Once he'd spilled the last drop, Samson reached down and tangled his fingers in her hair. Tilting her head, he breathed a ragged whisper in her ear.
"Mine."
And Cassidy knew it was the truth.
She had no idea why. She had no idea how. But there was no more doubt.
She was Samson's woman.
Chapter Ten
Cassidy felt like she was floating. Absolutely floating.
She felt so good, so amazingly perfect, that she almost couldn't believe she was awake. She'd only ever felt this good in dreams.
But this was real.
Samson's knot had eased over an hour ago. When he'd finally pulled out of her, she'd expected him to roll over and fall asleep…just like every other lover she'd ever had. But instead, he'd climbed out of bed, pulled on a fresh pair of pants, and told her he was heading out to do some chores.
She should have known better. Samson wasn't like anyone else—alpha, beta, or otherwise. He was nothing short of amazing.
And all hers.
The thought sent a rush of pure bliss through her veins.
Of course, Cassidy's clinical brain knew it was just a trick of her nervous system. Right now, her post-sex body was flooded with dopamine, endorphins, and oxytocin. All of them working together to make her feel like she was closer to Samson than ever before.
Screw the science for once, she thought. She didn't give two shits what was causing this blissful feeling; she just wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.
Because it wasn't going to last long.
Even now, little tendrils of guilt were starting to creep in. While she was lounging around in bed, basking in the afterglow of another dozen or so mind-blowing orgasms, Samson was out there actually doing something productive with his day.
She needed to do the same.
So, why couldn't she force herself to get up?
As tempting as it was to blame her sore, overworked legs, she knew it wasn't anything physical that was keeping her down. It was all emotional.
She was hiding under the covers because the second she put her feet on the floor, she'd have to face this new reality.
The reality where she was no longer a Ph.D. candidate. Where she had nothing to do with the academic world. Where she was an intellectual outcast.
Shit. Talk about a splash of cold water to the face.
Cassidy let out a sigh as she threw back the covers and forced herself up. She found her clothes right where she'd left them—in a heap on the floor. She threw on her bra and panties but stopped at her pants.
Instead, she went to Samson's closet and flipped through a stack of neatly folded shirts. She picked out a blue flannel and held it up to her nose.
Dear God, it smelled just like him. Another wave of deep contentment washed over her.
Cassidy threw it on and buttoned up the front. The thing was huge on her, of course. The hem falling past her knees. But the fabric was soft and warm. She rolled the sleeves up to her wrists and cinched the waist with the belt from her pants.
Like something an omega would wear.
The thought made Cassidy stop mid-step on her way out of the bedroom.
Like…an omega. Something she could pretend but never be.
All the good feeling chemicals that had been rushing around in her head a second ago disappeared in a heartbeat.
Cassidy forced her chin up as she kept walking through the house and into the kitchen. She needed to do something useful. Something that would busy her hands and keep her head from drifting down dark pathways.
She gave a determined nod when she spotted a bag of flour and a brick of yeast.
Bread. There was something she could make.
Digging through the cupboard and shelves, she found the rest of the utensils and ingredients. Then she pulled up her sleeves and got to work.
Mixing and needing the dough felt good. Pounding on it let her work off a little aggression too. But what was really nice was the opportunity to focus and think.
As wonderful as finally being with Samson was, this wasn't how Cassidy imagined her life turning out—baking off her frustrations in a small cabin in the middle of the Boundarylands.
Still, she couldn't say she was surprised.
At first, Cassidy had thought all she felt for Samson was simple attraction. As the months went on, it became harder to deny that there was more to it.
With each passing visit, she found it harder and harder to leave the Boundarylands.
Cassidy shook her head as she punched down the dough again. It wasn't the Boundarylands that was hard to leave. It was Samson.
She cared about him. Deeply. Sometimes painfully.
Maybe more than she should.
But Samson wasn't the only thing she cared about. She also loved her studies. Alpha research was her calling. It was a part of who she was. A major part.
Just like hunting and working the land wasn't what an alpha did. It was who he was. There wasn't a force on earth that could pry an alpha off his land. There wasn't a soul alive who could keep him from living his life.
So, why wasn't it that way for her?
Cassidy's hands stilled, her fingers covered in sticky dough.
The question stuck in her head.
Why couldn't she keep doing her research? Who was stopping her?
She might not be a graduate student at the university anymore, sure, but that didn't mean that she had to stop doing what she loved.
Hell, she was in the middle of an alpha researcher's wet dream—an unprecedented relationship with an alpha.
At least she assumed it was unprecedented.
Cassidy had never read a thing about long term alpha/beta couplings, and, God knew, she'd read everything available.
The analytical part of her brain bubbled with excitement. How often did a researcher get to experience such a groundbreaking development firsthand?
She already had so many notes. Once she added to them and managed to turn them into a paper—keeping the subjects anonymous, of course—she'd have her pick of academic journals. Hell, it would be
