by Jayce Carter
Tiffany turned. No matter what he said, she wasn’t nervous. She couldn’t be, not with Kane. Sure, she’d made some mistakes in judging people, but not him. He’d been a rock for her, helped her when no one else could, and it seemed he stayed away because he thought it best for her. Hard to be worried about someone like that.
When she laid eyes on him, she realized she’d been wrong.
She should be nervous. Not that he’d hurt her, but that she’d have no defense. He stood tall enough she had to tilt her head to see him, and he was younger than she’d expected. He couldn’t have been older than early twenties. His brown hair was shaved on the sides, the top longer and pushed back. Amber eyes caught the light from the street, intense and hard. A black T-shirt stretched over his chest, tight around his thick biceps, and a pair of blue jeans covered his thighs. From beneath the lines of his shirt, colorful tattoos spread out over his arms. Complete sleeves went from arm to hand, and more ran up his throat, a few drifting up above his jaw. She couldn’t tell in the dim light what the tattoos were of, beyond a few details. Some vines with leaves, an arrow, what she was pretty sure was an eagle or other predatory bird. She wondered if they covered his chest, his stomach, his back. Exactly how far down did they go?
“Don’t do that.” His voice had turned guttural, and it went straight to her cunt.
“Do what?”
“Don’t look at me like that.”
She pulled in a breath and turned her head, trying to get a hold of herself. Maybe his reaction was all physical. He wanted her because he had to, and that was why he fought it.
She understood that pull of something she didn’t want. She’d been ready to beg Randy to fuck her when she’d been mid-heat, no matter how frightened she’d been, no matter how she’d hated him.
That dried up the lust, the thought that Kane might feel the same helplessness. “Sorry,” she said, continuing so he didn’t have a beat to break into the conversation. “Thanks for getting the door, but I’m good if you’d got stuff to do.”
“You think I’m going to turn around and let you walk in there by yourself? Especially since you ain’t said shit about why you’re here?”
She tucked the thumb of her good arm into the pocket of her jeans, trying to look casual. “It’s nothing. I’m trying to get back a sweater my ex took.”
“A sweater? You asked me to look up the holdings of a shadowy company, and you try to break into the building at one in the morning, because your ex took a sweater?” He cocked an eyebrow and rested his hands on his hips. The action made his chest impossibly wider so he took up even more space.
“Sounds like as good a story as any other.” Tiffany offered a mocking salute before turning and stepping into the darkness of the building.
A heartbeat later, his voice startled her, coming from behind her. How the hell was he so silent he could sneak up on her so easily? “I’m not letting you out of my sight, doll. Better get fucking used to having me on your ass.”
Sounds good to me.
Chapter Four
Damn, the girl looked good. He’d had no idea she’d be that fucking pretty. Her light hair was braided but still reached her mid-back. If unbound, he’d bet it would reach to the curve of her ass. Bright blue eyes were framed by long black lashes, far too fucking large and sweet for the things her body made him think.
Black jeans framed her ass, and when she bent forward as she crept down the hallway, he held in a groan. His hands itched to reach out and grab her. He wanted to take her hips in his hands and grind against her. He wanted to strip those jeans off her and slide right into her. Fuck.
He forced himself to stay in control, to not touch her. Standing so close while he’d tried to focus on the lock had tempted him. Worse? The way she smelled. Arousal fit her well.
She hadn’t even fled at the sight of him, but after seeing her?
He didn’t come close to deserving a girl like that. He could see her now, in her perfect fucking house, her perfect life. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a body to die for, but him? Tatted up, a delinquent at the best of times, muscle for hire? Yeah, they didn’t fit.
Not that it shocked him. He’d gotten used to his life, to how he looked, to it all. Never stung quite as much as when he saw her, but everyone had their place in life. His? It was to keep her safe, but not to fuck her, not to have her.
Fine by me.
Besides, her arm? Didn’t that drive up his urges? All of ’em, too. He wanted to fuck her, to strip her down and check her for other injuries. He wanted to fuck up whoever had caused it. Fell my ass. He knew her well enough to know when she was lying, especially because she was terrible at it.
She hadn’t fallen, but he didn’t have a clue past that. He’d be at the hospital the next day looking into it, figuring it out, making sure she wasn’t in any danger.
Well, any more danger. Breaking into a place like this in the middle of the night wasn’t the epitome of safe behavior.
A creaking had him reacting on instinct. He wrapped a hand around her mouth and yanked her against him, going still to listen.
Nothing. Damn, he was too seasoned to jump at every sound like a paranoid child. Still, he’d never had to try to keep someone alive.
Before he removed his hand, once he’d accepted no danger lurked close by, he noticed exactly what was happening.
Tiffany’s lush body was pressed against him, his cock pinned to her lower back, one arm of his wrapped around her to hold her close and the other over her mouth. Her breaths warmed his hand, but he didn’t smell any fear.
No, the girl was on fucking fire. Her pebbled nipples strained against her shirt and begged for his attention. How easy would it be to toy with them? He could slide a thumb against those tempting buds, teasing her, plucking them. Then? It’d be too easy to move that hand over her stomach and into the waist of her pants. He’d find her soaked, and she’d ride his fingers until she was screaming, until the voice he’d heard over the last year broke in gasps and moans around his name.
Her head fell back on his shoulder, like the sweetest surrender.
And that woke him up.
The fuck was he doing?
He’d spent the last year telling himself he couldn’t do this, so what in the hell did he think he was doing?
Kane pulled away, movement slow, awkward, not wanting her to trip backward if he were suddenly gone.
Tiffany straightened, a shudder when her thighs brushed each other, when her shirt shifted over her still erect nipples. Damn, that temptation was too much.
“Look—”
She lifted her hand, palm out. “Don’t. If you’re insisting on coming, let’s go.” She moved away, her gaze anywhere but him.
As much as he hated that look on her face, he reminded himself it was for the best.
She deserved far better than him.
Walking caused the fabric of Tiffany’s pants to rub against her swollen clit. She had no underwear, since they’d been ruined when the doctors had cut off her clothing in the hospital. The jeans and shirt were from Claire, things to hold her over until she got back to her own place the next day. The jeans tugged at her hips, a bit too tight, but she’d made do. Still, each step caused them to stroke against her, to remind her of what she wanted, of what no one wanted to give her.
How do I end up here every damned time?
She had other things to worry about than her lack of sex life, though. Hell, even her desperate clit needed to be ignored right then. She could deal with that later, in privacy, after taking care of the current problems.
They went down the hallway, Kane on her heels, never more than a breath behind her. A scent struck her on the fringes of her mind.
She couldn’t ask Kane. He wouldn’t scent it.
As she moved further into the building, as they took the stairs to the next floor, it strengthened enough to make her sure.
Omega.
Not a lingering whiff, like when she walked into a restaurant and knew another omega
had been there. No, this was strong. The sort of scent that happened when at least a few omegas had spent time there—a lot of time.
“What is it?”
Tiffany didn’t respond, following the trail until she turned a corner and entered a room. The door pushed open, hinges creaking against the movement. Inside, the scent bombarded her.
Fear. Pain. Anger. It all saturated the omega scent, twisted it into something ugly. It drove the air from her lungs.
Kane caught her when her knees buckled, when the scent overwhelmed her. “Fuck,” he snapped, hauling her against him. A slow inhalation and he snarled. He wouldn’t smell the omega, but he’d sure as hell smell the rest. It had soaked into the walls.
She pulled in a full breath when he helped her back into the hallway, when he let her sink to the floor. Tiffany smoothed her hands over her hair to ease the tension. Instinct took one whiff of that room and told her to get the hell out of there, that danger lurked.
“That room’s been empty at least a week.” He rubbed his hand over her back, slow motions from shoulder to tailbone. “That what you were expecting to find?”
She shook her head, which hung down. “Not exactly.”
“Well, about now is the fucking time you to tell me what you were looking for. Because this shit? This is ugly, and I need to know what it is you’re after before it bites us both in the ass.”
A hard swallow kept her from throwing up. The room smelled like she had smelled after Randy had drugged her. It reminded her of how helpless she’d been, of the snap and tearing pain when her shoulder had pulled from its socket.
Is that what they’d suffered? She smelled no heat, but that was almost worse. It meant nothing had dulled the pain for them, nothing had eased it. They’d endured each spark of terror, each movement with no reprieve, nothing to dull the reality.
Kane’s hand went to the back of her neck, a heavy weight. “Come on, now. Girl I know doesn’t have panic attacks.”
“Girl you knew hadn’t been drugged and attacked, yet.” Just the words threatened her, but she pushed them down.
No. She wasn’t there. She wasn’t the trapped omega in this room. No matter what Randy had tried to do, he’d failed. She was free, and he was dead.
The reminder helped her swallow and regain her equilibrium, at least until she met Kane’s gaze.
Fury filled those eyes, the sort of threat that signaled someone’s death. “The fuck are you talking about?” His gaze moved to her arm. “So, you didn’t fall, did you?”
She shook her head, unable to force a word through her tight throat.
“Where’s the fucker now?” The words came out in a rumble so low she had trouble understanding them.
“Dead.” Saying that eased the tightness in her chest. He was dead, and from her understanding, he hadn’t died an easy death. Claire had torn his throat out, and he’d deserved nothing less. “He’s dead.”
Kane’s gaze moved over her, slow and possessive. “He hurt you?”
“Not like you mean. It’s fine, really. I…” She breathed slowly. “The smell in there, it reminded me of it. Guess maybe trying to run off the next day was stupid, huh?”
His face softened, shoulders lowering. “This just happened? Doll, the fuck are you doing out here?”
“I didn’t want to stay still. I felt helpless sitting in that damned house. Trapped, again, and I couldn’t do it, couldn’t sit there all night on my own.”
“Should have called me.”
“I did.” The smile she offered was weak, but hell, it was all she had energy for.
“I mean to talk, not to break into shit. Where are you staying? Not alone, right?”
She drew herself to her feet, using her good hand for leverage. “No. Not on my own for a while.” At his look, she continued. “Seems my past came back to get me. To avoid being registered, I have to stay with an alpha for a year for some bullshit training.”
“And the first thing you do is sneak out to break into a place like this? Ah, fuck, you are so my kind of girl. I’m thinking you might not be acing the whole training shit.” His laughter drew hers. Not a chuckle, not something little, but a full laugh that had her gasping for air at the end.
Which, she’d needed. She’d needed a normal moment of fun more than she’d needed a meal or medication. She’d needed a second of ‘life could still be okay.’
“Well, let’s finish looking around, then I’m making sure your ass gets back where you should be. Don’t need you pulling any more stunts like this.”
“Don’t try to complain. Imagine how boring your night would have been without me.” She moved forward and felt his gaze on her ass like a caress.
“Pretty fucking boring,” he growled out.
Tiffany moved through the upper level, glad the scent of omega had lessened. Seemed they’d been kept on the second floor, twelve if she counted right. Each locked in a different room, alone. No blood, no struggles, a dirty mattress and the lingering scent. What had happened to them? She’d expected to find something, but not that. The place was on the books of a company that kept coming up in connection with missing omegas. She’d thought she’d find a clue, but nothing so overwhelming as this. The whole reason she’d come was because of what Kane had found on it.
A desk drawer rattled as she closed it, searching for something. Not that any of it meant a thing to her. After finding no sign of anyone else, Kane had left her to her own work, choosing to look in the rooms smelling of omegas instead. It didn’t affect him like it did her, so she counted herself lucky. Plus, some space was a good thing. It gave her the chance to take a breath and regroup.
That helped. As it turned out, Kane was even more overwhelming in person.
Over the phone he’d been funny, charming in an odd way, tempting, but none of that was close to how he was in person. In person, his eyes bore into her. The width of his shoulders and the stroke of his voice was more than she trusted herself to resist.
She didn’t want to resist it.
Rejection wore on her. Playing it safe hadn’t helped anyone else. Claire had suffered, and she’d always played it safe. Every omega she knew who played it safe still lost. What was the point?
If she was going to get taken out, she’d damn well do what she wanted before then.
And what she wanted was sex.
That sounds shallow. Maybe it was. However, she was nineteen and her instincts had pulled at her for years. She wanted to press her thighs into the hips of another person, wanted to feel something more than her fingers spreading her open. She needed it, waking up drenched from dreams that never quenched that thirst.
No matter what she did, it never seemed to work out. She’d taken her time, been cautious around alphas. No need to be stupid. Still, those she’d been forced near had pulled away. Kieran. Kane. Even Marshall had all but run out of the room at the slightest sign of her wanting him.
After yet another dead-end, she stepped back from the desk. No computer, shelves empty, most things gone. Seemed when they left, they’d done so in a hell of a hurry.
She headed for the stairs, ready to catch up with Kane on the next floor down.
When she turned the corner into the hallway, however, she ran into a large chest that did not belong to Kane.
The scream from upstairs had Kane moving before it had fully stopped. It didn’t sound like and sound from Tiffany he’d ever heard.
His feet ate up the distance as he took the stairs two at a time. He shouldn’t have left her alone. There hadn’t been any sign of anyone else in the building, however, and he’d need to check the rooms the omegas had been kept in. The scent had played havoc with Tiffany, but he’d hoped to gather some information from the dark rooms.
At that moment, though, he cursed the choice. Tiffany was impulsive, never understood the danger to herself, never cared. She threw herself into situations without thinking, and while he’d enjoyed that spark, it now terrified him.
He turned the last landing of
the stairs to find Tiffany and a man dressed in black. She brought her knee up and into the man’s junk, and the grunt that came out had Kane wanting to hold his jewels in sympathy. The man stumbled backward, then turned when a low snarl spilled from Kane.
Seemed the coward only beat on women, since a single look in Kane’s direction sent him running toward Tiffany. He used his bulk to knock her to the side, her head cracking against the wall. He moved fast, but fuck if there wasn’t a limp to his gait.
The desire to chase rose up, the need to track the fucker down. Tiffany’s body on the floor smothered it, though.
Kane dropped to a crouch beside her. He tilted her face up and checked her eyes. “You’re always getting into trouble, doll.”
She smiled, a dribble of blood from her re-split lip running down to her chin and to his fingers. “It’s part of my charm.”
“No doubt.” He didn’t wait for an offer, didn’t ask, but hefted her up beside him. He’d have rather carried her, but he had no idea if the man was still there, and Kane wouldn’t risk being encumbered. So, he slid an arm beneath her good shoulder to help her up.
A yank from her sent her back to the ground.
“We’ve got to go, doll.”
She nodded, but she only slid her hand along the floor, beneath a box. “He dropped something.” When she pulled her hand out, a silver necklace hung on a long chain from her fingers.
“The fuck is that?”
She wrapped her fingers around it, then brought it closer to her face. “It’s a necklace, and it smells like an omega.” Her lips tipped down before she stuffed it into her pocket. “It must have belonged to one of the omegas they kept here. I can’t believe he’d steal it.”
Kane grasped her good arm and hauled her to her feet. “Whatever the fuck it is, it doesn’t matter right now. Let’s get out of here.”
No sign of the other asshole through the building, nor when he got her into his car.
“What about my car?”