In control in with the p.., p.1
In Control (In With The Pack), page 1
IN CONTROL
IN WITH THE PACK
HANNAH HAZE
Copyright © 2023 by Hannah Haze
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Front covered designed by EVE Graphic Design LLC
Edited by Buckley's Books
Created with Vellum
CONTENTS
Foreword
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue - Five years later
A Guide to Hannah’s Omegaverse
Also by Hannah Haze
About the Author
Acknowledgments
FOREWORD
Ooo I have been looking forward to writing Sophia’s story - my little fire cracker of a beta. I toyed with the idea of whether to keep Sophia a beta or have her present as an omega, but ultimately I wanted a story that showed we are all worthy of love whoever we are. It also meant I could write a male omega and make him a ballet dancer - I’ve been wanting to write a male dancer for as long as I can remember. Gabriel gave me my chance. I hope you love these characters, as well as the rest of the pack, as much as I do!
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 'why choose' (reverse harem) omegaverse with one female character and a pack of male characters including alphas and an omega. The male characters are engaged in a longstanding emotional and physical relationship. The male omega character has experienced trauma in the past and the female character is the victim of stalking. For more detailed content warnings, please visit my website.
1
Sophia
My breath hovers in my throat, my gaze captured by the figure spinning across the stage.
One dancer in particular. The lead. He’s formed of densely packed muscle, his thighs and his torso rippling with every move he makes. And yet those movements are graceful, considered, and beautiful. As he lifts and spins his partner, drawing her close to the stage floor one minute and high into the air the next, it is him I can’t drag my eyes from. It’s as if she weighs nothing, as if it costs him nothing to glide her through the moving spotlights.
When finally he exits the stage, leaving his partner for her solo dance, I lean back in my seat, the velvet brushing against my bare back, and catch my breath.
It’s then I sense it. An awareness. Someone is watching me.
The sensation is not unusual. I catch people’s eyes. I know that. In fact, I like it – most of the time anyway. It’s why I’m wearing this dress tonight – a deeply seductive purple made of silk that swims over my body and pools at my feet.
I’m curious, though, as always, to see whose eye I’ve caught this time. Is it a catch worth pursuing, or one to discard back into the sea?
It’s opening night, and one of my mother’s latest beaus has wangled us tickets. All the great and good of the city of Studworth are gracing the theatre tonight. Some I’d like to meet, others I most definitely want to avoid.
Subtly, I lift my gaze, and it’s as if it’s drawn there. Drawn there by a man sitting in one of the boxes high above me. A man I don’t recognise.
He sits at the front, chin resting in his hand, and he’s staring right at me. He makes no attempt to disguise it. He’s dressed in a dark suit, although, unlike many of the men here at the ballet tonight, his white shirt is open at the neck. He has no bow tie. Even through the layers of his jacket, I can tell he is as well built and as powerful as the man I’ve been watching dancing across the stage. Although he’s larger, making the seat he’s crouching on seem minuscule.
And then there are his eyes. Dark and swirling and mesmerising. Capturing my attention and refusing to release it.
My breath stalls in my throat again.
Alpha.
The man is an alpha. And an alpha staring at me with obvious interest.
I quirk my head to one side.
I catch people’s attention all the time. Men and women. Old and young.
Not alphas’ though. I may be something worth gazing at, but I’m one thing no alpha wants. A beta.
Perhaps he can’t tell over the distance. Perhaps he’s mistaken me for the one thing every alpha does want: an omega.
I stare back at him. Meeting those intensely dark eyes with my own.
He’ll look away now. He’ll lose interest.
An omega can’t meet an alpha eye-to-eye. Something in their ancient instincts stirs and they’re compelled to look away. I don’t own those ancient instincts though. I have no problem staring right back at this man, the corner of my mouth curving in a seductive smile.
Most men like that. A little flirtation has their blood stirring. This man will be different though.
I wait for him to turn away.
The music on stage erupts. Trumpets blare. The pitter patter of many feet vibrates the sprung-floor.
He keeps his eyes fixed on mine and the corner of my mouth drops. A shiver traces its way down my spine. His hair is dark too, and his brows and the stubble that runs across his square jaw.
His tongue darts between his lips and traces along his bottom lip.
Then, eyes still locked on me, he stands, watching me as he side-steps his seat.
There’s a command in the way he’s looking at me. I’m no omega. I can’t read it, but I can give it a damn good guess.
I stand too, and for a minute his eyes leave mine, skating across my bare shoulders, lingering at the cleavage of my dress, warming my blood.
Slowly, his eyes rake up my throat before returning to meet mine. His brow lowers and my knees turn to jelly.
I’ve never been at the mercy of an alpha before, never piqued one’s interest. It is … intriguing.
I tear my eyes from him and lean down to whisper in my mother’s ear.
“I’m going to use the bathroom.”
As much as that dancer has held me entranced, I never wanted to be here. But wanting and having to be here are two different things. There was a time when I jumped at every opportunity to attend an event like this. But now there’s always that doubt lingering in the back of my mind. Will he be here? At an event like this, it’s always a possibility.
My mother slides her knees to the side and I squeeze along the row of people, conscious the entire time that the alpha is still watching me.
In the aisle, I gaze up at him again, meeting that stare which now seems hungry. Then I lift the hem of my dress and saunter towards the exit, hips swaying, giving him my best show.
Out in the foyer, it’s cool and goosebumps raise along my arms. I take a deep breath. My skin tingles with anticipation.
Have I caught my fish?
The long elegant bar with its mirror running the full length of the room stands empty. I stroll that way, anyway, finding a jug of water and several glasses.
I pour myself some, half watching the mirror.
I know immediately when the alpha enters the room, before I spy his warped reflection in the dimly lit mirror, before I hear his feet pad across the plush carpet. I sense him. His presence. If I was an omega, I’d know by his scent, but it’s not until he’s closed the space and I can see his dark eyes in the reflection, closer now, even darker, that I catch the faint whiff of his scent.
Dark too, like treacle.
I inhale, sucking his flavour across my tongue.
I take another sip of water, leaving a red imprint of my lip on the glass, and lower it to the bar.
Turning slowly, I find him so close we’re almost touching. Warmth and dominance radiate from his body, and, despite my heels, I have to tip my head back to meet his eyes.
“I’d ask you to buy me a drink,” I say, a smile hovering on my lips, “but the bar is closed.”
“I don’t think you came out here for a drink, little one.” His voice is deep, reverberating in his broad chest. It’s like a growl, a growl dipped in honey. It has that shiver shimmying down my spine again.
“No, I didn’t.”
“No, you didn’t,” he repeats, bending so our eyes are level.
Up close, I observe the colour of his. Not jet like they’d appeared in the theatre. A mahogany brown with a rim of gold.
“You’re very beautiful,” he tells me, reaching out to trace a finger
I go to open my mouth, to give him one of my quick retorts, but his mouth has replaced the pressure of his fingers and he kisses my throat.
I guess we’re skipping the small talk, sliding straight past the flirtation, heading straight for the seduction.
I certainly don’t have a problem with that.
The man smells like something I’d like to eat and his lips are plush and tender on my skin. Tender, with a hint of power.
I’m only mortal. Like every other woman on the planet, I’ve fantasised about an alpha’s mouth on my throat, about his strong alpha teeth snapping through my flesh.
I sigh, tipping my head back, leaning against the bar. His large hands come to claim my hips and he holds me still as he kisses up my neck to my ear, nipping at my lobe before whispering in the shell.
“Come with me, little one.”
No pretence at asking me if this is what I want. No …
He’s an alpha. He’s used to getting his way, to having his orders obeyed.
In any other situation, it would piss me off. I’m not some pushover, some little girl to be bossed about by men.
But in this situation, I’m more than happy to play along.
He takes a grip of my hand and walks us across the dimly lit foyer to a door marked PRIVATE.
I guess I should be thankful he didn’t try to rut me right there against the bar. Then again …
The door snaps open as he leans his heavy shoulder against it and he drags me along behind him as we enter a pitch-black room. No window. No light.
I want to protest, but then he’s pushing me up against the cool wall, my head knocking against the smooth plaster.
With his alpha vision, I assume he can see in this darkness because he finds my ear and whispers, “Such a pretty thing.” His hands glide over the silk of my dress, caresses the curve of my waist and my hips. “And this dress.”
“You’re quite pretty yourself,” I tease.
He snorts, his hand travelling down the outside of my thigh until he discovers the slit in my dress. He growls.
A noise that, now it’s directed at me, has my core spinning.
“I’m not pretty, little one. I’m not careful. I’m not gentle.”
“What are you then?”
His hand slips inside my dress, his knuckles rubbing against the inside of my thigh. Higher and higher until he finds the gusset of my thong. His thumb skates against my mound.
“Dirty,” he growls.
I whimper as his thumb skates along the lips of my sex, the thin material doing nothing to mask the sensation.
“I-I-I like dirty.” I take a hold of the lapel of his dinner jacket, yanking him closer, feeling the hard outline of him against my belly. “I like bad and rough and dangerous.”
He chuckles. “I worked that much out.”
He withdraws his hand and I swear at him under my breath.
But he’s not backing away; he shifts his thigh between mine, giving me friction where I need it and, clasping my chin between his fingers, lifts my face so he can claim my mouth.
He kisses me hard, the back of my head pressed against the wall, the fingers at my chin leaving to tangle in my loose hair and his other hand squeezing my tit through the dress.
My nipple hardens against his touch, and there’s that growl again, rumbling through our kiss.
Then he’s slipping the spaghetti straps of my dress down my shoulders and shimmying the whole thing down my body, letting it pool at my feet.
He breaks our kiss, leaning back to look down at me, dressed only in my thong and my heels.
When he dives back in to kiss me, it’s more wild, more desperate. His tongue sweeps through my mouth, his teeth drag against my lips, and his fingers tug in my hair.
I’ve never been with an alpha before. But I know the stories. I’ve seen the pictures. I know he’ll be big and girthy. I know he has a knot that would rip me open if he tried to lock into my unprepared cunt.
But although I should feel caution, I don’t. I feel only need and want and–
“Wet for me, little one?” he asks, his finger skating through my folds and finding my hole.
“Yes,” I gasp. “So wet.”
“No, sweetheart.” His fingers swim back to the apex of my folds, hitting my clit. “Need you really wet to take me.”
I yank at his jacket as he circles my clit. He’s teasing me. No plans to get me off quickly despite my needy little pleads.
“Make me come,” I order, pulling him toward me and claiming that mouth of his. His stubble is rough against my cheek, in contrast to his surprisingly soft lips.
There’s that growl and I’m debating what else I could say to make him do it again, when the pace of his fingers quickens. He’s flicking me now. Harder. With more precision and more authority.
The alpha is going to make me come. Like I asked. Like I demanded.
I smile against his mouth. Liking the way that makes me feel powerful.
Alphas, they’re all about the power. The dominance. The control.
It’s a kick to have the tables turn.
However, they don’t turn for long.
As my legs begin to shake and my core tightens, my kiss turning sloppy against his lips, he stills.
“No,” I stutter, my eyes flying open. I was so close, so achingly close. I stare straight up into those dark eyes of his.
“You forgot to say please, little one.”
I frown at him. He flicks me and I buck, chasing that feeling. A little more of that and I’ll be crashing over into the abyss.
“Don’t frown at me. Where are your manners?”
“I’m not into games.” I scowl at him.
“I think you are. I don’t think you’d be here right now if you weren’t.” He rubs his finger tip against my sensitive nub. “Now come on, ask me nicely.” He leans closer, his breath warm in my ear. “And I’ll give you what you want.”
“Please,” I mutter through clenched teeth, wanting his clever fingers to keep moving in that insanely good way.
“Please … Alpha.”
Shit. Is this what alphas are like? They like their games. I know that. I’ve seen it in classrooms and faculty meetings all my life. They are predators and they like to tease their prey.
But his fingers are stroking around me now, refusing me their pleasure where I need them most. So I’m prepared to play his little game. For the moment, anyway.
“Please Alpha.”
He chuckles and then his fingers flicker against my nub so quickly, so powerfully, it rips the orgasm from my core and shoots it through my body, right to the very tips of my fingers and my toes.
“Oh God!” I cry out against his shoulder, his jacket muffling the sound.
When I stop shaking in his arms, he sweeps his finger back to my hole.
“Wet,” he says. “See that’s better. You’re ready for me now.”
I wonder how long we’ve been in this dark room. Will my mother have missed me yet? Is she looking for me? Perhaps the performance has already ended.
“Going to fuck you now, little one,” the alpha says, hands gripping my arse and lifting me up.
“‘Please’,” I say with as much sarcasm as I can manage after an orgasm that rearranged my senses. “You forgot to say ‘please’.” Another growl. I squirm in his arms. “It’s only polite, Alpha.”
