Locked in the clinic's hushed after-hours, she runs the pump alone, milk-heavy and aching, telling herself the rhythm is enough. It isn't. Not since he walked into her lab and smelled her secret.

The alpha enforcer doesn't ask permission. He watches her through the observation glass until her hands shake, until the machine feels like a tease against what she really needs. Pack law says he's here to investigate her. Pack law says hands off. But the bulge in his uniform says something else entirely, and when he finally enters her private room, the pump is still running, milk still flowing, and his mouth closes over her before she can lie about wanting him.

He doesn't protect her. He takes. Her milk, her moans, the way she grips his hair when he latches too hard. Every session stretches longer, dirtier, the pump forgotten on the counter while he drains her with teeth and tongue and the filthy praise he whispers against her slick skin. She signs false reports for him. She opens her door at midnight. She lets him breed her on sterile examination tables with her milk still leaking, marking him the way he's marked her.

The tribunal finds out eventually. They always do. But by then she's already his, already pumping for two mouths instead of one, already too full of him to care whose laws they break when he knots her and drinks his fill.

A full-length Omegaverse erotic romance. For readers who like their alpha heroes starved, their omega heroines overflowing, and every pack boundary crossed in explicit detail.