by Rina Kent
And Shadow.
Of course a scum like President Joe will have someone like Johnny as his second in command.
Finally free, Natalie steps away. She gives me an unsure look, tears streaming down her cheeks. I nod and she flees out of the storeroom.
Johnny yanks me forward by the arm. A tightness forms at the bottom of my stomach and sweat beads on my brows. I can almost feel the rush of adrenaline for a panic attack.
I swallow and smile at Johnny. “What did you want to know?”
“Well, babe.” A thick finger traces from my temple to my cheek, leaving disgusting trails in its wake. “I wanna have a good partnership with these arseholes, but we can’t catch a weakness on them. Maybe you can help with that?”
I place a hand on his chest. My docile, flirty act is on, but all I’m fantasising about is to ruin his scarred face some more. “What do I get in return?”
He grips both my shoulders and squeezes so hard, pain explodes under the skin. “Your head will stay on these pretty shoulders. How about that?”
I swallow the bite of pain and grin. It’s in my benefit to help him, but if I do that without asking for something in return, Johnny will find it suspicious that I’m betraying Le Salon without something that benefits me.
“They’ll kill me if they find out. I was hoping for a better salary if I come to work at your club.” I pause and deliver a final stroke to his ego. “I heard you’re the one with the most power and therefore the only one who can help me.”
A smug look takes over his face. “I can see to that, babe.” His harsh features return. “Now, speak.”
“Here’s what I know.” I pretend to play with the zipper of his leather jacket. “If you want to strike any deal, avoid when Shadow is around. You will have a better chance if you appeal to Mist and Ghost. They’re more rational and they don’t want a war. It’s Shadow that keeps destroying the deal.”
His lips curve in that sadistic smile. “So I should chop off his head?”
My chest squeezes at the thought. Why the hell would I care whether or not Shadow lives? It’s stupid really. People are ought to be scared of him, not the other way around. Johnny will be six feet under before he can even put a hand on him.
I maintain my flirty tone. “It’s up to you, but killing him can make your case with his companions harder.”
“Is that so?” He runs the same thick finger down my cheek. “What do you suggest then?”
I swallow the disgust, and thousand ideas whirl in my head to make this appear like Johnny’s thought. He has lots of ego and it’s the perfect weapon to use against him.
“I don’t know.” I pretend to be dumb. “But Shadow leaves before closing hours. When he isn’t here…”
His eyes sparkle with recognition. “I'll bring President Joe behind Shadow’s back and make Mist and Ghost an offer they can’t refuse.”
Phew!
“You’re a genius!” I massage his shoulders even though nausea is threatening to take me over.
Johnny offers me a smug, condescending look. The bloke must really believe the idea is all his.
The door barges open. I flinch and then freeze when I meet those overcast eyes. They’re darkening into a storm threatening to take everyone in sight.
For someone who pretended I was invisible, he sure has his attention on me now. His threatening gaze darts from Johnny to his finger on my cheek and my hands on his shoulders.
Still keeping his punishing gaze on us, Shadow calls in a restrained voice. “Lachlan, show Johnny the exit.”
Lachlan strides towards us with purpose. Before he reaches us, Johnny leans close and whispers in my ear, “we'll be seeing a lot of each other, babe.” He makes a disgusting show of licking my neck.
I squirm from the disgust, but before I can do anything, Johnny is yanked away from me. I expected Lachlan, but somehow, Shadow beats his guard and he’s holding Johnny by the collar as if he’s a dirty, disgusting pig. He continues glaring at him with that same robotic stare he had when he held a knife to my throat at Nonna’s.
The killer version.
Lachlan takes hold of Johnny, and something tells me he saved him from whatever Shadow was planning to do to him.
Johnny wiggles free from Lachlan’s hold. “I can walk on my own.”
He strides out leisurely. I make out Nat’s curls from the threshold. She jerks to the corner when Johnny passes her by. Her view is obscured when Lachlan closes the door behind them.
My attention snaps back to the gloomy, taller-than-life presence looming over me. Shadow stares down at me with dark, poisonous energy that suffocates any air I have in my lungs.
“You fucked up big time, beautiful.”
Chapter Ten
Fear.
It’s my own type of Omega. A trigger of my dopamine haze. A bloody addiction.
And it’s loud and clear on Zoe’s pale face. She’s usually so forthcoming and brave. She’s the type who’d risk having her throat slit to protect others – fucking foolish if you ask me.
But now, she’s scared. No, she’s terrified. She keeps drawing stuttering breaths. Her round tits fall and rise heavily. The blue-green shit of her eyes widens to the brightest, most frightened colour.
I smell and taste her fear in the air surrounding us. Maybe it’s what causes me to see fucking red. Or maybe it’s because she was glued to that bastard Johnny while he licked her.
Or both.
Zoe does the smart choice of breaking eye contact. If she keeps demonstrating her fear, I’ll break her fucking neck.
I clench and unclench my fists as I fight the pull of Omega. I might have taken a bigger dose than Ghost and the others today.
And yesterday.
And the day before that.
It’s only to forget, I told myself. Omega is a bitch, but Omega takes it all away. Omega brings a numbness and forbids us from thinking about ourselves.
I need that, because whenever I look in the mirror, I see a monster. That monster disappears when I take Omega.
Zoe lowers her head and tries to sidestep me. Her reaction is a hundred times different from when I held a knife to her throat. At least then, she stared me straight in the eyeballs and actually made me feel regret. She still has a plaster on her neck as a reminder.
I clutch her arm and yank her back, harder than intended, because I have lower awareness of my power when I’m on Omega.
Her shoulder blades hit the shelves, and she winces. A box falls and I punch it away. The bottles inside crush into pieces and amber liquid soaks the box and pours onto the flooring.
“What the fuck were you doing, Zoe?”
There’s brief defiance – or foolishness – as she stares at me. Something inside me rages to life. Whenever she challenges me, I want to hurt her and fuck her senseless. At the same time.
She tips her chin. “Whatever I do is none of your business.”
The image of that scum Johnny licking her like a fucking parasite blinds my vision. “I thought we hired a waitress, not a whore.”
She swings her fist and slams it in my cheek. Hard. It barely hurts. That’s Omega. I can bleed to death, but I probably won’t feel the pain.
“You have no right to call me that!” She’s yelling, but it’s plagued with tremors and a deep, raw fear.
“Keep it up, beautiful.” I grin. “Taunt me, provoke me, and then show me that fucking fear and you’ll end up on the list of people who disappeared without a trace.”
Her red lips part. “You’re a monster.”
“And now you’re in the sights of this monster.” I approach her until not only I smell her fear but also some fruit perfume. There’s a slight tremor in her limbs, but Zoe keeps her ground and continues glaring at me.
There. The look that cut me deep at Nonna’s.
That look makes me want to dissect her, break her, and put her back together just so I can do it all over again. There’s no limit to all the things I want to do to her. Starting with those cr
imson lips.
I would say I’m sorry, only I’m not. She’s provoking me more than I care to tolerate. Not that I tolerate fucking much.
First, she has a bloody boyfriend who’s pussy enough to send her to work at a place like Le Salon. And now, Johnny.
Women – or people, in general – fear me and run. That’s been it for my entire life and on fucking repeat.
Zoe isn’t running away.
This blondie with the huge green gates is glaring at me head on even when she’s obviously scared.
That’ll be her doom. She should’ve run away. Those who do stay alive. She’s the only one who’s not running, and I want to bloody ruin her for it.
I cup her jaw. Her skin is soft and I have the urge to stroke it and learn every curve. “Dump the boyfriend. From today onwards, you’re mine.”
Those fuckable red lips part, but she soon clamps them shut and puffs her chest. “I’ll never be yours.”
“You work here and therefore, you’ll be whatever I fucking say you are.”
“No. I won’t.” She keeps her ground without as much as a blink.
“Because of your boyfriend?”
He’s such a fucking pussy. I might have been fantasising about killing him since she shot me down at the park. If I were him, I’d chain her to my bed, not send her somewhere where men can ogle her freely.
“What if it is?”
“You certainly didn’t care about the sorry fuck when you were all over Johnny.” I mock.
“Even if there wasn’t a boyfriend or Johnny, I’d never look at someone like you twice.”
“And why is that, beautiful?”
“Sure you got the looks, but on the inside, you’re nothing more than an empty monster who likes throwing his weight around for no reason other than you can.” She sighs with genuine sympathy. “I pity you.”
My lips move into an automatic smirk, but my vision darkens, and my grip on her jaw tightens. She whimpers and tries to struggle free. I slam my palm near her head, and the bang echoes around us.
I’m sure she sees the shift on my face because her lips press in a line and she stares up at me with fearful eyes.
“Keep it up, Zoe,” I say through my smirk. “The more you open that mouth, the more I think about fucking it.” I pause. “Let’s try it now, shall we? On your knees.”
She tries to wiggle from my grasp. I close in on her to keep her caged in place. She punches me in the gut and manages to slip from underneath my arm. Bloody fucking hell. She’s strong. Those are the movements of someone who had training.
The familiar rush of adrenaline fill my limbs. She might have the training, but nothing is a match for Omega.
Zoe darts towards the door, I clutch her by the hips from behind, pull her back, and swing her around. She yelps and thrashes while hitting my shoulder. It’s useless when her feet aren’t even touching the ground.
Her cheeks turn bright red. “Let me go or I'll scream the whole place down!”
“I told you.” I glue my lips to her ear and whisper, “I love the screaming.”
Her pupils dilate and her chest rises and falls with abandon as if she’s out from a marathon. Her tits push against the dress, drawing my attention to their perfect fullness.
She doesn’t stop struggling, but it isn’t so forceful. “There’s something wrong with you.”
“Oh, I know.” My tongue darts out and I lick her earlobe before nibbling on the soft flesh. A deep-throated moan rips from her like it’s been forever since she moaned so freely.
The monster in me breathes to life at the thought that anyone had her like this and all I see is blood red.
My mouth finds the spot that cockroach Johnny licked and I bite. Hard. Zoe screams, but that’s not all she does. Her own teeth find my collarbone and she bites back, breaking the skin. It doesn’t hurt much, but I believe in an eye for a fucking eye.
I sink my teeth into the soft skin of her neck until the metallic taste fills my mouth and blood smears my lips.
My dick springs to life when red mars her pale skin.
She shrieks and pushes me away until my back hits some box. Her hand covers the wound on the side of her neck. Blood trickles down to her collarbone like an artistic masterpiece. Her earlier wound is still covered in a plaster. In the span of a week, I marked her twice.
Huh.
Zoe is stunned for a moment as she stares at her crimson-coated fingers. She tries to hide it, I give her that, but nothing, absolutely nothing can hide how her nipples peak against her dress and how her pupils dilate.
Well, well, well. Looks like little miss trouble has a dark side.
She tucks that side as quickly as it showed and cuts me a glare. “You freak!”
I touch my neck and show her evidence of what she did. “You drew my blood first. Karma is a bitch and I hold grudges.”
She attacks me in a Kamikaze kind of way, but her posture is professional. Her kick aims at my diaphragm. I’m momentarily distracted by her sublime posture and the flashing of black lace knickers. Her kick knocks the breath out my lungs.
My erection strains against my jeans until it’s fucking painful. I always loved some struggle.
Thinking she’s at a momentum, Zoe lunges at me with a punch. I cage it in a fist and wrestle her to the ground. Her back hits the floor and I’m over her soft, tiny curves. She squirms and tries to roll on top. The struggle goes on for long minutes. Neither of us wants to let go, and I find myself holding back to not crush her.
Maybe Omega isn’t in complete control after all.
“You’re crazy!” She attempts to wiggle free from underneath me, but I yank both her wrists and slam them on the ground above her head.
I grin and speak through heavy breaths. “So are you, beautiful.”
“I’m going to kill you,” she grits out.
I lean in and lick the blood trickling down her translucent skin until I taste metal. “You can try.”
Her breathing deepens and her pulse jumps beneath my tongue. The clenching of her thighs is enough evidence that she can’t hide her reaction to how much she secretly likes this.
I press my erection to the bottom of her stomach. She freezes and her lips part. Nothing can erase the deep lust in her eyes.
“Keep it up, Zoe. The harder you struggle, the more you’ll have to take care of this.”
“You’re sick.” She pants between groans. “Completely fucking sick.”
She attempts to close her thighs. I yank them apart and rest my knee near her sex. My movements freeze and I stare at her reddening face and quick intake of air. Even though it’s through the jeans, I can smell her arousal and it hits straight to my dick.
I grin. “Looks like someone else is so fucking sick.”
She writhes sideways.
I pin her down by tightening my hold on her wrists. I yank her dress up her waist and trail my eyes over her smooth, pale, and delicate skin. My mind goes rampant with the million ways I can mark her and bind her to me. I cup her through her soaked knickers. She moans, eyes rolling to the back of her head.
My voice comes out hoarse and raspy. “Stop acting high and mighty and admit that you’re as filthy as me.”
The fire in her green eyes almost incinerates me. “Never.”
The fucking…
I rub her moisture over the cloth with intentional slowness and press my thumb against her clit until she releases needy sounds.
“Shadow…”
“You will admit it?”
“N-no…”
“Hmmm.” I pretend to be unfazed while my dick begs to stake claim inside her – especially since she’s soaked and ready. However, she needs to stop the stubbornness.
I’m going to break her defiance and then her fucking pity. I’ll ruin everything.
I keep teasing her clit with slow measured rubs. It’s fucking torture for both of us, but I don’t stop. Not when my cock nears exploding out of my jeans. Not when her back arches and she keeps calling my n
ame in a plea.
Her entire body is flushed and under my fucking mercy.
My forefinger slips beneath her undies. The moment my skin touches hers, she moans so loud, I almost blow in my trousers like a bloody teenager.
Her lids screw shut. I stop but don’t remove my hand. “Look at me. You don’t get to hide, beautiful.”
She does open her eyes, but they’re filled with lust and raw defiance. I recognise her need to fight before she even moves. It’s a mirror of my own sick fantasies.
I let her kick me because it turns me fucking on like I’m sure it has the same effect on her.
Her head hits mine. Pain throbs in my forehead, and I’m sure it hurts her a lot worse. She winces and shoves me away, and we roll so I’m on my back. I grab a handful of her hips. She yanks on my hair. I pull her down so my lips are inches away from hers while she straddles my stomach. I breathe her in. Her fight. Her glares. That pure fucking lust.
“I’m going to fuck that bitchiness out of you, beautiful.” I try to flip her down.
She squirms free and to her feet. A gleam shines in her eyes. “I’d like to see you try, arsehole.”
I hop up and clutch her uppercut. I place my hands on her shoulders and shove her down on her knees. “Let’s start with that mouth.”
She attempts to stand, but I effortlessly pin her down with a hand while the other fumbles with my belt.
I’m done playing.
“Don’t!” She shouts, and when her eyes meet mine, they’re no longer shining with defiance, lust or even fear.
She’s under a panic attack like the other time.
“Not on my knees!” Her hysterical shout breaks into a barely audible whisper as if she’s pleading with me. “Not on my knees…”
I let go of my trousers. She’s panicking because of the position? My vision turns black when her eyes rim with tears. Fucking hell. She was wrestling me like a champion seconds ago but now, she looks like a broken doll.
I bloody hate that.
Omega’s haze is substituted by something a lot worse. Rage. All I think about is that I need to cut open whoever caused her to be like this. I need their screams, their dead gazes, and their blood.
The idea of killing for someone else is a first for me, but Zoe already snatched away a lot of firsts.