Chapter 26
MORGAN
I don’t see Jamie again until we’re about to go on stage. The time apart made the beast furious, but it also increased that inner distance, so my control is solid again.
Jamie seems to be in a good mood, so Eileen did her job.
“Too busy to come shopping?” he teases as I meet him backstage.
“With all the time in the world, I wouldn’t care for it. I knew you’d like it, though. And get on with Eileen. You’re both… gatherer types.”
“Which makes you a hunter?”
“In every sense.” I flash a practiced smile.
“Eileen says she’s going to make you share me now. So, I think it went well.”
The beast bristles, considers snapping Eileen’s throat.
I say, “I’m glad to hear that.”
We go out on stage and take our usual seats. This stage is smaller, his chair a fraction closer. His scent fills my head, working its way down my throat.
I tap the inside edge of the chair as I meander through my prepared answers, precisely timing every pause and hesitation to make my words seem authentic and off-the-cuff.
I don’t really hear what Jamie and the host say when they’re not addressing me.
I catch myself tapping out the letters of his name.
Only the beast shying away from the blinding spotlights preserves the distance I need. The beast is still there, still seething. But I remain in control.
For now, the beast snarls.
As we step backstage, I take a call I would have normally skipped. It’s a good excuse to get some breathing room. Once it’s over, I return to the reception, keeping to the side of the room opposite him. I stand under an air vent for a steady supply of clean air.
When he wanders my way, I head for the bar. He comes for a drink, and I go stand in a bathroom stall for exactly ninety-seven seconds.
He’s clearly seeking me out—but staying subtle, trying to hide it. Or maybe he doesn’t even know how his instincts are moving him.
Either way, I’m even subtler.
I fall into conversation with a local tycoon, chatting about how we can apply his funds to the international lobby, but it only takes half my brain. I can make these deals on autopilot. The other half plans ahead. That ‘next best’ room will not be acceptable tonight.
That stupid room with the stupid hot tub and that stupid bed and his scent filling my brain and my claws in the mattress and—
“Hunter, everything alright?” asks the tycoon.
A little smile comes to my lips. “Sorry, I got some fresh data this morning. Something just clicked about the new formula.”
“The blessing and curse of genius, eh?”
“Quite. So you were asking about the projections…”
Right when I finish planning out the night, a male voice cuts across the room.
“Mor ‘the Bulldog’ Hunter, fancy seeing you here.” There’s a musical ring to the deep voice, and a confidence that borders on command.
The beast’s hackles go up, and approaching with confident strides is the only thing that could possibly get the beast’s attention off of Jamie. In three pieces of Italian heirloom wool, with oiled back hair sporting a streak of orange and an intentionally timed five-o’clock shadow, is competition.
“Tobias, you asshole,” I say, stepping over to shake the other alpha’s hand and clap him on the shoulder. “You said you weren’t coming.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me.”
“Fine, fine.” The concession is calculated, planned, perfectly synthesized charisma. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“And why is that?” I already know the answer.
“You like surprises.”
I hate Tobias. With a passion. On the street, he likes to play like he can make any female alpha his bitch. In the sheets, he’s got a wicked humiliation kink and wants desperately to be topped. It’s insufferable.
It’s exactly what I need right now.
#
JAMIE
My whole body goes stiff with the smell. Bergamot, black pepper, and tobacco. Another alpha. One not taking suppressants.
I don’t need to see anything but the sheer bulk of him to find him in the crowd.
Others would focus on his pointed ears, the orange streak in his hair, his bright amber eyes.
But I already know he’s an alpha, so what I’m seeing instead is the expensive cut of his suit, the Rolex on his wrist, shoes I recognize from the window of a shop that only sells customs.
He’s Morgan’s perfect match in every way.
The omega in me aches.
But no… it’s not the omega. The omega is wary, alert, and wants to move to a position that puts Morgan between me and this new threat, this unknown alpha.
It’s my human heart that aches.
Because I know what the light in Morgan’s eye means, the way she clasps his shoulder, the sharp attention that follows his every move.
Her voice rings out as clearly through the room as it always does. Tobias is his name.
I can’t doubt it as they go get drinks together, banter bouncing off each other with all the skill and ferocity of an Olympic tennis match.
It’s certain when I see the hunger in Morgan’s eyes as she takes the other alpha in.
This must be what it looks like when Morgan is attracted to someone. And she never looks like that at me.
#
MORGAN
I’m in the back of a limo that reeks of cheap air freshener, the city lights a blur beyond the tinted windows.
Tobias cracks a bottle of red that he thinks will impress me. It’s overpriced, tasteless swill from an artless vineyard and a shit year.
I down half the bottle on the ten-minute ride, anyway.
God, it’s going to feel good to wipe that smirk off his face.
We’re in the elevator up to his room, and he says something stupid and glib. I grab him by the collar and cover his mouth with mine.
He returns the kiss with equal violence, trying to push me into the elevator wall.
I twist him off balance and slam his back against the metal instead.
We’re growling and moaning and clawing, and the elevator doors open midway up, revealing a few people waiting to board.
They wisely stay frozen, not daring to enter, and the doors close again, taking us the rest of the way to the top.
Of course Tobias got the fucking penthouse with the whole city sold out. He would have marched up to the top and physically removed whoever else had been there.
I would have too, if not for Jamie. I’m going soft.
The thought of the little omega sends a surge of fury and heat through my body, and I rake my claws down Tobias’s front, slicing through the threads of his buttons.
We wrestle our way down the hallway between the elevator and the suite door, knocking a priceless vase to the floor and setting a painting off-kilter.
Tobias has to pull away to wrestle with the door key, and I breathe down his neck.
“What’s the matter, Toby? Can’t get it in?” I palm his cock through his pants, claws digging into the fabric. He’s already throbbing for me.
“Shut the fuck up,” he snaps, and he gets the door open.
I shove him through, knocking him off-balance enough that I can pin him against the wall, but he twists and throws me back onto a couch. As he goes to pounce, I get my legs up under me and launch him back over the coffee table, and he rolls and lands on his feet.
We clash again at the center of the room, and I get my hand around the back of his head, pulling him into another kiss as his claws tear into my shirt.
We twist back and forth like this until our clothes are in tatters on the floor, our bodies lined with scratches. The pain grounds me, fuels me.
I let him think he has me pinned. That’s Tobias’s weakness—always has been, always will be.
As he sneers, I get a knee up and knock the wind out of him, flipping him onto his back, sinking my teeth into his neck.
God, it feels good. I bite hard, fangs lengthening, and Tobias hisses. He’s not an omega, so there’s no specialized gland there to burst and flood his body with that oxytocin-like hormone that will seal him to me, imprint him with my scent.
There’s just muscle and blood and pain. The pain surprises him long enough for me to pin his wrists above his head and hook my ankles around the inside of his legs, my shins pressed against his knees.
He struggles, but I keep my weight over him. I have the leverage, especially since Tobias’s build is uneven, focused on impressive numbers in the gym and not all-around performance.
Our shins grind into each other, and it hurts me as much as it hurts him, but I have the higher pain tolerance.
“I win,” I sneer.
Tobias struggles again, testing me, demanding all of my strength, and the beast sings at the challenge.
I stay on top.
Tobias pants, his pupils widening. His cock throbs between my legs, bobbing against the front of my pelvis.
“You’re never going to get free if you don’t keep that blood in your muscles,” I tease. I shift slightly, grinding the front of my hips against his cock, sending his breath shuddering.
“You fucking bitch,” he grates through his teeth.
He hates that this turns him on as much as I hate him.
“Did you really think you were going to end up on top tonight?” I mock.
Tobias growls, no smugness or humor left on his face.
I laugh—cold, merciless. “Oh, Tobias. You always were stupid.”
He struggles against me again, to no avail.
“And weak.”
I angle my hips to drag my cunt against Tobias’s cock, and his eyes roll back.
“I bet I don’t even have to take you inside to make you cum tonight.”
Tobias’s hips buck up into me.
“Greedy, greedy,” I mock.
Tobias spits at me.
I grind my shinbone into his knee until he whimpers.
“Not so tough now, are you?” I hiss.
The pain turns him on even more, and I resume rocking against his cock.
He trembles, eyes rolling back. I can tell he’s not going to last long.
“You know what the saddest part is… I would take your cock, just to pleasure myself, except it’s such a pathetic little prick it won’t do me any good.”
Tobias moans deeply, cock twitching hard. He’s about to cum.
I lift my cunt away.
Tobias’s eyes go wide, and he struggles against me, bucking his hips in a futile effort to get the sensation he craves.
“Ah ah,” I say.
Tobias growls as his body backs down from the edge.
“Poor little alpha. You’re not used to not getting what you want.” I lower my cunt again, and he shudders.