes his bear-like paws up my thighs.
“A very original line,” I mutter. “Did you think of that all by yourself?”
He drags his gaze from where we’re combined, up my body and to my face, clearly registering for the first time that I am not loving every minute of being knotted here to him.
“My cock is knotted to your pussy. Sorry if I’m not composing lines worthy of Shakespeare.” He pinches the soft skin of my thigh.
Yeah, that’s the other thing about alphas. They don’t like mouthy omegas. They don’t like mouthy omegas like me.
Don’t get me wrong. They’re more than happy to fuck me, but once they realise I’m not a compliant, amenable little thing, they lose interest quickly.
“Ahhh, let’s not pretend you know who Shakespeare is.” He frowns and my chest fills with a sense of triumph. “And let’s not bother with the small talk.”
The frown hovers on his brow, and then a smile flickers at the edge of his mouth.
OK, that’s different.
“What’s your name, Omega?”
“Don’t you think you should’ve asked me that before we did this?”
His eyes widen a little. He just asked me a direct question and I didn’t answer him.
Yeah, that’s the other thing about me. I’m immune to that kind of alpha bullshit. Four older alpha brothers will do that to you. I don’t take orders. I don’t jump when an alpha commands it.
“I don’t think you gave me much of a chance to ask you your name.” The alpha smirks at me.
Now it’s my turn to frown. “What does that mean?”
“You jumped me, little Omega.”
I frown harder. We both know that’s not strictly true.
“Omega,” his voice is more of a growl now – he’s going to test my limits, “what’s your name?”
I’m not saying it’s easy to resist. The ancient instinct to roll over and obey tugs deep and hard inside me, but I beat it down, clamping my mouth shut and turning my head away. Beside us, the plush toilet roll has been folded into a point and hangs neatly on the shiny roller. Someone has scribbled a message on the wall with black marker, but I can’t read the words.
The alpha examines my face and, for a moment, the voices of drunk people shouting out by the sinks and the thud of the base from the nightclub grows oppressively louder. His silence is distracting and so is his scent. It’s my favourite kind. Deep and masculine with a hint of citrus, an aroma that makes me think of long heady summer nights. I bat that thought away.
“How much longer do you think we’re going to be here?” I say in my most pissy voice. In my experience it varies. If you can irritate the alpha, his knot deflates a hell of a lot quicker. Other than that, it can last anywhere from five minutes to thirty – and I really don’t want to be stuck with this alpha for another half an hour. Besides, I wonder how long it will be before the woman handing out mints by the sinks starts hammering on the door.
“Why, you got somewhere to be, Omega?” I shrug my shoulders, showing him I’m bored. “My knot not doing it for you?” He pinches my thigh again and I growl low in my throat.
He chuckles, then closes his eyes with a long drawn out sigh.
What the hell is he doing? And then I realise.
“Woah,” I squeak, as I feel his knot grow harder, locking more firmly into my cunt. “What the fuck?!”
But before I get the chance to protest any further, his hand slides up to the back of my neck and squeezes the sensitive gland there.
My head falls backwards automatically and a moan escapes my lips. I can’t help it. It feels good.
“You like that, don’t you, little Omega? Can’t resist an alpha when he does that to you.”
I want to protest but his thumb is on my clit next, circling it with skill and my legs begin to shake, my cunt clenching in convulsions.
The alpha grunts loudly. “Fuck, that feels good. Squeezing my knot like a good little omega. I don’t think you like being a good little omega, do you?”
“No,” I growl as his thumb continues its clever trickery and his fingers caress my gland. He drags me closer to his body, borrowing his face in my cleavage.
“You smell so good and your tits are so soft.”
Somewhere in my quickly befuddling brain, I scoff at the sloppy words, but my attention is too diverted by the things he’s doing to my body to really care.
Every other alpha has ripped me from his lap by now and sent me on my merry way. This one is going for round two. What does that mean?
I’m not sure how I feel about it. But I’ll work it out later. Because right now he’s lifting me higher and higher.
His thumb starts to flick across my clit, his hand presses against my gland, and he’s yanked down my top and has my nipple between his teeth.
My core clenches. My whole body shakes. I try to squirm away from the intensity, but he holds me still, and I crash over the edge, jolting and crying out with ecstasy.
It lasts for one, two, three drawn out seconds, and then I collapse boneless against him.
He wraps his arms around me. “What’s your name?” he whispers.
“Connie,” I murmur, my name slipping from my lips without me realising.
Shit!
I don’t give away my name to an alpha. Ever.
I wriggle away from him, frowning as he grins at me with triumph.
I guess whatever magic he used to sustain his knot is fading and so is his knot. I can feel him loosening inside me. That little treacherous omega instinct deep inside me bemoans the loss, but I ignore her. She likes the things that alpha just did to us, the way he held us close. But we both know that will land us in trouble.
I wriggle off his lap before he c an stop me.
I have no idea where my knickers are, lost somewhere in our frantic rush for him to get inside me. I smooth down my dress and rearrange my boobs. Luckily, both my shoes are still strapped on my feet and I won’t have to go hunting for them.
The alpha is tucking himself away.
“Slow down, Omega,” he tells me, “I’m going to see you home.”
He wants to see me home? I cock my head to one side, examining him one last time. This isn’t playing out like it usually does.
“I don’t need an escort,” I snap, rattled. Losing an alpha afterwards is usually easy. They’re more than happy to part ways. This one …
“I’m not leaving you to find your way home when you reek of sex.”
“I said I’m fine.” He’s fastening his fly, so I take my opportunity and find the handle of the cubicle door, snatching it open before he has a chance to react. I dash through the bathroom, pushing my way through the group of women hovering by the mirrors, and out into the nightclub, heading straight for the heaving dance floor, coloured lights swinging overhead, the music thumping.
I squirm my way through the crowd, peering over my shoulder to see if the alpha is following me. I don’t think he is, and I sigh with relief. The club is too packed, the scents too many and too intermingled, for him to find me. I wait fifteen minutes anyway, sweeping the club for the man I just fucked and not seeing him anywhere. Perhaps he’s already moved on to the next omega. I wouldn’t be surprised. I’ve seen men here score five omegas back to back. Their appetites are insatiable.
Anyway, I don’t know what I’m worried about. That show of concern for my welfare was most probably just alpha bullshit. Just play acting. He’s probably already forgotten I exist.
Hooking my coat ticket out of my bra, I weave through the dancers and collect my bag and my coat. My phone is lurking at the bottom of my bag and I pull it out and flick through my messages; a few from Sadie asking me where I am, and whether I want to meet up. But I don’t fancy that. I’ve had my fill of alpha cock. I’m sated for the evening and now I just want to crawl into my own bed, curl up with my pillows and blankets, and sleep for a solid twelve hours.
I’m still flicking through my messages as I step out into the cool night, the frigid air nipping at my face.
Immediately, I am struck by that citrus scent.
Shit!
I peer up from my phone slowly and meet his unamused eyes.
“You always run out on an alpha like that?”
I don’t answer him. Instead, I keep walking.
“I said I want to see you home safely,” he tells me, his tone even more authoritative than it was in the cubicle, tugging at my insides. The clip of his footsteps on the sidewalk is loud.
We reach the back of the queue for the taxis.
“And I told you I can make my own way home.” Why is he doing this? The show is over. No need to pretend anymore.
He’s beside me in a moment. “Then give me your number so I know you’re home safely.”
I shake my head. No fucking way. But before I can tell him this, he’s snatched my phone from my hands.
I swing around, glaring at him. He swipes his thumb across my phone and finds it locked. I grin at him with satisfaction and he holds out his hand. My grin falls to another scowl. He wants my thumb. There’s no point fighting. He’s twice my size. If he wants my thumb print he will take it.
I place my hand in his. It’s warm and large and I remember the way they felt tracing over my skin. He presses the pad of my thumb to my phone, and the device lights up as it unlocks. He lifts my phone to his face, his eyes morphing even bluer in the screen’s light, and prods the screen. His phone buzzes in his pocket.
“There,” he says, handing me back my phone, his fingers brushing along mine as I take it from him, electricity shooting up my arm. I stare down at his hand and yank mine away, peering up to stare at him. He stares straight back at me and the heat of it has me backing away.
Then he steps off the pavement and opens the door to a waiting taxi.
“You’re not coming with me,” I mumble, my skin still tingling where he touched me again.
“Get in, Omega,” he says, and I slide into the back seat, the door slamming firmly beside me.
I think he’s gone, but then he’s leaning his head through the front passenger window, talking to the cabbie.
“Make sure you take her straight home to …” he twists his head towards me.
“545 Vicarage Street,” I say reluctantly.
“545 Vicarage Street,” he repeats to the cabbie. Then meets my eyes one last time. “I’ll call you later, Omega.”
I sink into the seat, trying not to notice how much those eyes dazzle me.
He ducks his head out of the window and the taxi pulls away. I don’t turn my head, but I can see his reflection in the rear-view mirror, hands on his hips, watching my car go. He catches my gaze and winks at me, my stomach fluttering oddly.
I snatch my gaze away.
Once we’re around the corner, I tell the cabbie my real address and turn my phone off. If he tries to call me, I’ll block his number.
I lean back in the seat with a relieved sigh, twirling the silver chain I’d swiped from his wrist around my fingers.
That was a lucky escape.
Thank goodness I never have to see that alpha again.
Chapter 2
And I don’t see him again, not for another two whole weeks.
I’m sitting at the front desk at work, sketching a design, and chewing on gum, when the buzzer sounds. I look up and there he is, strolling straight into the shop.
Shit!
I look towards the back door, wondering if I can slip out before he spots me. But it’s too late. He’s headed my way.
He marches over, and slams his fist on the counter, making the pile of papers leap into the air. I repress a jump and glare up at him with my best resting-bitch face.
“I want my bracelet back!”
“Bracelet?” I ask with an amused smile. “I didn’t think alphas wore bracelets.”
“It was my grandfather’s. He gave it to me as a gift on my 21st birthday and I want it back.”
A sliver of guilt slides down my gullet and swims around my stomach. I’ve always had this compulsion to pilfer things; shiny, pretty things that I could never afford. I’m a little magpie. Have been since I was a kid and made my first swipe – Lucy Magavern’s butterfly hair clip.
Now it’s only a thing with alphas. Powerful, rich, bloody privileged. It feels good to take something back. My collection of alpha trinkets feels like a win, a strike back against the unfairness in this world.
I close my design book and cross my arms over my chest.
“How did you find me?”
I blocked his calls. I gave him that false address. And he definitely didn’t follow me home that night.
“I have a friend.” Why am I not surprised? These alphas always have a damn friend somewhere. Someone who’s prepared to give them an advantage. An interview. A loan. A goddamn inheritance. “He pinged your phone and it came up with this address.”
He looks around the shop, at the ink artwork pinned all over the walls, the chairs and stalls and the equipment. “You work here?” he asks with a frown.
I wonder whether it’s worth continuing this conversation. My finger hovers over the green button under the desk. The one that will alert Hugh to the fact I need his help. The other button, the red one, will buzz straight through to the police station. But I’m not sure I want the cops here today.
“Yes, I work here.”
“You’re a receptionist?”
Yeah, I get that a lot. The tiny little omega with her perfume scent shouldn’t be working in a place like this.
“No, I’m an artist. I draw tattoos,” I add slowly to ensure the message sinks through his thick skull.
His eyebrows lift and his gaze sweeps down me as if he’s reassessing what he made of me.
“They not paying you enough here, Omega? Is that why you’ve got to pickpocket?”
“They pay me just fine, and I didn’t steal your bracelet.”
He leans over the counter and his voice lowers to a growl. “You did, and I’m going to get it back.”
