Chapter Fifteen
Willow
Gy follows me down the hallway, his eyes trained on my back, making goosebumps break out over my skin.
The big Alpha’s attention has my nipples puckering, and I can’t help but think of my fantasy.
Even though I’m on suppressants, they do nothing to dull my body’s reaction to him.
Heat pools between my legs, and my scent blooms in the air.
I can’t wear a scent blocker. Allergies. So, this is the way it is. Hopefully, he doesn’t say anything.
The way he manhandled me last night was atrocious. Absolutely not what I’m looking for in an Alpha. I like my men a bit more civilized. Keep telling yourself that.
These freaking pheromones are something else. When I enter the kitchen, I reach for a pod to drop into the coffeemaker. Cool air caresses my midriff, and Gy chokes back a strangled groan. Biting my lip, I do my best not to smirk.
“Would you like coffee?” His brows furrow at the offer. We haven’t exactly had the friendliest of starts, but my mother taught me to be a good hostess, and even though she’s gone, her lessons remain.
“Uh, sure.” He glances around awkwardly, unsure what to do with his big, hulking frame in my tiny home.
Bruce keeps his body between us, but I’m fairly certain I don’t need protection from the sober version of this Alpha.
His caramel apple is decadent sweetness with a hint of desire, none of the primal energy from last night.
“Milk, sugar?”
He runs his hand through his hair and shifts from foot to foot.
“Just black for me. Thank you.” The whole situation is so uncomfortable that a giggle crawls up my throat.
Turning my back on him, I get myself under control.
These outbursts are something my sisters make fun of me for.
The worst timing. The strangest situations, and there I am laughing away.
It seems trying to buy a dog from my scent-match is another one of those times. Awkward.
“Feel free to take a seat. I’d love to hear more about Bigfoot,” I prompt him, waiting as he walks over.
The chair creaks under his weight, and Bruce presses into my side, but he doesn’t growl.
Gy may have already said no to the adoption, but I refuse to accept that as an answer.
Oakley needs that dog. Something in his eyes reminds me of her; my gut is certain they belong together.
I’ll make it happen even if I need to steal him.
“It’s still a no. He’s too dangerous.” Placing the cups on the table, I hide a scoff behind the sound of pulling out my chair.
Hands around my warm mug, I settle into the seat across from him, and Bruce sits next to me, laying his head across my lap soothingly.
“Bigfoot belonged to a drug dealer. A real piece of shit. He used that massive dog as a weapon. Starving him, beating him, then releasing all that pent-up rage on people who owed him money.”
Poor beautiful boy.
“Now you see why he’s not right for you?” Gy’s trying to be sneaky, but he’s so very wrong.
“Nope. Sounds perfect. He already understands protection. If he was able to do it for someone he hated and feared, there’s no telling how far he’d go for someone he loves.” And Oakley is remarkably lovable.
“Willow. Listen. He’s a really big fucking dog. A menace. You can’t work with that. We just keep him as happy as possible.” It’s sweet how much Gy’s trying, and a bit of my irritation at him melts away. I’m a sucker for an animal lover.
“What do you mean he’s a menace? He was extremely friendly last night.” The relaxed way he greeted me through the kennel gate is completely at odds with the picture Gy’s painting.
“Honestly, I’m pretty pissed off that the prospect took you back there. My animals are off limits. But whatever. That dog is a killer. Period. He’s too much for most Alphas to handle, much less an omega.” Gy utters the last phrase with finality and takes a sip of his coffee, eyes trained on me.
Misogynist dickhead. Rage flares within me.
“So, if I were an Alpha, it wouldn’t be a problem? It’s just frail little omegas who can’t adopt dogs from you?” I jump up, reaching for the knife sheathed at my thigh. Guess this man didn’t learn last night; perhaps he needs another lesson in just how dangerous I am.
“Don’t twist this. He’s not right for you.
” Gy stands, burnt caramel rolling off him in waves.
Being so close, our height difference is impossible to ignore, as are the muscles and grooves popping through his shirt.
“Not sure why you want another dog, anyway. You’ve already got a good one right here.
” While I must admit that he’s right about Bruce being an angel, I’m not sure how much I can tell him about my sisters.
“I want him.” I know it’s bratty, but I can’t help but push the Alpha’s buttons. “Just give me your price, and I’ll meet it.”
“There’s no price I’d put on your safety. Your money doesn’t entice me, little girl.” The resolve in his tone makes me frown, and I consider my argument from all angles. If he’s so worried about my welfare, maybe I can prove my worth to him.
“What about if we make a deal? I’ll train him. When you decide he’s safe, you let me have him.” His eyes narrow on me, cogs turning in his head, and I know he’s intrigued.
Hook. Line. Sinker. Bigfoot will be mine.
“You know anything about training dogs?” He glances at Bruce, thinking about the situation at hand.
“More than you think.” My gaze lands on the small white package he was carrying. “I trained Bruce myself. Want me to show you how well he bites?”
“That’s a pass. You drive a hard bargain, Willow.” He shakes his head, chuckling. “Think you’d be willing to teach me a thing or two? Got some good animals, but not a lot of know-how. I’d love to see more of them adopted out.”
Locking my knees, I stop myself from dancing around the room. Victory! It’s not exactly what I wanted, but the opportunity to work with more dogs and spend time with my scent-match is even better.
Be cool. Be cool.
“Yeah. I can do that. But only if you keep your hands and mouth to yourself.” My fingers trail to the bruise on my neck where he nearly sucked my skin off. His eyes follow the motion, gaze heating. His tongue darts out to lick his lower lip, but he stays where he is.
“I think you’d like my hands and mouth on you.” The rumble in his tone makes slick pool instantly between my legs. Damn him for calling my bluff. Needing to busy my hands, I wander over to the island and pick up the white box.
“Is this supposed to be a consolation prize for not giving me Bigfoot?” I banter, pulling the black ribbon slowly, letting the soft material slide through my fingers.
“Uh. No. I found it on your porch.” When I lift the top, I glance at the object inside.
My heart drops into my stomach.
Bile rushes up my throat.
A loud clatter makes me jump as it hits the floor, and my world swirls, shifting below my feet.
The mallet thuds in time atop the baby grand piano, while Malachi pins me with a malevolent smile. Tethered to the seat, I’m stuck—forever at his mercy.
“Play, prodigy. Play,” he barks, and I must obey. Through the pain and fear, I work to keep the tempo he demands. The antiseptic-scented bastard broke two of my fingers with that damn mallet, and I want to smash his face in. But rebellion is met with more bruises and terror.
If it only affected me, I might resist, but these assholes will hurt anyone to make you comply.
My eyes dart over to the corner of the room, where my dad is gagged and bound, watching me with utter devastation as I botch the notes again.
His once-white shirt is stained brown; matted with dirt and dried blood, while more drips from his destroyed nose.
The door slams open, heralding the scent of motor oil. My stomach tightens, bile racing up my throat. I retch painfully. That smell means only one thing. Devlin, the lead Alpha of Pack Mordred, enters the room, whistling a happy tune.
Sadistic fuck.
While Malachi has hurt me, Devlin is something else, plucking at my every weakness with his sharp tongue and destroying the people I love with even harsher fists. Like a jungle cat, he slinks my way, sniffing the air as my scent sours.
“Play something fast, little mouse,” he croons, coming to stand behind me.
The heat of his body makes me break out in a cold sweat.
Unable to breathe, the room swims before my eyes.
Devlin drags his jagged nails over my shoulders, hooking them into my skin and digging until blood bubbles to the surface.
Droplets slide down my arms, following their length until they pool on the ivory keys.
Kage, his henchman, watches me, waiting for a sound of pain so he can cause some more.
Biting my tongue, I keep quiet and wait for further instructions, even as tears run in rivers down my cheeks.
“You’re not listening, little mouse. Play.
” My fingers slip on the smooth keys, but I do as I’m told, pouring all my pain into the piano.
Sad and haunting, the melody of my soul fills the room, echoing from the stark walls.
Devlin lowers his head, growling in my ear and running his teeth over my neck.
Unable to stop myself, I jerk away, not wanting his foul lips on me for another second.
“Fuck!” I shout, as he yanks my hair back, holding it so tight I’m afraid it’s going to be torn from my scalp.
“You may find me repulsive, little mouse, but you and your sisters belong to me—your bodies, your minds, your souls. I’ll destroy you from the inside out.
Steal your joy. Sell you to the highest bidders over and over again.
Your daddy took something precious from me.
And now I’m going to destroy everything he cares about.
” He pinches my skin between his sharp teeth to punctuate the threat.
A bond I’d rather die than accept.
With one last nip, he walks away.
“Wilhelmina,” Malachi demands, tapping his mallet once more. “Play faster. Make it fun.”
The sound of fists hitting flesh reaches my ears, but I do as I’m told, playing to the tempo of the hands pummeling my father. My broken fingers ache, and my throat is dry, but my discomfort is nothing next to what they’re doing to him.
How much longer can he hold on?
A loud crack rends the air.
My eyes snap open. The music falters. And the primal scream I’ve been holding back rips from my lips.
“Daddy!”