"It was in the back of that pile-of-crap van you crashed at Evander's."
Wait. Her car was here? Faith sucked in a breath as she absorbed the news. Maybe she could leave after all.
"It won't work, you know," Troy said casually before she'd even completed the thought.
"What won't?"
He looked up from rifling through her things. Even from across the room, she felt him assessing her with his piercing blue eyes, as though she'd disappointed him. "You won't be able to escape in that hunk of junk."
"I wasn't—"
"Yes, you were," he interrupted. "Don't lie to me, Faith. First of all, you're terrible at it, and second, I can always sense the truth. You ought to try to remember that—for your own good."
Faith stopped with her hand on the back of the sofa. He was right—she should have known. She tried to drum up some that fiery rage she'd felt earlier, but it had lost its power, almost as if it had silently escaped from a hidden leak without her even noticing. The best she could manage seemed to be a sort of resigned annoyance.
"That 'hunk of junk' got me here, didn't it?" she said. "I don't see why it couldn't get me home again."
Troy rolled his eyes in disgust, returning his attention to the contents of her suitcase. "You'd be lucky to make it to the Central Road before the fuel pump gave out. And besides, you're an omega. Your nature won't allow you to stray too far from an alpha."
An alpha…
Faith zeroed in on the technicality. "Not far from any alpha?"
Troy stilled, his shoulders going rigid. "You think you'd be happier with one of my brothers?"
It was clear that he didn't like the question.
But what was really strange was that Faith didn't like it either. In fact, she wished she could take it back.
Alphas were terrifying, mystifying, threatening men. She remembered her first glimpse of them, the night she'd arrived. There had been three alphas present, but only Troy had elicited a response in her other than fear—even before he'd touched her.
Even now, she couldn't explain what exactly that response had been, only that it came from a place in her so deep it must have always been there.
Her nature.
Had she not come here, it might have always been dormant. But if what her body was telling her was true, even if another of those alphas had triggered her awakening, she still would have ended up in Troy's arms.
She considered the other alpha she'd met today—Maddox, her sister's captor. He appeared to be every bit as strong as Troy, every bit as virile. But nothing about him, not his dark, smoldering features or his rough-timbred voice, stirred the emotions she felt with Troy.
His words hadn't released butterflies in her stomach. His growl didn't increase the temperature of her blood. His gaze didn't coax any embarrassing slick between her legs.
Only Troy did any of that.
"No." Faith dropped her gaze when she answered, unable to muster a lie. She would not prefer another alpha. She was only surprised that he questioned it.
When she finally dared look back up, the tension had left Troy, and he'd gone back to digging through her suitcase.
"That's my stuff," Faith said, moving to face him across the counter. "You can't just go through it like that. It's private."
Troy looked down at the clothes bunched in his fists. "Apparently, I can. Why do you care? There's nothing here but more of these ridiculous dresses. They're all the same."
"My clothes are not ridiculous," Faith said, her face burning as she snatched the garments out of his hands. "They are modest, which is something you don't know the first thing about."
Troy didn't fight her. Instead, he crossed his arms and watched her trying to refold the dresses, amusement sparkling in his eyes. "Jeans and T-shirts are modest. Those are shapeless, ugly sacks meant to hide your body and make you indistinguishable from everyone else in your cult."
Faith's eyes narrowed. She'd heard the church maligned this way plenty of times before, and her response was swift and instinctual. "The Church of the Beta Way is not a cult."
Troy laughed and leaned back against the butcher-block kitchen island. "The Church of the what?"
"Beta Way," Faith said, lifting her chin proudly. "We are followers of God's true plan for his people."
"Is that right?" Troy asked lazily.
"Which part don't you believe in? God or his plan?"
"I don't believe in any of it," Troy said. "But I also don't usually give a shit what anyone else believes."
"Usually?"
"Yep. The problem is when they start talking about the one true plan as if they could possibly have the answers to the unknowable. Or when they demonize other people just because they don't think like them. Or weren't born like them. That shit never leads anywhere good."
Faith felt her convictions falter a little. "So…what do you believe in?... Nothing?"
"No. I believe in what I can sense. What I can touch. What I can see. What's standing right in front of me."
He came around the counter to stand in front of Faith and traced his fingers down the length of her arm. A trail of goosebumps sprung up in their wake. She tried to hold on to her irritation, but it was nearly impossible when he touched her. His dark magic swept all emotions away except the most primal—like the longing that caught fire in her belly.
"But you believe in sin, don't you?" she said, trying to cover the quaver in her voice. "Wouldn't you have to, since alphas are the offspring of the devil?"
Troy smirked, refusing to rise to the bait. "I suppose you learned that from your church too. Tell me, what else did they teach you about us?"
Faith pressed her lips together and shook her head. "Why should I tell you? You'd just make fun of me."
Troy shook his head. He rested his hands on her shoulders and let her squirm under their weight for a moment before slowly letting his fingertips drift down her arms, tracing lazy designs through the thin fabric of her dress until he reached her hands.
"Tell me," he said, abandoning the smirk. "I won't make fun of you. I really want to know."
His touch had taken Faith's resistance, leaving her unable to deny him. "They teach that you are the descendants of the fallen angels, who consorted with beta women and spawned a bloodline of cursed giants."
"So that's why you keep calling me the devil," he said evenly.
"Well, technically, you're just a devil," Faith clarified. "Not the devil. That's different."
"I see. And what did they tell you about omegas?"
Abruptly, the fire that Troy's touch had kindled inside Faith evaporated, leaving her feeling empty and desolate. She stared at the floor rather than answer.
"That bad?" Troy said quietly.
Faith nodded. There was no way that she could express how bad. A single omega was more evil than all the alphas in the world put together. Alphas might be devils—but at least they hadn't chosen their path. They hadn't asked to be born cursed.
But omegas? They were different because they chose their fate. Despite all the warnings, they sought out alphas and allowed them to touch them. Omegas only existed because they willingly invited a life of wickedness and sin.
For that reason, they were below contempt, reviled more than all others.
And now Faith was one.
She could try to deny it. She could go back to yelling at Troy and calling him terrible names. She could threaten vengeance on every alpha she ever met, but it wouldn't change what she was.
A fallen woman. A sinful disgrace.
Faith tried to turn away as she felt the tears welling up in her eyes, but Troy wouldn't allow it. He gripped her shoulders and forced her to look at him.
"Listen to me, Faith," he growled. "Those fuckers lied to you."
"No, they didn't." If being an omega wasn't innately wrong, then why did she feel so much shame? Why did she feel the indelible mark of irredeemable sin? "This is my punishment for disobeying my parents and running away."
"You ran awa
y?" Troy seemed surprised—and intrigued.
"I had to. There was no other way. No one else cared about what had happened to Hope, so I stole the pastor's gun and my father's van, and I came on my own."
Troy crooked his finger under her chin and lifted it up, his expression more serious than Faith had ever seen it. "There's nothing wrong with you. There's nothing wrong with us."
"But—"
"No buts," he said. "You've had to listen to that bullshit all your life. Now you're going to listen to me for a while. You call what I believe in sin, but you're wrong. The pleasure we both feel when we touch is the closest thing to heaven there is."
Faith shook her head. "Don't blaspheme."
"I'm not. I'm deadly serious." Troy pulled her into his arms, his hands stroking her back. The warmth of his body started to thaw the shame inside her. "Tell me what this feels like."
Faith closed her eyes as his lips met hers, gently at first, then more insistently. The heat of his lips, the taste of his tongue, the strength of his arms around her—all of the sensations combined inside Faith's chest and stirred the embers of her desire, sparks catching and flames licking. The fire spread down through her arms and legs until the tips of her fingers and toes crackled with energy.
She was left breathless when Troy finally pulled back.
"How did that kiss make you feel?" he asked. "And remember, I'll know if you're lying."
Faith struggled to find the words to describe what she was feeling, but there were simply too many layers, too many emotions swirling together. Eventually, however, she thought of a single word that summed up the experience.
"Alive."
Troy growled in approval. "That's exactly right. Touching each other doesn't make our lives worse in any way. It's all good. It's heaven."
Faith caught her breath at his use of a word that represented a sacred part of her religion—but as she thought about it, she realized he was right.
When they touched, she forgot all of her apprehension, objections, and conflict between her beliefs and desires. Tension and torment vanished, replaced by pleasure…even ecstasy.
He was right. It was remarkably similar to what she had always thought heaven must be like.
Faith felt as though she could no longer be sure of anything. When Troy was this close to her, when his touch lit the fire in her blood, she no longer knew what she believed. Being with him had a way of making all the things Faith knew fly away, of making her question everything she had accepted as truth.
And her confusion only grew as he pulled his shirt over his head, his bare chest more temping than ever in the firelight's warm glow.
"What do you want, Faith?" Troy asked quietly. "To go back to people who will curse and despise you, or to stay here with me?"
Faith's heart fluttered, her thoughts splintering like a drift of confetti. She balled her hands into fists, trying desperately to resist the urge to touch all that gorgeous bare skin in front of her. To feel his heat. To soak in his strength.
To give in completely and accept him deep within her body.
Troy must have sensed her hesitation because he didn't wait for her answer, just lifted her hand and placed it against his chest. Her fingers slowly relaxed into his warmth and unfurled against him, feeling the strong and steady beat of his heart.
The heart of an alpha, yes—but a man, not a devil.
A man different from every other she had ever known. A man who made her feel things she never knew were possible.
"Tell me what you want, Faith," he repeated.
And just like that, she was lost.
"You," she whispered. "I want you."
His reaction was immediate. Troy lifted her up and carried her to his bed, tracing a path Faith remembered deep in her soul, the same path they'd taken their first time. There was no fog clouding her mind now, no overwhelming rush of hormones that she could blame her lust on.
Faith had chosen this.
Now she could only pray that her choice was the right one.
It felt more than right when Troy laid her down on the edge of his bed—it felt natural. As though their lives were destined to lead to this moment. As though they'd been made for each other.
When Troy peeled off her dress, Faith lifted her arms, urging him to hurry. When he kicked off his pants, the first hot rush of slick gushed out of her.
For the first time, she didn't try to hold it back. Instead, she watched his eyes darken to navy as he drank in the change in her scent.
Sliding his hands between her knees, Troy spread her legs and bent to lower his head between them.
Faith tensed. This was still so new, so unfamiliar. Maybe if they stuck with the things she'd already known men and women did together, she could work up to…the other things.
"Troy, you don't have to—"
"Sweetness, I know I don't have to do a goddamn thing," he said, raising his head to grin at her. "But, you can't tempt me with all this honey and not expect me to take a taste."
Faith sucked in a breath as his tongue swiped up the length of her thigh until he reached her opening—and she found herself aching with need.
"Your pussy might make me believe in God after all," Troy muttered before plunging his tongue between her private lips and finding her secret spot again.
Faith tried to stifle her own sounds of pleasure, despite the sizzling sensations that shot through her. But as he laved and stroked her in all the ways he'd done before and then some, she couldn't contain her cries any longer, until he brought her to a release that was far too sweet to be cursed.
While she was still feeling the echoing waves of her orgasm, Troy moved above her.
"Tell me you want it," he said. "Tell me you want me."
"I do," she gasped.
But that wasn't enough to satisfy Troy. He growled and lifted her hips up off the bed as though she weighed nothing. This time when Faith wrapped her legs around him, her wet opening brushed against the head of his shaft. She looked up and sucked in a breath at the predatory look in his eyes.
“You'll have to do better than that," he growled. "I want to hear all your nasty thoughts, the things you think when you're about to come. Let me hear you say you want my cock. Let me see your angel mouth telling me all your dirty secret desires."
Faith blanched, but she couldn't stave off the fever inside her building again. It was as though his commands were doing the opposite of what they ought to.
Instead of feeling shame, she felt excitement. Instead of pulling back in revulsion, her body reacted by gushing and trembling and aching for him.
But he couldn't expect her to say those things out loud. It was too much. She tried to rock her hips up against his cock, to steal the pleasure he was keeping from her. But Troy resisted, clamping his hand on her hip to keep her from moving.
"Say it," he demanded.
Faith's breath escaped in a rush, and she admitted everything. "I want your cock so bad it hurts. Please fuck me, Troy. Please."
She had time only to see the heat in his smile before he plunged into her, the entire length of him in a single stroke. The shock of his brute force immediately gave way to raging need, and Faith's head fell back as she lost herself in the rhythm of their two bodies.
Troy didn't deny her again. He guided her up and down the length of his cock with his hands on her hips, starting slow and growing faster and more urgent every time.
She ground against him, desperate to feel his touch on her special spot, the place whose purpose she'd never understood until now. She couldn't wait for Troy to give her pleasure, not anymore—she wanted to take it for herself. To give it back to him.
The fire inside her blazed out of control, sweat forming on her brow and her cries growing hoarse and insistent as she bucked and clawed and begged for more.
She crested the peak over and over again, calling out Troy's name every time she broke—so many times she lost count.
Each time strengthened the invisible bond between them and b
eat back the harsh teachings of her church until she almost started to believe what Troy had said about this being heaven. Maybe, just maybe, this was meant to be—and would last for all eternity.
Then she felt Troy stiffen. He propped his hand against the wall for support as she felt the ecstasy of his knot swelling inside her, binding them together in the most primal way.
A strange need came over Faith, one so urgent that she didn't bother trying to understand it. And yet it was shocking. She had never been compelled to do anything like it in her life, but…
Her mouth opened of its own accord, clamping down on the curve of his shoulder, tasting his skin but needing more. More.
"Yes," Troy roared, holding the back of her head. "Do it! Bite me!"
Faith's eyes flew open, and she yanked her head back, the urge severed like a frayed rope.
Bite him? She wasn't an animal. This wasn't a sacrifice. Up until a second ago, Faith had fooled herself into believing that what they did together was almost holy…but this—it was horrifying. She could barely believe her ears.
But she didn't need to. She'd already felt the urge to bite him pulsing hard through her veins. She didn't want to believe it, but there was no denying what she'd about to do—sink her teeth into his flesh.
Which made it clear this wasn't heaven after all.
This was the devil's doing. Only he would demand a blood sacrifice.
Chapter Eleven
For the first time, Faith woke to find herself lying in Troy's arms in the morning. She lay still, not wanting to wake him, wondering what made him stay and enjoying the warmth of his deep, even breath against her neck.
She'd never felt so protected. So cherished.
Faith winced at the thought. Don't get ahead of yourself. It was dangerous to hope for too much—at least, that was the lesson she had learned in her parents' house, where making the mistake of asking for something they deemed ungodly—like the pink toy guitar she'd once asked for—could result in a beating.
And the things Faith wished for when she was in this half-asleep state were very dangerous.
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