In Trouble, page 4
His scent is electric now, all raw alpha, and the noises he make are primal too, low guttural grunts and groans. The blue of his eyes have seeped away, drowned by the black of his pupils, and his neatly styled chestnut hair tumbles into his face, his brow damp with his exertion.
When he comes, I brace myself for the knot. The pain, that has my mind whiting as I’m stretched wide at my entrance, and then the pleasure that follows. Like a shot straight to the bloodstream. Hitting my brain and lifting me away. And in that moment I’m free. Nothing to weigh me down.
This is why I need it so much. For that moment. For that moment of freedom.
Chapter 6
“I’m not letting you run away this time, Omega,” he says as he carries me down to the sofas and positions me on his lap. We’re nose to nose again, like we were in the cubicle. Only this time, I feel somehow sated, less skittish. Perhaps it’s the soft purr in his throat, or the way his hands brush up and down the outsides of my arms.
It’s like he’s trying to shush a wild cat, tame it.
I’m too dozy to care. The high from my recent orgasms, the feel of him locked into me, turning me sleepy. I curl into his chest and let him stroke my hair.
“This isn’t so bad, is it?”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” I say sleepily. “This doesn’t mean anything.” Then I remember what he said before he fucked me. I bolt upright and stare at him with an eyebrow raised. “Pack?”
I’ve heard alpha packs exist. There was a segment on one of the TV channels about a pack, a rowing team destined for the Olympics. There were four of them bonded together with an omega. A small pretty thing with big eyes who came to my shop a few months back.
But I’ve never met a pack before. In my experience, most alphas operate as lone wolves. They’re shit at sharing.
“Pack,” he answers, stroking a piece of my hair away from my face.
“How many of you are there?” I ask, examining his face for signs that this is bullshit. Yeah, I bet a lot of alphas lure girls in with promises of a pack when really they’re just after an orgy with their mates.
“Four.”
“All alphas?” I ask.
“All alphas. We haven’t found our omega yet.”
“But you’re looking?”
He laughs. “We’re always fucking looking, Omega.” Our eyes meet. “Most omegas aren’t interested.”
“They aren’t?”
“Four alphas is a lot to handle.”
I swallow, trying to imagine the intensity of an alpha multiplied by four. It does sound overwhelming. Terrifying perhaps. Yet interest niggles in my belly.
He sweeps my hair over my shoulder, letting his finger stroke the skin of my back. An action that is almost affectionate. I don’t know why. I’m interesting and sexy enough to fuck on his desk, but let’s be realistic, I’m a thief. Not the kind of girl you introduce to your pack as a possible mate.
“You’re scowling at me again,” he chuckles. “What did I do?”
“I think it’s time for me to go.” His knot’s softening and I go to wriggle off his lap. His hands clasp on my hips.
“Oh no, you don’t, Omega. Not yet.” He lifts me off his lap and sits me down on the sofa next to him. “Stay!” he commands, and I frown at him. “I’m going to get you a drink.” He zips up his fly and tucks his crisp shirt back in his trousers, giving me a flash of taut abdomen I’d like to touch. He shed the jacket at some point and now he undoes his cuffs and rolls up his sleeves. Inks scrawl over his hard forearms, and I lift them up and examine them. Over one arm there’s a tangle of rose thorns and on the other the emblem of some London football team.
I shrug. “Not bad.”
“You could do better?” he smirks.
“A lot better.”
He stares at me. Then nods, lumbering to his feet and striding towards what looks like a drink cabinet in the corner. Crouching down, he opens the doors, revealing a selection of expensive liquors.
“What can I get you, sweetheart?”
I swivel around on the sofa, kneeling up to peer over the back, and resting my cheek on my arms. “You can surprise me.” I try to think of the last time I had a drink with an alpha after sex. It’s been a long time. Not since I gave up on dating altogether and cut straight to the hooking up.
“I have a feeling you’re going to like the usual sweetly sick shit omegas lap up.”
“Hmmm,” I say noncommittally.
“Let me see.” He shuffles around bottles on the shelf. “Cosmo.”
I lift my head. How the hell did he know that?
He peers over his shoulder at me with a grin. “You come to my club a helluva lot, Omega. You think I don’t know what you drink.”
I glance at the window. The movements of the dancers below are wilder, more out of control than they were earlier. “Were you spying on me?”
“You caught my eye.” I think of all those photos on the website.
“I seem to recall you claimed I jumped you the other night …”
His grin widens, and he twists back to the cabinet, hooking out the bottle of vodka.
“It won’t be any good without ice,” I tell him.
“There’s ice.” He strolls over to a floor-to-ceiling cupboard in the corner and opens the door to reveal a full-sized fridge inside with an ice machine. Filling two tumblers, he pours in the vodka and triple sec, then the cranberry juice and a twist of lime.
“Do you live here?” I ask, twisting back around as he comes to sit next to me.
“No, but I do work fucking long hours.”
“I’ve only ever seen you in the club that one time.”
“I’m mostly working up here.”
I motion towards the desk with my head. “Seems there are some pretty decent perks associated with the job.”
“There are,” he says with a wink. He clinks his glass against mine.
I take a sip and he watches for my reaction. “Not bad,” I say, licking my lips.
“I started out as a barman – a cocktail waiter.”
“And then ended up owning the place?”
“It took a few years, but, yeah, I’m pretty ambitious. I know what I want and I don’t stop until I’ve got it.”
His gaze is hot on me and a blush sweeps over my body.
“Most alphas are … ambitious, I mean.” I take another sip. “And arrogant and self-centred.”
“And most omegas are weak and pathetic and incapable of looking after themselves.”
“Cheers to that.” I lift my glass and he knocks his against mine a second time.
Then he slides his arm around me and pulls me in closer. To my surprise, I let him, coming willingly. This feels … nice. Frightening but nice.
“I’m taking you home with me,” he whispers into the crown of my head. And all of a sudden it’s too much.
“You are, are you?”
“Yeah, as long as you promise not to pinch anything.”
I stiffen and he tugs me closer, purring. “It was a joke, Omega.”
I twist the glass in my fingers, the ice clinking as it hits the sides.
“Why’d you do it?” he asks me.
I sigh and tip back my head. “It’s a long story.” I eye him. “Why are you so quick to forgive?”
“Everyone makes mistakes.” I arch an eyebrow at him. “Including me. I’m not about to judge someone when I’ve made stupid fuck ups myself.”
“That also sounds like a long story.”
“We’ve got all night.”
“Another time,” I say, then knock back the drink. “To both.”
I slide off the seat and, grabbing my clutch, stroll to the door, knowing he’s watching my every step.
Chapter 7
I sleep for most of the next day. I don’t know why. I’m not hung over. I only had that one drink last night and dove into my bed as soon as I arrived home, despite my phone buzzing with messages from Sadie.
Maybe it’s that unease, that guilt, that I don’t enjoy. I can pinch things from people I dislike, people I don’t know. I can convince myself it doesn’t matter or that they deserve it.
Knowing the person, even ever so slightly, is a different thing. Then I feel that guilt, that self loathing. Especially when on the surface that person seems … nice. I still don’t understand why this alpha was so willing to forget my little indiscretion.
Thinking about all this hurts my head. It’s better to remain unconscious.
That plan works until a thump on my door jerks me awake. I try my best to ignore it, rolling onto my side and stuffing my pillow over my head. The banging doesn’t stop until I throw a dressing gown around me and unlock the door. It flies back and Sadie comes skipping into the room, throwing himself down on the bed.
“You ho. You’re still asleep.” He examines my face. “Did you pass out wasted last night?”
“No,” I tell him, crawling back into the bed beside him. “I only had one drink.”
“One drink?” he says in mock shock, resting the back of his hand against my forehead. “Are you unwell?”
“Also no,” I say, pushing his hand away.
“Well, sweetie, I hate to break it to you, but you look like shit.”
“Thanks a lot,” I say, kicking him under the sheets. “Not all of us can have that sexed up flush about our skin.
“You didn’t get sexed up last night?” He sticks out his bottom lip, giving me a pout and a look of sympathy.
“Not exactly.”
“Oooooh,” he says, clapping his hands together. “Do tell, and then I intend to bore you with all the details of my trip. I haven’t seen you all week.”
“I’ve been here the whole time.”
Sadie grins. “Oh yeah, I haven’t. Frank’s place actually has hot water … on demand. And a king sized bed.”
I groan. “Don’t make me jealous.” Although, hadn’t I had the opportunity to go to the alpha’s pad last night? Somewhere, I’m sure, by the state of his office, would’ve been a hell of a lot more luxurious than my room.
“I did call you last night. Several times. But you didn’t answer. Are you sure you weren’t passed out?” He flips his head to look at me. “Or were you still getting sexed up?” He knows to wait until later in the evening to meet up with me, after I’ve had my fill of alpha and am willing to hang out.
“Nope, I was home. In bed. Asleep.”
He gives me a little shake. “Are you sure you’re not sick?”
I lift my hands and rest them on my forehead. “Not sick, spooked maybe?”
“Spooked …” Sadie repeats slowly.
“Yeah.”
We’re both quiet for a moment.
A truck rumbles past on the road outside and I can hear his breath next to my ear.
“OK, don’t leave me dying of suspense here, girlie. What the hell does that mean?”
“I slept with an alpha …” I trail off.
Sadie spins his hands about in a rolling motion.
“And? So what?”
“I’ve slept with him before.”
Sadie burst out laughing. I twist my head to glare at him.
“What?” I say.
He snorts, clutching his sides, and rolling from side to side.
“What’s so fucking funny?”
“You’ve finally slept with every alpha in the city and you’re having to start from scratch again.” He glances at the unamused expression on my face and the reels of laughter start afresh, tears rolling down his face.
“I haven’t slept with your boyfriend,” I remind him. “Yet.”
That stops his laughter. He wipes the tears from his cheeks and gives me a hard stare. “I’d like to see you fucking dare.”
I smile at him. “The little omega is getting all clingy. It really is love.”
“You better believe it, girlie. Which means if you lay one finger on him, I’ll bite it off. Roar,” he adds, snapping his teeth together for added effect.
I hold my palms up in surrender. “It’s OK. I’m not interested in Frank. And besides, Frank only has eyes for you.”
Sadie wriggles in the bed next to me. “I know.” Then he snaps his head back towards me. “Hang on. You’re distracting me. Rewind to the spooked bit. You slept with an alpha, you’ve slept with before. Are you really telling me that’s never happened before?”
“Not for a long time. Not since I gave up on dating.”
“Uh huh. So when did you realise you’d slept with him before?”
I stare at my friend. Then kick him again.
“Ow,” he protests.
“It wasn’t like that. I knew I’d slept with him before. It was only a couple of weeks back.”
Sadie’s eyes widen and his mouth forms a silent Oh.
“Yeah,” I say.
“So was it by chance you bumped into him again, or you … arranged,” he emphasises the word, knowing that’s completely out of character for me, “to meet up?”
I think about my answer. None of the above. I was sneaking a stolen item back to him. Yeah, I’m not going to tell Sadie that.
“Bumped into him. And usually I’d run a bloody mile in the other direction … but I didn’t.”
“You ended up fucking his brains out instead.”
“I think he fucked my brains out,” I sigh, rubbing my thighs together.
Sadie gets a whiff of slick in the air. “Oh shit, that good, huh?”
“That good.”
“So,” he twines his fingers through mine, “the question is, are you going to go back for more?”
“It would be a bad idea, right?”
“Probably.”
“I mean, my relationships always end up in disaster.”
“They do.”
“Alphas can’t handle me.”
“Thwah, girlie,” Sadie waves his free hand through the air like he’s just burnt his fingers. “You are far too hot to handle.”
“Hmmm.”
“Hmmmmmm … but?”
“But … he says he’s part of a pack.” Sadie bolts up right, yanking my hand with him. “Hey!”
“A fucking pack? You’re kidding me right, Connie? What are they called?”
“I don’t know. It was probably just bullshit.”
“Do you know his name?”
“Yes,” I say.
“Then let’s ask Frank. He’ll know if it’s bullshit or not.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. Frank knows everything,” Sadie says with obvious admiration in his tone. Letting go of my hand, he hooks his phone out of his pocket and hits a button, lifting the device to his ear. He obviously has his latest boyfriend on speed dial.
“Hey babe,” he chimes when the call connects. I can hear a deep mumbled voice down the line, and Sadie giggles. “Sweetie, I’m with Connie.” More mumbling. “I know, later, I promise.” Sadie clears his throat. “Look, Connie met this alpha last night called …” he motions to me.
“Blaize Hammond.”
“You heard of him? … uh huh.” Sadie’s eyebrows leap up his forehead. “He owns Deep Slick.”
“Yep, I know.” I nod.
“So, sweetie, this dude claims he’s part of a pack. You heard about that?” Sadie hums as he listens to what his boyfriend tells him. “Ok sweetie, thanks for that. I’ll see you later, alright?” More giggling. “Babe!”
I roll my eyes. Sometimes the lovie dovie bullshit can get a bit sickly.
Sadie sticks his tongue out at me and hangs up.
“Sooooo,” he says.
“Sooooo?” I repeat.
“Word on the street is that, yes, your dude is indeed part of a pack.”
“How come we’ve not heard about it, then? Are they new?”
“No, they’ve been a pack for a while according to Frank, but they’re relatively new in town. Your guy bought that club a few years back, but only moved to the city six months ago. With the rest of the pack.”
“And who are the rest of the pack?”
“Maybe that’s something you should be asking your alpha,” Sadie says, with a glint of mischief in his eyes.
Then he types something into his phone and after several moments of scrolling, turns the screen towards me. “But I’d hazard a guess that’s them.”
It’s a photo from what looks like some black-tie event. Blaize stands at the edge of a row of men, all with their arms resting on each other’s shoulders. There are four of them like he said. And every single one of them is most definitely an alpha.
Chapter 8
By mid-week, the skin around my thumb nail is chewed to smithereens and I have to duck into the kitchen between appointments and fish out the first aid kit, wrapping it in a spiderman plaster Hugh must have stolen from home. Biting the skin around my thumb nail is a stupid nervous habit I picked up years ago; rearing its ugly head every time I can’t make up my mind about something.
Hugh eyes me with concern and I’m not surprised when I receive a text from Zoe inviting me around for dinner later in the week. They’ve obviously been talking about me and now I’m being hauled in for a proper scrutiny.
I press down the plaster, securing it to my mangled flesh, and then text Zoe back accepting the invitation. She makes the best spaghetti bolognese on the planet – I can hardly refuse, especially when my diet consists of choices between the super or the potted variety of noodles.
When I step back out into the shop, I nearly drop the fresh cup of tea I’m cradling. Standing in the middle of the shop is Blaize, only this time there’s another alpha by his side. They’re similar height, but this one has a mop of blonde curls on his head, and where Blaize’s go to fashion choice seems to be a suit, this alpha wears jeans, a pale blue T-shirt stretched across his chest and a bomber jacket hanging from his broad shoulders.
“I’ve got a client,” I blurt out. “I can’t take personal visits when I’m working.” Hugh’s inking an older man in the corner of the shop and I see his eyes swivelling, taking in the two alphas and me.
He starts to lower his needle, but I shake my head at him, conveying that I’m OK.
“Yeah, Logan here is your next client,” Blaize tells me, slapping his friend on the shoulder. I frown at him and wander over to the counter, flipping through the appointment book and finding the name of my next client. Logan. 4,30pm.
