Chapter 9
nine
brIAR
Okay, okay.
The food is good.
Loads better than whatever I managed to scrounge together for myself in recent memory. In fact, I can’t seem to recall the last time I had anything hot…
I chew a bite of roast chicken, focusing on the temperature so I don’t moan at the taste. God forbid any of these assholes think I enjoy a single facet of this this elaborate—unfortunately legal—abduction.
My husband said he had something for us to discuss anyway.
I’ll think about how much I like the food—and how desperately close my Omega is to melting down—later.
I level Cillian with a gaze, trying to keep my squirm subtle as slick slips into my panties. “What the hell,” I grumble flatly. “It’s not like I have anywhere else to be. Fire away, Mr. Blackwood.”
Dane flinches at the mention of fire and I almost feel bad. But then Rhys growls under his breath and vindication swoops through me.
Fuck these guys.
Just… not literally.
You hear me? I holler internally. NOT LITERALLY.
Got it, my Omega agrees, panting. Got it.
For fuck’s sake. When my heat comes, I am toast.
Or whatever beasts eat.
I bet they eat pussy, my Omega offers. Which… is maybe the first time she’s ever used that word. I’m not sure whether I should be proud or appalled.
I settle on the latter, needing all the starch I can muster while I stare the pack alpha down. Something seethes in those light irises every time I snag his focus. I wonder if he’s used to omegas not being able to look him in the eye.
Well get used to it, asshole.
He slowly sets his utensils down, regarding me with cool intensity. “I presume your father explained our need for an omega.”
I stab a piece of asparagus, purposefully dropping my gaze to hide the bolt of panic blocking my gullet. “An heir or something?”
“Yes,” Cillian intones. “We need to produce an heir in order to take over the company. As alphas, an omega clearly represents the best odds of achieving this goal.”
I roll my eyes while I chew, once again ignoring the burst of brown butter on my tongue. “And you need your evil spawn not to be a bastard. So one of you had to marry me first. Yeah, I’ve heard. I can read a contract, you know.”
Cillian’s weighted pause forces my attention back to his face. “Yes,” he replies, dry. “I am aware. And I know the contract only mentioned me, but you have my word that none of us will touch you unless you allow it.”
It can’t be true… but a stupid strand of hope winds around my lungs anyway. I narrow my glare, waiting for the catch.
Which comes immediately.
Cillian sips from his drink, his icy eyes twinkling. “However, you may want to reconsider your position on that. If you want your freedom back.”
Utter silence rings through the room as everyone freezes. My mind catalogs that detail—the others are as shocked as I am. They didn’t know he was going to say that.
But why would he keep something like this from them? Or are they pretending to be surprised?
“My freedom,” I repeat. The manic urge to laugh tickles my throat, but I settle for a smirk. “What freedom? In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have any here; and I wasn’t exactly swimming in options before our little ceremony today, either.”
Cillian arches one thick black brow. “Would you like options, Briar? Because we can give you anything you want. Money, your own home, revenge. You just have to give us what we want first.”
Money.
My own home.
Revenge.
That last word sparkles through my center, sinking into secret places I didn’t know I had. But why? And how the hell does this bastard know when I don’t?
“And you want… what?” I guess dully. “For me to spread my legs every hour until you get an heir?”
That slashing brow kicks a bit higher. “There are many ways to produce a child. If you don’t want to spread your legs,” he says with a slight snarl, “we could always go down a more clinical route.”
He waits for that thought to germinate, images of test tubes and syringes swirling. I recoil internally, scrambling back from the searing memories of my father’s laboratory and the fear I felt every time I peeked inside.
Cillian’s wolf-blue eyes see everything. They gleam as he absorbs my expression. “But I don’t think my wife likes that idea.”
My wife.
It’s my turn to flinch as his words sink in. Too true, damn him.
He’s underestimating how spiteful I can be if he thinks a few well-placed bribes and one threat will have me rolling over, though. I scoff.
“What makes you think I would ever give you what you want? You treated me like property today; so, in my mind, you’re just as bad as my father.”
It isn’t true. No one could ever be as bad as my father because he’s the reason I lost my sister. But Cillian doesn’t know that.
I glower, concluding with, “You gonna take revenge on yourself, too?”
Rhys opens his sneering mouth, but Cillian holds a hand up toward him, still gazing at me while he replies, “I suspect your revenge against our pack will come in the form of financial damages.”
Money.
These assholes are American Royalty. They have a lot of money. Enough for me to move far away. Buy myself a house, a security team, a full roster of alphas for my heats. A private investigator to find out what happened to Violet.
I bite my lip, glowering at him while I consider.
Dane’s raspy voice interrupts, once again stunning the room into stillness. He won’t turn his face toward me, but fervor snaps through the one golden eye I can see.
“No one here will touch you without your permission, Briar,” the giant alpha vows, glaring at the tabletop.
Huh. So the big guy has a soft spot for chivalry. That may work in my favor.
I don’t have the heart to tell him his packmate already manhandled me off the bed earlier. Though I’m tempted when Rhys snorts, “Yeah, sure. Tell us no all you want for now. But when your heat comes? You’ll be running around here naked, begging us to fuck you.”
I’ve been sedated for all my heats, courtesy of Dr. Brynn and his fanatical obsession with keeping me “intact” for whatever pack he conned into buying me. So I don’t know for sure if Rhys is correct… but the unfortunate state of my panties seems to underscore his point.
Shit.
Cillian and Dane seem equally troubled by that notion. While Rhys gloats with an arrogant, gorgeous smirk, his packmate frowns mightily. And their alpha wears a softer, more ponderous scowl.
“She still doesn’t have to do anything,” Dane argues, staring daggers across the antique table.
Cillian interrupts them. “No, of course not,” he puts mildly. “But on the likely chance that Briar does want alphas for her heat, she may prefer to have experience with each of us beforehand. To make her more comfortable.”
“She is right here,” I snipe.
Cillian nods, infuriatingly calm. “The answer seems obvious to me,” he says, blinking blandly.
“We all do what we can to produce our heir as quickly as possible. That way you’re free of us sooner rather than later.
Your heat gives us the best odds, biologically, but a lot can be done in two months. ”
God. Of course this man knows exactly when my heat is due.
I bet he has a chart somewhere. Though, of these three, Rhys actually strikes me as Most Likely to Graph Sexual Potential for some reason.
But I know something none of these assholes do.
With careful casualness, I toss my hair back and tilt my head. Going for a blasé kind of curiosity. “And what happens if I do all this and still don’t produce your precious heir? I’m just stuck here for eternity? Sounds like a bad deal on my part.”
Cillian’s eyes trace every line of my face. And, for a moment, I could swear his mouth almost twitches.
“An excellent point, Mrs. Blackwood. If we’re unsuccessful by the end of your heat, our pack will furnish a separate residence for you.
Hired cars, security, a generous allowance.
You’ll be free, for all intents and purposes.
We’ll only expect you to return for high-level social events and your heats.
Otherwise, you can do whatever you wish.
” A warning note bleeds into his voice. “Within reason.”
Ooh, he’s possessive, my Omega swoons. Or maybe just protective. Either way—
I toss her an exasperated look. Seriously?!
I’m just saying, she cries. Those are good traits during a heat!
I’ve never really had one before, so I’ll have to take her word for it. Besides, at this point, what is my alternative? Rhys has a point, damn him—I can’t go into heat alone. And I really don’t want my first time to happen when I can’t understand what’s going on.
But—God—what would agreeing mean? Would they share me? At the same time? Or turn this into some sort of twisted Sex Chore Wheel so they can take turns coming to my bed every night?
And no, that concept is not making these stupid, useless panties wetter…
Let alone the clenching flesh under them.
Shit, shit, shit.
“I need time,” I decide, spinning my panic into forcefulness I do not feel. “To decide.”
Cillian picks up his wineglass, slowly sipping. Regarding me with the cool command of a king. Or a god. “Two days.”
“Two weeks.”
“One day,” he tosses back, eyes shifting again.
I bare my teeth in a snarl, gritting, “One week.”
That time, his half-smile truly does break free. “Deal.”