Cursed Love (The Vallaverse)

4. Moses

Moses

Watching my brother’s blue eyes slowly darken beneath his thick-rimmed glasses as one of the tech ‘gurus’ hired last month tries to explain their way out of a security breach is fascinating. The conference room is silent except for the pathetic stammering of the employee standing at the head of the table. His hands are shaking, his voice a mess of excuses and half-truths as he tries to explain how he let a security breach slip past him. Rookie mistake. One that won’t be forgiven.

I lean back in my chair, fingers steepled under my chin, and glance over at Hunter. His jaw is tight, eyes fixed on the guy like a hawk about to sink its talons into a particularly stupid prey. There’s this slow shift in his expression, a dark cloud settling over him as the guy keeps digging himself deeper.

And me? I’m grinning. Because I know how this ends.

Hunter’s irritation is like a storm brewing. Quiet at first, almost calm. But when it breaks? God help whoever’s on the other end of it. I settle in, waiting for the inevitable explosion, my own irritation bleeding into amusement.

“Do you have any idea how many hours of work you just pissed down the drain?” Hunter’s voice cuts through the guy’s rambling like a blade.

The guy freezes, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Hunter doesn’t even give him a chance to respond, leaning forward with that deviant grin of his. “You don’t, do you? Because if you did, you wouldn’t be standing here wasting my goddamn time with excuses.”

I can’t help it. A low laugh slips out, drawing Hunter’s attention for a split second. His glare says, not now, Moses, but I just grin wider. It’s The Night of Scarlet . Everyone’s emotions are riding high, even the ones who think they’re above it all. There’s a hum in the air, a sharpness to the tension that wasn’t here yesterday. The city knows what tonight is.

The one night of the year when the rules are different. Where the lines between designations blur just enough for the Valla to crawl out of their little hellholes and take their pick of Omegas and Betas alongside other Alphas.

I tap my pen against the table, the rhythmic sound almost drowning out the tech guy’s frantic apologies. It’s funny, in a way. How society has built us up into this boogeyman myth. Ruthless, uncontrollable, incapable of fitting into their perfect little world. We’re the nightmare parents whisper about to scare their kids into behaving. The shadows they pretend don’t exist until nights like this, when we step into the light and remind them exactly what we are.

They call us animals. Monsters. Beasts.

And they’re not wrong.

I should know.

Because I’m one of them.

Hunter is seconds away from losing it, and I can’t wait. I lean forward, elbows resting on the polished table, hands folded like I’m some saint waiting to offer divine judgment. Spoiler: I’m not. The poor employee in front of us doesn’t even realize he’s about to get shredded. Or maybe he does. Valla aren’t known for their sympathy. He’s rambling again, a mix of panic and desperation tumbling out of his mouth and I can see the exact moment Hunter snaps.

Hunter shoves back from his chair, the screech of metal against tile loud enough to make the guy flinch. He’s growling now, that low, guttural sound that’s all predator, no human. I don’t even bother to hide the grin stretching across my face. The anticipation is half the fun, watching the prey squirm before the kill.

“Do you even listen when we give instructions?” Hunter’s voice is sharp enough to cut steel, the poor Beta squealing in terror.

I stay seated, relaxed, but my eyes don’t leave the scene in front of me. Hunter’s pacing now, circling like a wolf. I’m waiting for my moment, the exact second I can lean in and turn the screws tighter. But, of course, that’s when Amel walks in. Our Alpha strolls through the door like he owns the place—well, technically, he does—and I immediately sigh, slouching back in my seat. So much for fun.

“Out,” Amel says to the Beta, his voice calm but carrying that edge of authority that makes everyone listen. The guy doesn’t even hesitate, practically tripping over himself to escape. The door clicks shut, and Amel turns to us, arms crossed, his gaze sweeping over the room like he’s trying to figure out what kind of mess we’ve made this time.

“You two are unbelievable,” he starts, shaking his head. “This is why I keep you locked away upstairs instead of letting you deal with people.”

“Don’t start,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck. “It’s not like we planned this.”

Amel raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Then how exactly did you know this kid was involved in the breach?”

Hunter snaps his head toward Amel, his focus shifting in an instant. The snarl that comes from him is pure instinct, pure Valla, and it’s enough to make most people bolt. But Amel? He just sighs, like he’s dealing with unruly children. He’s also been with us long enough that it’s just an everyday occurrence. “Hunter—”

Hunter doesn’t let him finish. He moves too fast, pinning Amel against the wall in one smooth motion. His snarl deepens and I can see the tension in his body, the way his hands grip Amel’s shirt like he’s two seconds away from losing control. In moments like this, Hunter isn’t in control, his beast is. His beast was deprived and now he’s looking for another outlet.

Amel doesn’t even flinch. “You’re proving my point, you know,” he muses, a playful smile on his lips. His arms dangle at his sides, the lack of fight soothing Hunter’s inhibitions only slightly.

Hunter growls again, leaning in close, his breath hot against Amel’s neck. “Stop talking.”

And then he drags Amel into a rough kiss, all teeth and heat and frustration. It’s messy and violent, a clash of instincts and dominance, and I can’t help but smirk. This is what we are—chaos wrapped in suits, pretending to play by the rules. I lean back, arms crossed, watching as Amel finally kisses him back, his hand sliding up to grip Hunter’s neck. There’s something feral in the way they move, something raw and unfiltered that no one else gets to see.

“Get a room,” I mutter, though there’s no heat in it. I push up from my seat, heading toward the both of them, ready for my turn. After all, Amel is our Alpha, the link between us, the only reason we’re still sane most days.

When I reach him, I grab his face, my fingers sliding into his hair, and kiss him hard. It’s not gentle—nothing about us ever is—but it’s enough to coat him in my scent, enough to let anyone who comes near him know who he belongs to. Amel grins against my lips, his hand coming up to rest lightly on my chest, like he’s reminding me to behave. I pull back just enough to look down at him, my voice edged with heat.

“If we had the time,” I murmur, my breath hot against his ear, “we’d bend you right over the conference table and fuck you here, Alpha.” Just the thought of squeezing into his tight ass has me reaching down to adjust my cock, Amel just shaking his head, amusement filling his features.

Amel leans back against the wall, his hand still firmly on my chest. “As much as I’d enjoy watching the two of you fight over me, we don’t have time for that.” His expression softens a little, his gaze moving from Hunter back to me. I hate how well he sees us, how much he understands, and how little he can do about it.

The Night of Scarlet isn’t just about finding an Omega. It’s a biological need that will save us from our semi-yearly rut that nearly tears Amel apart. An Alpha is not made for a Valla’s rut and yet Amel lovingly takes care of the both of us, regardless of how wild we get. In a few more weeks, we’ll burrow Amel into one of the rooms, taking out our animalistic pleasures on our poor Alpha until we’re sated.

He loves it but that doesn’t make it any easier.

“Hey, I’ll bring home an Omega this time,” Amel purrs as he leans up to kiss me in a sweeter touch than I’ve had in a while. “I can feel it. This is our year, Moses.”

I sigh against his lips before pressing my forehead against his, standing there and drinking in that fresh pine scent of his. It always feels like I’m walking into a winter forest around him, a cooling balm in the chaotic world we live in. I pull away, still a bit peeved that our outlet disappeared, Hunter a bit more disgruntled than I am. However, our Alpha has us covered—as he always does.

“Hunter, I didn’t let you tear apart that poor Beta because he wasn’t the one responsible for the breach. Did he have a hand in it? Sure, but he isn’t the culprit. It was Paula.”

I step back, glaring at Amel and then Hunter. There’s no fucking way that Paula, a Beta that’s been with us since the beginning nearly ten years ago, was the reason for the fucking breach. She’s not allowed to be. “No,” I ground out, my lip turning up into a snarl. Tapering down my instincts doesn’t work as the need to rip that woman’s stomach through her throat grows.

Amel pats my chest again, “Moses, breathe. You can let those instincts take over in a second.”

A growl sits at the back of my throat, but that rhythmic tapping on my chest keeps me from lashing out. Even so, I bare my teeth at him, willing him to continue explaining why the fuck Paula was wrapped up in this. Hunter’s just as riled, his hands fisted at his sides, his breathing a little heavier as we brace ourselves for the fun we so desperately need.

“She’s been selling information,” Amel begins, letting out a heavy sigh. “Our data has always been highly sought after, especially since the two of you make the company such a hot commodity. Valla out in the open aren’t exactly common. It doesn’t help that we deal with so many of the rich in the city that any kind of breach is catastrophic.”

That animalistic urge to do something is just growing until I can’t hold it back and slam my fist into the wall, the force of it splintering the drywall and sending a crack spidering outward. Hunter doesn’t even flinch, but Amel sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Glad we pay the cleanup crew so well,” he mutters. “Before you two go all wolf and some shit, the breach was caught and the information saved. None of the customers are any the wiser and there’s no need for alarm.”

I snort. “Where is Paula? I want to have a word.” A wild smile spreads across my face, mirroring my brother’s. We all know that there will be no talking.

Amel smirks, though there’s no humor in it. “Everyone’s left for the evening to prepare for the gala. Everyone except Paula. She’s just finishing up some things.”

My grin is slow and sharp, a predator’s grin. “You’re saying she’s still here?”

Amel’s gaze meets mine, steady and unflinching. “By law, her hospital bills will be paid for.”

“And the funeral?” Hunter asks, his voice quiet but lethal.

Amel’s smile sharpens. “Not covered.”

I glance at Hunter, and he looks back at me, the same dark intent mirrored in his expression. We don’t need words to know what’s coming next. “Hunter,” I say, my voice dripping with anticipation, “what do you think? A quick lesson, or something more… creative?”

Hunter’s grin is all teeth. “I say we make it memorable.”

Amel steps out of our way, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the storm brewing between the two of us. “Don’t destroy anything too expensive,” he says, his voice laced with mock exasperation.

I laugh as I follow Hunter out of the room. Paula might have made it almost ten years here, but she just picked the wrong night to test what happens when you betray us. The Night of Scarlet isn’t just for Omegas and Betas. Tonight, it’s for predators, too. And we’re just getting started.