by Lola Rock
Traitors.
“Move,” a muffled voice says, and then Hunter’s shoved out of the way. Finn leans over the steering wheel, craning toward me. With dark red hair and sparkling green eyes, he licks his lips, pure mischief. “You need a ride?”
“Hop in.” Hunter nods to the backseat.
No way am I squeezing into the cab. I give it thirty seconds before I’m dry humping both of them.
I hobble around and climb the bumper, hauling myself into the truck bed. I crawl forward, then collapse. It feels so good taking the pressure off my feet.
Finn slides open the window in the back of the cab. “Scared of us, Omega?” His grin is all teeth. Maybe I’d be scared, but I taste his scent on the air.
He smells like blood oranges and sweet cream with a hint of smoky gunpowder. I gasp, and the taste coats my tongue, crawling down my throat like Finn’s already inside me.
Holy fuck, I’m weak for these guys.
It takes a second before I can do words again.
All the while, Finn watches, eyes glittering like he’s seriously enjoying himself.
“Glad you’re having fun.”
“You have no idea.” He shuts the window, and I sag, free of the overpowering scent of him as Hunter guns the truck.
I lie back, lulled by the wind and the rocking bed.
I’m not aware of anything else until the thunk of the hatch going down. Blinking, I find a red-headed demon hovering over me.
“What are you doing?” Finn tilts his head like a curious puppy.
“Resting?” I blink up at him, confused, trying to hold my breath. I start to sit, but the world spins, and my stomach jumps on this opportunity to rumble like an alien creature.
“Here.” Finn offers me a hand, pulling me up surprisingly gently. His touch is warm and satisfying as hot soup on a cold day. The good chicken noodle kind that fills up your soul.
Upright, I realize we’re nowhere near the house. Tall buildings surround a crowded parking lot. I smell frying oil and cigarettes.
“Are you sending me back to the OCC?” It sounds like an amazing idea at this point. At least there, I can be anonymous. With the Wyverns, I’m under an electron microscope.
“Nah. Just brought you along for the night. You want to come out with us?” Hunter leans against the truck bed in a long-sleeved shirt that clings to his cut chest, giving only the sneakiest peek of the ink winding the dark tan skin at his wrists and neck.
“I’ll wait here.” I bite my lower lip to keep myself from licking it in front of him.
“Finn. Go find her some clothes.” Hunter lets out a breath. “Not really a request. We’re not leaving you alone in our truck.”
“Why not?” It’s not like they care what happens to me.
They don’t want me.
“Knew she’d be fun.” Finn laughs as he slides down to the ground. He disappears, leaving me alone with Hunter, who leans over the edge of the truck bed, watching with hawk eyes. His dark brown hair is cut short on the sides, but the wind teases the longer part on top, making me itch to push it away from his face the longer he keeps looking.
Too intense.
I can’t hide, so I slink until my back hits the cab, curling my knees to my chest, sitting on my hands, and tucking my feet under me so he can’t see the blood.
My stomach rumbles again, cutting the silence like an earthquake.
Hunter curses. “You haven’t eaten since this morning?”
I haven’t eaten in days. “I’ll be fine.”
“We’re not trying to starve you.”
I shrug. There’s never been a day I could eat as much as I want whenever I want. The OCC’s meal plans are expensive. I opted into the lowest tier as soon as I was old enough to realize how much I already owed. Then I was busy ducking omegas who wanted to jump me, skipping the dining hall, skipping meals. The trainers reduced my rations for any little thing from talking back to fighting back when I was cornered. Eventually, I realized hunger was a necessary evil if I wanted to drag out my awakening.
The longer Hunter watches, the tighter I curl into myself.
He’s not just watching me. I feel like he can see my whole dark history and all my secrets.
I wilt under his gaze.
Waaaaay too intense.
Finally, Finn appears, dropping a rumpled wad of cloth into the truck bed.
I chew my lip. I don’t really have to go, right?
“Change,” Hunter orders. There’s no bark, but his deep, husky voice is its own command.
I dig into the bundle.
It’s a skimpy black dress with lace cutouts. The fabric smells like powder detergent or a neutral beta scent, but I catch a whiff of oranges where Finn’s pheromones cling.
I hate myself for wanting to bury my nose in it.
I slip the dress over my swimsuit, then start to figure out how to slide on the matching thigh-high leggings.
“Shit.” Finn clambers into the truck bed, grabbing my ankle. “What happened to your feet?”
They don’t feel that bad, but when he gently turns my foot, even I wince. The bottom’s a sheet of blood, all embedded with dirt and pebbles. “I’ll clean them when we get back.”
“You’ll clean them now,” Hunter growls. “Grab her.”
“Thought you’d never ask.” Finn scoops me up.
All I can do is yelp before I’m ass-up over his shoulder, my face pressed into his lower back. He slides down from the truck bed, gripping me firmly behind the knees.
Finn’s nose bumps my thigh and I feel him sniff me.
A shiver rolls through my body, lighting me up in the most dangerous way. “Put me down!”
“No chance, Babydoll.” Finn pats my calf.
Hunter grabs something from the cab, then locks the truck behind us, and I don’t bother struggling. I need to save my energy.
I can’t see anything but Finn’s tight ass in his jeans.
All I can do is hang, pressed against his heat, trying not to squirm or pant over the lickable strip of lower back muscles revealed when my weight tugs up his shirt. It’s torture sucking in the scent of him, and all I can do is pray I’m too tapped out to perfume.
Finn carries me through a door, and I’m hit with a wall of humidity, noise, and hundreds of foreign scents that make me go rigid.
“Almost there.” Finn rubs the back of my leg, pressing it tight to his chest. His touch shouldn’t be comforting, but we’ve established that I’m broken.
“Put her here,” Hunter says.
There’s a scraping sound before Finn plops me down into a bar chair.
I blink. Finn steals the tall chair next to me and waves for the bartender while Hunter drapes a zip-up hoodie over my shoulders.
His scent soaks the fabric. Honey and smoke and something sharper. I grab the stool to keep myself from dragging the sleeves to my nose.
“What can I do for you tonight, alphas?” A pretty blonde bats her lashes from behind the bar.
“Loaded cheese fries, a plate of wings, and your first aid kit.” Hunter doesn’t even look at the girl, busy zipping the hoodie up to my chin.
I can’t move.
I don’t know if I want to flip up the hood and snuggle into the shirt or rip it off and bolt. Or just give in to the inevitable and jump Hunter so we can skip to the part where the pack tosses me away.
“And two shots of mezcal,” Finn adds, swiveling his chair until his knees pin mine in place.
I’m trapped.
Trapped, but it could be worse.
It’s warm here, they’re being nice, and I heard something about cheese fries.
I can stick this out. All I have to do is keep my perfume tucked in and pretend my inner omega isn’t already bent over and begging for them.
“Here.” The blonde slides a white box across the bar. “I’ll be right back with the drinks and food.”
Hunter pushes Finn out of the way and kneels between my knees.
My body short-circuits
.
Some unspeakable part of me wants to spread my legs wide and see what happens. My self-protective instinct wins. I recoil, hugging my knees tight to my chest.
“Easy,” Hunter says, softly touching my ankle. “You need these taken care of.”
“You don’t have to—”
“But I’m going to.” Hunter draws down my foot, and I feel myself easing under his hands. “Relax.”
I do what he says, letting him take over.
Finn ignores the chaos of the sports bar from the flashing screens to the beautiful betas strutting past in clouds of manufactured pheromone perfume that makes me wrinkle my nose. Bass thumps, women laugh, and alphas growl. Maybe it’s been too long since I’ve eaten, or maybe I finally pushed myself too hard, but everything’s swimmy and unreal.
Finn swivels back and forth in his chair, floating above the chaos while Hunter cleans my cuts, and it feels like the three of us are in our own bubble.
“It’ll hurt,” Hunter warns before dabbing on the disinfectant.
I clench my jaw and don’t let out a peep. I don’t need him thinking I’m any weaker, even though it stings like I’m wearing beehives for slippers.
“Shit. You ran on these?” He scrubs at the dirt, making my muscles clench in protest. “Sorry. There’s gravel we need to get out.”
“I lost my sneakers.” I’ll have to backtrack my steps tomorrow. My only other shoes are a pair of shower sandals held together by duct tape and prayer. “You don’t have to—”
“But I am,” Hunter insists.
By the time he’s dabbing on antibacterial ointment, making me squirm with every gentle touch, the bartender reappears, sliding over a basket of steaming fries and two tiny glasses of murky gold liquor. “Wings’ll be right up.”
“Here.” Finn holds out a fry slathered in cheese and bacon and who knows what else, but it looks outrageous. “Try.” He lifts it to my lips.
Lord help me, I take the bite.
Cheese and potato explode on my tongue, scalding hot, but too fucking delicious to do anything but moan. I’ve never tasted food this good.
“Babydoll.” Finn’s voice is so fucking husky it could pull a sled. “I’ll feed you all night if you keep making those sounds.”
I blush.
I need to stop, but Finn dips a second fry in ranch sauce, and I’m only flesh and blood. I open for him.
He feeds me the fry, fingers lingering on my lips.
When I lick the sauce, my tongue catches a sweet taste of oranges.
I moan, covering my mouth.
So good.
Finn keeps feeding me with a single-minded determination I can’t resist while Hunter wraps my arches in gauze.
One alpha at my feet, another hand-feeding me. I’m pretty sure I should be freaking out, but melty cheddar is some kind of drug. All I want to do is sit and be pampered.
“This next.” Finn presses the shot glass into my fingers.
“What is it?” I sniff the liquor. It smells like liquid smoke, but sweeter.
“Hunter in a glass. He’ll warm you up and make you forget those feet.”
“Finn,” Hunter rumbles a warning. “You can’t make her drink mezcal.”
“What? I’m not making her. Am I making you?”
“No.” He really isn’t. Besides, alcohol is a downer, great for suppressing my pheromones. I’ve never tasted any except for a few sips of champagne at OCC events I snuck into. I liked the little bubbles.
“Cheers.” Finn clinks his glass to mine.
“Cheers?” I dump the shot into my mouth, not waiting to see if he does the same.
It burns.
I clap a hand over my face, almost spluttering, swallowing down the liquid smoke. It’s rich and deep and sweet.
Just like the man between my legs.
“How do you like taking Hunter between those lips?” Finn smirks.
“Delicious,” I answer, still savoring the smoke on my tongue. Then I realize what he said. “I mean. No. Not… That’s not…”
“Ignore Finn. Everyone does.” Hunter stands, closing up the kit.
I wiggle my bandaged toes. Thanks to his magic touch or maybe the liquor burning a hole in my stomach, I feel weirdly comfy and light. “Thank you.”
“Eat more.” Finn holds up another bite, this time a chicken wing I didn’t notice being delivered.
I reach for it. “I can—”
“No way.” He snatches the wing away. “Let me.”
I’m too hungry to argue. He wants to play games, I can play. I need them all to see me as sweet and harmless. I need them to tolerate having me around for as long as it takes to plan my escape.
All the better if they like me. Then we’ll have no drama, and I’ll just hide in their basement until I can disappear.
I nibble the wing and my eyes roll back at the taste of sweet barbecue sauce.
I’ve had worse days.
Twelve
FINN
Our loaner omega makes the sexiest sounds. I keep leaning into her, trying to catch a sniff, but all she smells like is Hunter’s smoke.
She might not be awakened, but when she moans, my cock fucking is. He perks up every time she licks those rosebud lips.
Lilah.
She gives me a high I haven’t felt since I raced my first Ducati or discovered wingsuits. Feeding her, sneaking brushes at her mouth, I can’t even sense the void.
She’s starlight, soft and bright.
Plus Hunter’s fucking face.
He never says shit, but I can read the asshole’s inner workings. Stop touching her, Finn. Don’t get so close. She’s not ours.
I know all this.
But I said from moment one that I wanted to play with her, and that’s what I’m going to fucking do.
If she’d showed up flirting, shaking her tail and trying to pry us away from Orion, then I would’ve just fucked with her.
Lilah’s innocent.
Which—who knew—is even more fun.
She’s hesitant, almost afraid, but why do I love it when she leans into my touch? When she relaxes, accepting the food from my hand with those sweet, sparkling eyes.
“Have another shot.” I push her the glass I didn’t down. I’m still banned from drinking. The pack claims I start too many fights.
Like I won’t start shit sober?
Lilah knocks back the mezcal with an adorable shudder, wrinkling her nose and everything.
“Slow down.” Hunter takes away the empty glass, shooting me the back off glare.
So much fun.
I offer her another wing, but she finally shakes her head. “Too full.”
“Want to dance it off?” Hunter and I were supposed to be cruising for a beta to share, but I’m not letting go of Lilah for some quick bathroom fuck.
“Dance?” Her eyes light like glittering grey stars. “Where?”
“Upstairs. Come on.” I grab her hand, but Hunter grabs my wrist.
“Feet,” he says like a fucking mama duck.
He’s so much more fun when he’s playing with me instead of against me. Tonight, I’m team Lilah.
I scoop her into a princess hold and carry her to the coatroom while Hunter mutters and settles our tab.
“Hey,” I call to the coatroom beta. “You have any lost shoes in a size...”
“Five?” Lilah asks hopefully.
“Just a sec.” She disappears under the counter, then quickly reappears with a tiny pair of silver heels. “Princess shoes for the princess.”
Lilah makes an adorable snort, eyeing the heels so hard it deepens the wrinkles in her nose.
“Let me.” I set her on the counter and step between her legs.
Her pupils dilate and her pulse speeds up. Any second, she’ll wrap her arms around my neck and her thighs around my waist, pressing her tight little body all up against mine…
Only she doesn’t.
Weird.
The girl’s not awakened, but she’s also not dead.
Women can’t love me because there’s nothing in my burned-out soul worth caring about, but I mastered the bad boy asshole thing by fifteen.
They line up to fuck.
I ease Lilah’s bandaged foot into the shoe and carefully tighten the buckles. Her toes are adorable. Like little round pearls. I tweak the smallest one.
“Finn!” she gasps my name.
Fuuuuck, that’s good.
I want to carry her everywhere, but I set her down to let her test the shoe situation. “Okay?”
“Good.” She shifts her weight back and forth. “There’s a club?”
“This way.” I tug her away before Hunter can follow.
Then I carry her upstairs. I’m no gentleman. I just want to grab her hips and feel her body pressed against mine. Lilah’s so goddamned small. I can’t help leaning in to smell her hair.
All I get is lake water and sweat. I know that’s not right.
There should be more. Maybe after she awakens?
For the first time, it’s something to look forward to.
The upstairs bouncer leaps the fuck out of my way without carding. Smart man. Lilah doesn’t notice. Now she’s the one tugging me toward the writhing dancefloor.
She dives straight into the chaos.
My kind of girl.
But when she starts to move, I lose words.
She’s boneless. She moves like the beat is in her blood, like she was born to feel herself. Sexy as fuck, even swimming in Hunter’s too-big hoodie. The hem of her borrowed dress creeps higher and higher, baring the kind of pale, silky thighs you need to spend way more than one night between.
I watch her without blinking, and I’m not the only alpha tracking this sweet piece of prey.
Darkness leeches out my vision.
When an asshole steps too close, like he deserves to touch her skin, breathe her air, I let my dominance bleed. He flinches so hard he sloshes his beer when he flees.
Every single alpha who can’t meet my gaze fucks right off, leaving Lilah alone to shake and wind.
I’m so fucking hard for her.
When the beat slows, turning raunchier, I slip behind her.
She sinks against me, so sweet, so submissively showing me the long, smooth column of her neck.