Chapter 30
Chapter
Thirty
Three different Alphas shout my name, and in doing they tunnel all their focus towards me. Their entire focus. And it’s a lot for a girl to take in. Under the unexpected weight of their Alpha presence and sweet attention, my arms decide to give out, making me flop face first into the dirt.
I’m not hurt and if they all stop rushing closer and calling my name, I’ll have the chance to bounce back up and explain. Of course they don’t, it’s like getting sucker punched by a bourbon, lemon, and blackberry silk glove… amazing and overwhelming at the same time.
“For God’s sake don’t move another goddamn inch! Give me a fucking minute!” I yell out, although it’s probably more like a long moan. I have to close my eyes to ride through the tsunami of Alpha deliciousness and compatibility. And an ocean of embarrassment.
After a handful of steadying exhales, I climb to my feet. Turning away from them I brush the dirt off my face and right my clothes in an effort to steady myself. Honestly, my Omega genetics are out of control—the things I want to do to them have nothing to do with talking but obviously I need to focus on a few other things considering we’ve got a major issue or two to resolve.
It takes a few attempts until I manage to shove my lusty Omega side in a box and temporarily out of the way so I can function without whining, or leaking any more than I am. Using my hand to wave away my bubble-gum perfume, I plaster on my working face and spin to face the crowd.
I was under-prepared. I realise that now. The four of them are like a fucking smorgasbord waiting to be devoured, and I’m absolutely ravenous. King’s looking downright dangerous in his grey sweats and bare feet; Maverick’s hair is a mess, but he’s got the wickedest smirk on his face, and Tyson in a white button-down and jeans is near pornographic. Of course, even the new guy falls victim to my appetite—he is the personification of a damn tasty Alpha snack, for me at least.
His grey eyes are captivating, despite the fact they’re currently aimed at me not in the nicest way. He’s tall, probably pretty similar to Tyson and they also share the same colour hair, although the new guy has it tied up in a bit of a bun thing with loose bits all around his face. My eyes jump to the rest of his face; eyebrow pierced, nose ring, freckles for days, and a beard. The new guy is fit.
The wind blows my way and before his scent reaches me, I bring my hand up to cover my nose, after the last time I think I need the precaution. But like I’m fast learning, Alphas that smell like tasty treats have another magic power; their scent reaches no matter what.
His scent is as textured and layered as the others, not that that’s surprising but while some people would smell butterscotch, my mind is storing away the individual notes in my scent bank; caramel like the thick gooey stuff that sticks to the top of your mouth is the most predominant. But when I focus again, I could say the same for the hints of yeast, maple syrup, burnt brown sugar too. Either way this man is a walking, scowling, dish of butterscotch pudding I want to dive head-first into.
“Tris, I might need an update from you soon or I’m about to start ripping limbs from bodies,” King says quietly, keeping his words between us.
My eyes leap to him, and like always he calms the jumble and chaos in a heartbeat. I roll my eyes but lean into him, saturating myself in his unwavering support and protection.
“I must look like a nut job.”
“No matter how loony you look, you’re my nut job. Yeah?” he jokes but it’s strained and his gaze is roaming over to them constantly.
I lean further into him, but I don’t hold on to him as much as I want to because I can read how close he is to snapping. He’s still reading the situation as dangerous. I look over to Maverick and Tyson, both of them wearing similar expressions, shock, and confusion.
“Guess I’ll do the introductions?” I offer, talking confidently, a complete act of course because I’m going to water. “King, this is Maverick, and this is Tyson. Maverick, Tyson, this is King. But I have no idea who he is.”
No one makes a sound and I seriously start to wonder if I actually said the words out loud or if I was talking in my head because instead of looking relieved, they look even more confused and shocked.
“What?” I throw my hands up.
“This is the Alpha you were talking about?” Maverick asks carefully.
“Watch your fucking tone, sunshine. I’m not loving the insinuation,” King barks.
But I talk over the top of him. “King is who I was talking about, and for the record he knows everything. I don’t get what you’re trying to say, Maverick.”
“How the fuck do you know Maverick?” New guy steps up doing a great job of impersonating a rabid dog: hackles raised, teeth bared.
“Me?” I return his aggression with a healthy dose of my own. “If you’re talking to me, dial it down. Or here’s an idea instead of getting all snarly at me: maybe you should talk to Maverick about how we know each other.”
But the new guy doesn’t stop. “Ty? Do you know her too?”
“I know who the fuck you are and I’m not a fucking fan.” King jabs a finger at Mr Butterscotch, and it stops all conversations in their tracks, but it doesn’t put an end to the aggression hovering around us. If anything, a switch gets thrown and the Alpha pheromones gets even more intense as they challenge each other.
It’s like falling dominoes—when King stands taller and gets more intimidating, the others do the same. But so do I. I’m Alpha drunk all over again. My head spins wildly as their scents keep battering against me, screaming in my thoughts they’re in their prime, and they’re all mine.
“Stop!” I wave my arm around desperately trying to breathe some actual fucking oxygen.
Tyson’s attention was already split between the Alpha showdown and me. His stormy eyes have been caressing and assessing me since the minute he got out of his car. Since he’s already seen me mid-spike before it doesn’t take him long to put together the issue.
“You’re having a spike again.”
“Look at you being all doctory. Again.” I laugh under another loud exhale, my body turning his way.
No matter how hard I keep trying to stay on track, it’s not happening. Everything I do is in response to the signals they keep throwing out instinctively, and it’s only going to get worse because that’s exactly how nature built us. “Okay, we might have to hurry this along because I think I’m going to go into heat pretty soon. I can make a run for it. Big Tom’s probably still up in town and he can…”
“Who the fuck is Big Tom?” Tyson snaps his question, almost at the same time as a thunderclap booms through the sky although no one but me jumps or releases a little meep.
King growls at me. Completely different growl than before when he was getting all protective, but it has the same effect… I all but puddle for them. The scent of my perfume and my arousal is impossible to miss. Turning to face him again, the first thing I notice is how dilated and full of arousal his eyes are. But then when I look at Maverick and Tyson, even the new guy, they’re all looking similarly glassy-eyed.
“Sorry,” I mumble, waving my arms around again to try to clear the air for them. “It kind of reinforces the point I was making though.”
“You’re staying here,” King says, his voice still a bit deeper than usual. Of course, I love it when he talks like that, and unsurprisingly my perfume confirms it for him too. “But there ain’t no way Rex Fucking Larking’s family is.”
“Who’s Rex again?” I whisper. Well, I try to but it’s more like a stage whisper that everyone can hear.
“Death Riders’ President.”
What he says doesn’t register for a few seconds. But when it does, I stare at King ’cause then I’m the one in shock.
Irrationality is clearly not my friend today, but as my memories of Raney’s ordeal assault me, I choose violence.
Adrenaline makes me faster than normal and perhaps because the Alphas thought I was going to react differently, no one stops me when I lunge at the newcomer and shove him in the chest. “You asshole! People died out there and you ruined Raney’s day, for what? For fucking what!”
He says nothing as he stares at me. Instead of moving a muscle or getting in my face, he stands there and takes the brunt of my anger. But that doesn’t mean the others stay still. Tyson’s presence gingerly reaches out for the back of my shirt and pulls me away.
“Tristan, I’m not making excuses for him,” he says gently.
“Then there better not be a but coming out your mouth,” I retort, turning to face him.
“In a minute there might be, but first let’s get you a little more like yourself.” Tyson catches my hand as he talks, and I cling to him, soaking in his calming nature. His sweet lemony scent really does settle me, exactly like it did at the hospital.
“How you doing?” Tyson asks after a few minutes.
I roll my eyes. “You know, much like last time.”
The smile that breaks over his lips is one of those that only people you’ve been intimate with can share with you. And it makes me blush and preen a little.
“Doctors’ orders still stand,” he says suggestively.
I shrug and swallow the laughter bubbling up. Honestly, how none of these Alphas haven’t had me certified yet is surprising.
“You ready for that ‘but’ now?” he asks calmly, and the way he acts has every cell in my body relaxing.
I shrug, hoping I am ready. “Sure.”
“Steel is my brother. I wouldn’t change that for the world but that means Rex Larking is my father too. I use a different name because I want nothing to do with Rex.” Tyson’s eyes are locked on my face before they bounce over to King who’s taken an obvious step forward and dropped his hands on my hips. Tyson’s attention stays on King. “I share the same deep-seated hatred it looks like you do towards Rex, but Steel is in with the club deeper than Maverick, or me.”
King scoffs and it’s ugly and full of derision. “So, push comes to shove, where’s your brother’s loyalties gonna fucking lie, huh? Cause once you’re in you’re in for fucking life.”
“Steel’s loyalty is to me because we are pack. I trust him.”
“Good to know, but see I’ve still got big fuck off issues with you, since you fucking rejected Tris’ bite.” And then King swings his fury towards Maverick, “And pretty sure I heard you confessing she was your scent-matched mate but then you stand her up with barely an apology before you decide to mark her with your fucking spunk after a fight?”
There’s a vacuum of noise when King stares at Tyson, daring him to argue. But the sudden lack of noise comes from Maverick and Steel being stunned by King’s big reveal about Tyson and me. But King isn’t finished yet.
“Shit, my bad, didn’t realise you BOTH hadn’t been truthful about Tristan to your pack! Makes your bullshit comment about trust even more bullshit, huh?”
“King!” I admonish, and I’m unsurprised at the fury I see painted over his face. This man has always had my best interest and safety as his priority but it’s a bit shit if he’s throwing shade at Tyson considering our own path to each other has been so long and complicated.
“No, Tristan,” he warns before reaching in and plucking me off my feet and turning his back on the drama.
King stomps his way to the cabin and up the stairs, dropping my butt on to the veranda railing. The look in his eyes has my heart racing—it’s feral need and possession mixed with pure frustration. “Killer, I’m so fucking sorry these cunts ruined our special time. I’ll make it up to you,” he promises before wrapping his hands around my face and kissing the absolute bejesus out of me.