Chapter Sixteen
CAINE
Fucking. Brat.
He’d stormed in here, fussing about being watched, had me swear I’d never use the surveillance to spy on him, but then he decided to change the rules?
Winking at me once he was done? His intention was to rile me.
A twisted powerplay. He’d made his displeasure known, but reconsidered and wanted it established in HD that there wasn’t a single goddamn thing I could do about it.
He was fickle, but fuck, he’d looked like temptation incarnate.
The dress, his hair hanging free from its usual tie.
He’d put on a show, presented himself to me like a feast, and I couldn’t take my eye off him.
The way he’d angled his body, his thighs spread, I saw everything.
His hole clutching the toy, his slick soaking into the pillow beneath him.
How his jaw had fallen slack and he’d bared his throat, beguiling me for his own amusement.
His filthy mouth would be my undoing. His taunts.
I’d wanted to march to his room and take him right there on the floor, to lift him off the toy and drive into him until he sobbed for mercy and was left with no doubt that nothing could replace the pleasure I gave him.
But I hadn’t. I was a man of my word, and it wasn’t what he’d wanted, even if he was imagining it.
He’d ridden that silicone cock thinking of me, and all I could do was watch.
I leaned back in my office chair, prising my fingers from my dick. It was still at half-mast, a stiff wind away from being raring to go again. It was late. I doubted I’d get much sleep, but I couldn’t sit here until morning, stroking myself and dirtying the floor. There was work to do.
I reached into my bottom drawer for the pack of wipes I kept there. At least I’d had enough function to untuck and loosen my shirt, so I only had to clean the cum from my stomach and clinging to my fingers and cock. I’d shower later.
Soiled wipes disposed of, I fastened the buttons on my shirt and trousers, and removed my eyedrops from the open drawer.
I unscrewed the lid, tipping my head back to apply them.
My patch already lay on the desk. I’d taken it off before my phone pinged with the notification, as I typically did at night for a hint of reprieve—once I was certain of no visitors.
In here, I could switch off the main light, the lamp in the far corner offering a bearable, dim glow, and allow the eye a chance to breathe.
Without an audience to witness it.
I was buckling my belt when I heard movement on the camera, Dylan’s room still vivid on my phone screen.
I sat up, watching as he rose on shaking legs, gathering up the pillow and discarded sheath.
He looked wrecked but satisfied, a dopey, contented smile etched onto the corner of his lips.
He walked away leisurely, and I reached forward to disconnect the feed, but he paused.
My fingers hovered in midair as he turned back around, those dark eyes finding the lens again. His smile was softer.
“Good night, Caine.”
My chest was tight, and before I realised my mouth was opening, I said, “Good night.”
He wandered into the bathroom.
I locked my screen.
For a moment, I sat there, gazing at nothing, my thoughts straying.
When had it become like this? I recalled the day in the kitchen, how I’d spent the afternoon in his company, sharing in his interests with hardly any reluctance.
How I’d slipped up, calling him darling after my stomach had twisted from seeing him in pain and my first compulsion was to soothe him.
How I’d been keenly aware of his face lighting up.
I couldn’t afford to lower my guard, yet somehow, Dylan knew the right buttons to push to make it happen regardless.
He was chipping away at my stony exterior, and we hadn’t spent a heat or rut together in over a month, so I couldn’t even condemn hormones.
I desired him, that much was apparent. I wasn’t too proud to admit there was physical attraction, but I’d felt attraction before.
I’d had people in my bed, and outside it, and my lust for them had never heightened my need to provide and protect.
It was his scent. I was ensnared by how it served me, and in turn, it lessened my hostility. Lessened my resistance to instinct. He was still an omega, and I was still in an arrangement I never wanted. But it was amicable. Tolerable.
I didn’t despise it entirely.
His attitude was a factor. It was thrilling, sparring with him.
It entertained me, especially after spending days with those who bowed to my every command.
Not having to contend with a demure and submissive omega in my home, glued to me, made it bearable.
He minded his business, didn’t clamber for my attention despite my disinterest, and it suited me.
Perhaps even granted me more inclination to seek him out, or present him with simple comforts since he wasn’t demanding them.
He still tap danced on every one of my nerves.
It wasn’t only the reminder of what his presence here represented, he was just too stubborn for his own good, being difficult for the sake of getting the last word in.
It was arousing and infuriating in equal measure, but I was beginning to suspect there was a reason for it—a survival mechanism, a fight response to prevent him from displaying what he perceived as weakness.
He was hiding, not only from me but the outside world, and recognising that had me aiming to provide him with an environment where he felt safe to let go.
It was our proximity. His pheromones. Basic Alpha and omega impulses.
Greed for the strength I felt after fucking him.
I knew that. I’d been seduced by it all in spite of my determination to evade it.
I’d thought my past would be enough of a deterrent, but for whatever reason, the memories weren’t effective against Dylan.
I reclined in my chair again, flexing my stiff fingers.
It didn’t matter. Not now. As long as my mind remained alert enough to strategize and prepare, what occurred in the background was immaterial.
For my own sanity, I was persevering in a situation I didn’t ask for, engaging a truce, which was all I could do.
And if part of said truce extended to leaving Dylan a gift now and then, or investing more consideration toward him, it was purely for the sake of peace and pretext.
Nothing more.
“Where was he found?”
“District thirty-eight,” Tobias answered as I inspected the body at my feet.
An Alpha. From my pack. “There’s nothing on him to suggest it was a deliberate act against you.
It’s a rough area, and Jes was known to pick fights.
It could have nothing to do with the elites.
” He cocked his head. “Would be one hell of a coincidence, though.”
District thirty-eight. The Den. It had to be retaliation; the location was too specific.
It was where it had all started. Where I’d met Dylan.
They’d known of him from the second I’d walked out the door.
They’d tracked him, figured out he was carrying my child, and seized their opportunity.
I’d already presumed it—since the day Dylan came to ask for my aid—but this was solid proof, not speculation or deduction. They were showing their hand.
They were boasting.
“You called forensics?” I asked, though Tobias was competent. The question was unnecessary.
“She’s on her way,” he confirmed. “If they left even a flake of skin, Zoya will find it. Then we’ll finally have a lead.”
I hadn’t expected it so soon. I’d predicted they would need more time to lick their wounds, to taunt me again before making a significant move—especially one so final. They were clearly done waiting.
As was I.
All I needed was their DNA, their name, and I could cut them out at the root.
I was ready now, to bring my entire force down on their heads.
To wipe out every last trace of their bloodline for daring to even think they could fuck with mine, but I had to be certain.
If I acted too early, without solid evidence, it would backfire.
I’d be the antagonist. While I couldn’t give two shits if the elites regarded me with contempt, I had a mate and child to think of, a legacy, and I wouldn’t endanger it by being reckless.
The Devereuxes had the strength to destroy a single pack, perhaps even two, but five against one?
It was risky. My patience was limited, non-existent really, but I wouldn’t bring our empire down around us for the sake of delaying a few more days.
Even if my bloodlust was devouring me alive.
“What’s the plan?”
I considered Tobias’s question. “We’ll have three days at most,” I said. “We confirm preparations are in place for every eventuality, and ready the pack for a wipeout. As soon as those results are in my ear, Raegan will contact the pack leaders to ensure there’s no interference. And then—”
My brother vocalised an explosion from his spot in the corner, flexing his fingers. “Big fight.”
I sighed internally. “They won’t go down without taking some of us with them, but if we employ every unit at our disposal, strip them of their assets before marching on their capital, it should lessen our casualties. They’ll be expecting us, so let’s make an entrance.”
Aaron’s grin was feral.
“I’ll take Minseo for her designation test in the morning.” I clenched my jaw at the thought.
I had hoped to delay it as long as possible, but regrettably, my hands were tied.
She was signed as my successor, but owing to bullshit protocol, without confirmation of an Alpha status, should anything happen, her claim would be unstable.
I had no intention of dying in the feud, but this was a precaution.
An assurance that she was under no threat of being usurped before my body was even cold.
“Seb can’t do it?” Tobias asked. His expression mirrored the exasperation I felt.