Alpha Mates for the Omega

The ceremony was supposed to be indoors, but due to the rare but welcome sunny day, it had been moved outdoors just 2 hours before the ceremony. The gardens had been converted to accommodate the ceremony, and what they had done was short of magic. White rose petals made a path from the back door of the main house all the way to a small gazebo that sat on the edge of the lake that sparkled in the sunlight and was framed by forest that surrounded the property, creating a mystical backdrop. The groom stood at the bottom of the gazebo with a bewitched look, and Tory would swear what looked like tears in his eyes. Tory beamed at her mum. 'Ready?' She asked. With a nod, the first notes of the wedding march started, and Tory and her mum, arm in arm, began making their way down the aisle. Tory felt like she was in a fairy tale, surrounded by mystical beings; she was waiting for the birds to burst into song at any moment. As they reached the groom, they stopped and hugged each other. She loved her mum so much. They both started laughing and gave her a quick hug. 'I Love You. No one deserves this more than you.' Tory whispered in her mum's ear. She felt tears coming into her eyes, and she pulled away before she started crying. Only to see the telltale sign of tears reflected in her mum's eyes. 'Take care of her', Tory said as her mum took her place next to Graham, and she sat on the front row next to her aunt Linda. Her mum had been blessed with finding love twice in one lifetime. Tory's mum had married her dad when they were eighteen and could barely afford the simple ceremony they had, so Tory was glad that her mum could finally have the ceremony of her dreams. Her mum's life with her dad hadn't been easy, so she hoped that her mum found her happily ever after with Graham. He was already doing really well in her books by having brought her mum out of the shell she had hidden away in since her husband's death. Once the priest pronounced them husband and wife, the party followed the newlyweds to the conservatory, where lunch was served. Tory couldn't speak to them until late afternoon, even though she was sitting beside her mum. People kept coming up to congratulate them, and in many conversations, she felt like they were purposely keeping her out. She finally got a minute with her mum when they moved back outside into the garden that now had a bar and dance floor with no flower petals or chairs in sight. Her mum and her husband, Graham Campbell, opened the dance floor with their first dance to At Last by Etta James, and after a few seconds, couples started joining in, and that's when Tory saw him walking in her direction. He was tall, not just taller than her, who barely reached 5'5 in 4-inch heels; he was probably around 6'4 with a slim but muscular physique. His suit was perfectly tailored, enhancing his broad shoulders and trim waist. His body, from what she could tell, was perfection. She couldn't suppress the shiver that ran down her spine at the pure male magnetism he released, and when those eyes locked onto hers, her body became a furnace of desire. She wanted to look away. That look was doing things to her insides that she had never felt before. As he made his way towards her, people kept calling out to him, making conversation with him, and even in those brief interactions, his gaze never entirely left her, keeping her immobile and flustered. He finally reached her, and she had to tilt her head back to make eye contact. He stared her down; his look was anything but friendly, but it was making her belly do all sorts of somersaults while her panties became wetter by the minute. She could feel herself blushing as the realisation came to her. 'You must be Victoria McKeone' He said. His voice was deep and raspy, and the vibrations seemed to travel down to her core, causing another gush of wetness to release onto her panties. After this conversation, she had to make a quick trip to her room to change her underwear. Up close, he was even better looking than she had first thought. His dark blue eyes were surrounded by the longest and fullest lashes, the type every girl can only dream of having. His lips, wide and full, were set in a stern line, and still, her mind could clearly imagine them trailing kisses down her body. His wavy light brown hair was combed back, but the unruly mass clearly sat just above his shoulders. Her fingers tingled with a need to stroke through those stands and release them from their tamed prison. She was feeling hotter by the second, and his stare was not helping the situation. Her mind had always had an active imagination, and it was supplying her with the most vivid and erotic images she had ever had. She was having trouble breathing, and words seemed to have evaporated from her brain; she felt like she was no longer a human but an animal going into heat. He took a deep breath, almost as if sniffing the air, and at that, his eye darkened, and for a split second, she thought she saw desire in his features before his eye narrowed. She kept staring, unable to rationalise his effects on her; a tick in his facial features caught her eye, and with it, the realisation she hadn't answered him. Clearing her throat, she thought hard about what he had said, and after a quick internal shake, she found her voice and words. 'Yes, but you can call me Tory; everyone does', she said. She extended her hand to him, and when he made no move to take it, she blushed even deeper. She let her hand drop and carried one. 'We seem to be at a disadvantage, as I do not know your name.' He smirked at that, and she could feel a gush of fluid drench her panties once more. She squeezed her thighs together to relieve the ache between her legs. She had never in her twenty-three years of life reacted in such a manner towards a man. He gave her a knowing look as if he knew how he was affecting her. Which insinuated he caused this reaction in every woman he came into contact with, but that didn't stop her flush from travelling down her body. 'I'm Sebastien Campbell, your stepbrother', he said while bending down, grabbing her hand and kissing it. All the while, that smirk never left his lips. 'Oh' was all she could say. Sebastien was playing with her. Her eyes widened, and her mouth stayed open in a permanent O. Her reaction to him was not something she could control, but she was mortified. 'I believe it is custom for new siblings to dance with each other', he drawled. 'Would you do me the honour?' She nodded, not having yet recovered her voice at the shock. She didn't want to dance with him, but refusing without a reasonable excuse would be rude, and she didn't do rude. 'I would prefer a verbal response, but on this one occasion, the nod will suffice', he said. Tory was too shocked and distracted by his hand moving up from her hand, which he hadn't released to her elbow, to register his words. Sebastien guided her towards the dance floor with his hand on her elbow. Upon reaching it, he pulled her towards him, making her stumble and bring her free hand up to stop her face from smashing into his rock-hard chest. She took a deep breath close enough to catch his cologne's dark chocolate and cinnamon notes. Her head felt light, and she wanted nothing more than to lean into that scent and stay there forever. Forcing herself, she tried to step back, but the steel arm around her waist prevented her from moving. She looked up at him, taking in that the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. A feeling of safety enveloped her, causing her mind and body to go into turmoil about how she could feel this way with a man she just met. Peeking at him from under her lashes, he was no longer looking at her, apparently uninterested. His focus was on all the other couples on the dance floor, and that notion irritated her. They danced in silence for a while, and though she usually loved silence, all she could think about was hearing more of that deep, raspy voice. 'I didn't see you during the ceremony' Tory mentioned. 'I came in late,' he said, scowling down at her. He was going to make conversation difficult. 'How did you know who I was?' she asked. 'I saw you walking with your mother down the aisle', he said, looking away from her again. Nope, he was not going to help with this conversation. Not having much experience maintaining one, Tory gave up and went back to drooling over his pectorals, appreciating the subtle movements. She had never felt this need with anyone, always preferring the animals she dedicated her life to studying and protecting to the company of other humans. Other than the select few or, more accurately, three people she maintained contact with. But here was this fantastic specimen of a man making her want everything, the sound of his voice and exploring what was under the clothes he wore, how she would take her time exploring every dip and curve of his muscles, kissing, tasting and rubbing her scent all over him so all other females knew he belonged to her. OK, it was official: she was spending too much time with animals that she even fantasised about scent marking a male as if another human could smell her scent markers and back off. 'Your mother really has moved up in the world', he whispered into her ear, making her shiver. It took a while for the words to fully penetrate the fog of lust and need she had wrapped herself in, but when it did, her head snapped up. 'Excuse me!' she squeaked, her lust and indignation mixing together to create a tone she had never heard coming out of her mouth before. She knew this would have done it if she wasn't as red as a tomato. 'She has talent; I'll give her that,' he said, smirking down at her. 'Snagging one of the richest men in England from one of the most distinguished families is no small feat', he continued. She glared up at him, glad for his comment as this was finally clearing up feelings he had invoked in her. He couldn't be serious. What was this? A child revolted that his father had moved on from his mum or feared that he would be left without a fortune. Either way, it showed her the type of man-child he was and exactly the type of man she would never become attached to. 'My mum is not that kind of woman' she said between gritted teeth. She tried to keep her voice at a whisper when she wanted to shout at the jerk. He laughed at that, and it took everything she had to not smack him there and then. Her back was ramrod straight since the snarky comment left his lips. 'No, she is just the type of woman that breaks up a marriage,' he remarked. 'What?! That's not true.' She said it couldn't be. No! How could she doubt her mum even for a minute? 'That is not true', she repeated with more conviction. 'Your parents had been separated for years'. 'You are either very naive or play this game just as well as she does,' he replied. She tried to pull away from him, but his arm was still keeping her captive. 'Let me go! We are done with this conversation,' she said, pushing away from him again. 'Be still!' he said between gritted teeth. 'Do you want to call attention to yourself that much?' his arm tightened, pulling her closer. She gasped as she felt the rigid shaft that pressed into her belly. Looking up at Sebastien with accusing eyes and the ever-present blush that didn't seem to want to go away. He laughed at her again. Bringing his head down, he whispered in her ear once again. 'Don't be so shocked, little one; it's a normal reaction to having a sexy little thing drooling and rubbing herself against me', he drawled. 'I did no such thing!' she said indignantly. 'Really? You haven't been drooling over me since you saw me?' he said. 'Little one, you can try lying to yourself, but your eyes and body have been telling a story of their own', he chuckled. She looked away from him, not dignifying that with an answer. 'How much longer are you planning to hold onto me?' he rasped in her ear. 'The song has ended'. She felt the heat in her cheeks intensify even more at his words; she had never hated that her flush was so prominent more than she did now. She sent him one last glare before pushing herself away to leave. 'It was a pleasure dancing with you, dear sister', he said before she could walk away.