Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
Lizette
“ L ook,” Darcy, the blonde goddess, says, dumping the tray on the bed. “I get it. I do.”
She so doesn’t. It’s in her tone.
“They’re hot, but don’t give your kind a bad name by humping legs just because they’re alphas. It’s not cool.”
Warmth flares. My energy banks are almost at full again, and I want to put the whole incident down as vulnerable because I gave in to a few tears. But it wasn’t that.
I wanted him.
The shame’s heavy and hot and cloying. “I just want to go home, Darcy.”
Her gaze shifts to me. Then she nods. “Fuck, do you have to look so woebegone? They’re a good outfit. And the pack’s tight. I’m allowed to be with who I want when this vile society wouldn’t allow it. But they do. Dante, Knight, Reaper.”
Reaper? The one I haven’t met. The one I’ve smelled. Dark and wild sex, he chases me in my dreams, a shadow with teeth and rough hands. Of incomparable softness and violence .
That’s what I’ve dreamt in all my feverish and pain filled dreams. “He’s one of the alphas?”
She doesn’t answer.
I sigh. “And your man, why…?”
“He’s a beta, I’m a gamma, and we should never touch in the society the Council set up.”
“My father hated their rules and restrictions, too.”
“And where’s he?”
I steel myself. “Dead. An accident. I…I’m still dealing.”
Darcy nods. “How are the clothes?”
“Too tight? Too not me. I prefer my own stuff.” I stop, swallow, drag out my manners as I pick up a water bottle and take a drink. “But I’m very grateful for something clean.”
She isn’t my friend and my longing for a cure for loneliness must be making her uncomfortable. It does for me. I’m way too aware of my own pathetic ways.
“I just…” I search for the words. “I’m ready to go home.”
Darcy moves about the room, collecting the towels I used for my shower. There’s a pile of basic cotton panties that give me rushes of panic and unease, because they tell me I’m not going anywhere.
As do the clothes that are folded. I’m not sure they’re hers. They’re all clean, though. And they fit. A little too well. I’m not overly tall, but I’m not in Darcy’s league of fit and built.
And unease slides cold in my bones at those.
I meant it when I said I want to go home.
But it’s also a place I can’t stay. Even if I lie to the Council about when I’m going into heat, it’ll just buy me a handful of days.
“You know, Lizette, if you were smart, instead of plotting on how to get out of here, you could make this work.”
I shake my head, push the tray away and draw my legs up. “I don’t want to be mated to someone. I don’t want to be owned by an alpha, let alone three.” Then I frown. “How does that work here, exactly? ”
Darcy laughs and collects the wine glass Knight set down. “Oh, hell, girl, they don’t do that. These guys live outside of Council run society so they don’t have to mate and have kids. Pups. Whatever the popular term is these days. They don’t want any of it. They don’t want an omega.”
“So, if I’m smart, I should go.”
“No, honey, if you’re smart, you’d find a way to stay which doesn’t include sex to become a part of the pack. A free omega. Under their protection. That’s smart.”
It sounds like a prisoner by a different name.
At least if I get out of here, I get to go home. For a few hours or a night. I’m not ready to just let go of Dad without that small goodbye.
“If I don’t want to be smart?”
She shrugs. “I’m not privy to their plans or thoughts on you. But…I’d make up my mind. Fast.”
When she goes, I let my mind trail over what she said, follow the paths. But I know deep down this is the same as being forced to be some old alpha’s mate. A prisoner’s a prisoner, no matter what it’s called.
I eat slowly, deliberately. What I want to do is cram the food in, fast. But I take it slow to let my body get used to it after those few days of not eating—my last meal was the soup and sandwich, the last thing I could eat before the heat took me down its twisted rabbit hole.
When I’m done, I stand, feeling stronger, more centered. Calmer.
Last time I checked for a way to escape, I was half mindless. This time… This time I’m awake. I’m over my heat and recovered.
I want out.
Who could blame me, anyway? I search the room, checking behind the large painting of some beach at sunset—a weirdly generic and benign thing for the Unholy Trinity to have in their underground lair .
They don’t want me to stay, surely, not after what I did.
I look around, under and behind everything for a secret control panel or something that’ll open up and let me go free. Surely they’re the types to have secret tunnels so they can escape in a moment’s notice.
There are no CCTV cameras, no telltale little hidden nanny cams in the lamps or on the TV. With a breath held tight and burning in my lungs, I go to the door.
I try the handle. It rattles but the stupid thing’s locked.
A small cry breaks free.
Christ, still stuck here, under lock and key. I mean, I remember Darcy pointing out I couldn’t leave even if I escaped the room, so why lock the door?
What? Am I going to walk in on them all having some kind of pack orgy?
I place a shaking hand to my mouth. My knowledge of packs is very sketchy. Dad told me bare bone basics, but we kept to the outsiders, the shunned, those who weren’t registered.
The Unholy Trinity can’t want me here, they can’t. Not after I tried to hump two of them. Those memories swing into the front of my brain under bright lights randomly now I’m back to normal.
Those memories fueled fantasies when I was out of my mind with my heat. And even with the O-blockers they gave me, I still had fevered dreams.
Of course, then there was the kiss.
Not long ago with that delicious and gorgeous Knight.
I smile, a little dreamy with the happy feeling wafting through my limbs. Knight’s the perfect name. He saved me, gave me untold pleasure I’d never even thought could happen, and he kisses like a dream. He really is a knight.
“Woah.” I slam on the thought breaks. What am I doing? My first kiss and orgasm when on the cusp of heat and I think I’m crushing hard.
Dimples and curling hair and a mouth made for pleasure and sin isn’t worth shit when Mr. Dimples is one of my captors. Nothing more and everything less.
There’s nothing to read in here, and I don’t want to watch TV. The news depresses me and stupid shows and movies really aren’t going to hold my attention.
“And why do they care about who Dad is?” I close my eyes. “Was.”
The name, Elias Enver, still sticks in my throat. The thread of betrayal winding tight around me when that horrible, hot and dangerous Dante treated me like dirt, dismissed me as a nuisance and a drunk, asked about him is still there. Even if Elias was Dad’s real name—and I’m more than aware it makes perfect sense why Dad didn’t tell me or that he had a different name to the one I grew up with—why was Dante interested?
The questions threaten to add to the frustration and anger in me and crush me into the floor. I make myself breathe.
“Dad would tell you to leave all that behind for later. He’d tell you to deal with your current problem. This room.”
I’m locked in here. No way out, except through the door.
If I can get out of the room, I'll have a better chance of planning my next move.
I’m not strong, but I’m smart.
Maybe I can talk to them, convince them. After all, they clearly don’t want the Council or the cops here, looking for me. They’ve got my letter; they know I’m due for an appointment any day now.
So.
First move is to get out of this room.
My ultimate goal is to get out of this damn club. Pandora’s Box is right.
“Concentrate.”
When I’ve accomplished the first move, I can work out how to make my goal happen.
So, I start to bang on the door. “I demand to speak to the alphas. Someone let me out!”
Julien, the beta, is larger than I remember.
But the big bouncer beta man doesn’t really speak. His long, dark brown hair is in a ponytail that makes him inexplicably more manly. Maybe it’s because I’m pretty sure his muscles have muscles and he sports a beard. But he’s got to be about six foot seven.
I see why Darcy is with him.
To me, he’s a giant. And when Darcy handed me to him, he even made her look short, and I’m pretty sure she’s around six foot herself.
Maybe that’s what they do here. Breed giants so they can take over the world.
I follow him up a flight of stairs where a soft thumping grows into music and low lights. As we go, I keep an eye out for an escape, but I don’t see any. Only the hall we came down, a room that looked like a fancy living room with its own bar.
No windows.
We come to a stop at an open door that leads to an entire club room that’s about as big as the one above, but more opulent, the bar expensive looking. And that’s all I see as Julien steps in front of me.
“Wait here.”
He goes in and I follow. I could run, but the only way is back down the stairs to my prison room and I’m not backtracking. Dante’s lounging against the bar watching a stage where a scantily clad woman dances.
Dante knows I’m here. I sense the vibration that connects us as it runs through him.
And Knight’s around, too. He looks over and heat streaks through me as his eyes burn with intent. His soft smile makes my knees weak.
Dante still doesn’t look at me. He moves, though, heading to the stage as he waves the woman to him. She jumps down, eager, no doubt, to be in his energy. I hate her automatically.
“God, what’s wrong with me?” I mutter under my breath.
Julien comes back. “Not good at following orders, are you?”
“Usually. But there’s just something about being locked up, y’know?”
“The other choice was you on the streets, or you at their mercy. Three alphas, Lizette. Not good. Darcy was right. Be smart.” But there’s no unkindness in his tone, only a hit of gruff that I think is him.
He leaves and suddenly Knight’s there. He smiles at me, leaning against the wall, blocking my view. “You keep being a bad girl, Liz.” He runs a finger down along my cheek then drops to my lips.
It’s butterfly light. A flirt. And my stomach flips and sighs.
“I want to go home, Knight,” I whisper.
“Yeah, but you have to behave.”
I frown. “Behaving is hard. I want to go up there and…punch him. You too, actually.” I smack his hand away and try not to think about how good he smells, how much I want another of those melting and addictive kisses from him.
“You’re a naughty, naughty girl, tempting me.” He leans in, mouth grazing my ear, and I shiver as heat and longing shoot through me. “I could get into trouble for this. He’s mad as hell.”
“So am I.” It doesn’t help that I basically pant out the words.
But he doesn’t kiss me or touch me. Knight straightens, and the charmer—I think it might be part of his actual DNA—is still there, but it’s dialed down.
“Being mad won’t help. He’s a hard bastard, but he’ll?— ”
“Don’t you say he’ll take care of me. I don’t need that. I don’t deserve to be locked up,” I say.
A smile drifts over his mouth. “Depends on how you’re locked up, and by whom.”
His meaning hits me and my face burns like fire.
“I’m trying to get you out, but we need to make sure you’re safe once you’re gone, Liz. Stay calm, and be a real good girl for Daddy—for me, I mean.” His eyes glitter as he shrugs.
He’s so not sorry.
“Be good for all of us and things will hopefully pan out.” Then he sighs and steps back. “I’ll take you to Dante.”
I follow him across the bar to where Dante’s sprawled in a chair, talking to the woman. She’s leaning forward, ass out, fantastic boobs basically in his face and falling out of her top.
It’s a position that’s completely unnecessary as he talks to her. Honestly, she’s the worst.
All he does is nod to her before the girl flashes me a glare and flounces away.
Then Dante motions to the spot she vacated.
I go and stand in front of him, the lights aimed at the stage hitting me. I can see him clearly, but I’m lit up. And I hate and lust after him even more.
“You have five minutes,” he says. “So make it fucking count.”