4. Rolly
Rolly
“Dum, dum, dum, da, da, da.”
I look both ways down the corridor, and as soon as I see the empty hall with its rich burgundy carpet; I dance down it until I find her door. The handle is gold and elaborate, exactly like that pompous alpha Blaze. So over the top. I depress the handle, and to no one’s surprise, it’s locked.
I just grin wider. No bitches are going to keep me out. Not today, no sirrah.
It takes me less than a minute to break into the room. I slip inside and close the door as quietly as I opened it.
They say I’m crazy. Hell, I’ve even got a few official labels from the very expensive parade of doctors they brought through to cure me.
I don’t understand why they were trying to cure me when they messed me up in the first place.
I remember one of the parade of white coats said there was ‘no hope, best kill him now before he kills someone else. Put him down like he’s a rabid dog’. I cherish the night we spent together.
His screams were to die for.
My parents couldn’t be bothered to do anything with me but shunt me from hospital to institution. Anywhere that wasn’t near them. Especially after Rory went after them. We don’t have much in common, but we are family.
I bite my lower lip as I approach the bed, needing the pain to help contain the excitement. She looks too small, too bruised. Something in my chest pulls. It shouldn’t. I’ve been told there’s nothing there, but…
It’s funny in life when the but comes along. I trace one finger up the soft linen sheets, watching her face for any sign of waking, but there is nothing.
It’s like she’s a corpse. A living dead girl.
My living dead girl.
I need to see her.
I cross into the bathroom, filling some warm water into a small basin and grabbing some clothes. I sit on the edge of the bed and stroke a path along her face. With each swipe of the wet cloth, I pull and tease her out of the mess that was.
I hum as I work, and when I have her neck and face clean, I move to her thin arms. The scars I unearth shine like silver. Lines of pain that are like tiger stripes. They lash her upper body, curling from the back to the front like she’s been whipped, but not recently.
No, a scar like this would have been a long time healed.
The door opens, I don’t turn to look. Raspberry jam pervades the air, and I suddenly have a knife at my throat.
If it were anyone else, they’d be dead by now, but this omega pulls at me as strongly as the one lying in the bed.
I raise my hand and cover his, pressing the knife deeper, cutting my skin so hot blood runs in long drops down my throat and disappears under my T-shirt.
“I’ll bleed for you,” I murmur. “Omega.”
The knife doesn’t tremble, but I can feel how much the word affects him.
“What are you doing in here?”
I blink innocently as he gives up his intent to cut me open and moves around me, his eyes darting to her and returning to me.
“Why, caring for my omega, of course.”
Pix snarls and shoves a ring-laden hand through his messy dark hair. His almost-black eyes catch and hold the light like a glittering night sky. I trace the high cheekbones, the sharp jaw, and linger over the tattoo on his cheek.
“What does it mean, beloved? You put it there for a reason, why?”
“Don’t call me that,” he says absently. “And none of your business.”
I smile and watch him from under my lashes as I continue my ministrations on her delicate hands.
I could crush them and break all the bones so easily.
There is something so arousing about knowing that I could hurt her, but that I would rather stab everyone else than even think about hurting a single bone in her body.
“Merle,” I whisper. “Time to wake up now, dead girl.”
Pix snarls at me, but he doesn’t interrupt or say anything at all. Instead, he watches over her like her guardian dog.
King comes into the room. I can feel the tension radiating from Pix, but more importantly, the secret bonds we exchanged give me insight into his comings and goings.
It seemed safer not to tell anyone that he is the other half of my soul.
Learning to trust him was hard and took many years.
We spent a lot of years trying to kill each other.
He was worthy of me.
“My love, look at our dead girl. Isn’t she pretty?”
King approaches the bed, his movements slow, almost reluctant. He leans down, picking up her arm, twisting it back and forth, then moves to her neck. His mind works differently from mine, so I wait to see what he’s going to say.
“Bruises are consistent with a beating. Fingerprints on her collarbone. These bruised circlets on her arm is where the person grabbed her. This isn’t from the accident.”
Oh, no. I don’t like that information at all. I study the purple and black with deep unhappiness that starts morphing into a deadly rage.
Pix stays pressed against the wall, arms folded over his chest, watching and waiting.
“How do you know?” I ask for Pix’s benefit, giving him an indulgent smile.
“I know how to hurt people,” King murmurs. “She’s been hurt a lot. Scars on scars and bruises on bruises.”
His temper unfurls in me like a wildfire, and he starts to shake.
“Where’s that detective?” he snarls. “If he did this, I’ll kill him.”
Pix moves, kicking out with a speed I find utterly charming and, to no one’s surprise, puts King on the floor before my alpha can think.
“You don’t touch my Roseland.”
Now that is interesting. The omega’s eyes get hard. Deadly. Very interesting.
King sits there for a moment, his eyes glowing, and the rage transforming to something far more edible.
He rolls to his feet and slams Pix against the wall. The two of them fight, making a hell of a lot of noise. I turn my head to watch them, cackling, even as I continue lightly stroking her inner arm in a soothing pattern.
Blaze walks in, his satin robes swishing as he moves. “No fighting in the sickroom, King, Daega.”
Pix’s head snaps up, and he glowers. “Don’t call me that. In fact, how did you find out my name?”
“There is a gym at the end of the corridor, go and take your argument there, but you will not disrespect this omega or my house rules.” He lifts his chin. “And I called my little brother.”
“Who is your brother?” Pix growls. “I didn’t pay attention to your babbling.”
“Kota Myles. I believe you know him well?”
Pix lets off a stream of curse words that have the three of us watching him in interest.
“Why do you wear such loud clothes?” I ask, glaring at Blaze and his silk dress. He looks like an ancient warrior. Pussy.
“Because I like to look pretty,” Blaze says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
I snort my disgust and glance back at the female omega who is frowning in her sleep.
King tenses, and I wonder if he’s going to challenge Blaze again. My cock twitches just thinking about it, but at last, he backs down, storming off.
Pix lingers, tense and suspicious. He’s not scared of us, but he is nervous of Blaze. Which is frustrating as hell because when I came here, I didn’t see it. I just thought he was some fuddy duddy, robe-wearing pussy.
Except he put me on my ass. Over and over. It was fucking hot.
“Sage would like to speak to you about Aaron, Daega.”
The male omega who has almost all of my attention lingers for the count of three seconds and then darts out of the room.
Blaze stands just behind me. A presence I’m still not sure if I want to kill. I dream about it sometimes. My fingers wrapped around his pale throat, staring into those strange grey eyes. He’d smile at me as he went, I know it.
But I’m not sure I could actually succeed, so I’ve held off.
“This is good, Rolly. You’re caring for her. This is how you look after an omega.”
“I’m not looking after her, I want to see her,” I say defensively, not liking his insinuation.
Blaze shrugs his shoulders. I can almost feel him smirking. It’s annoying.
I stand up, letting her hand fall, and turn on him, smiling widely, trying to intimidate him with my crazy. He just smiles back.
“You would look so good dying for me.”
“You would look so good begging for mercy,” he says, matching me tone for tone.
I shudder, alarmed by the part of me that wants what he whispers.
He steps into me and drops his chin so it’s level with my ear.
“Like you did last week.”
I quiver. With rage! It’s all rage, and I’m not hard at all.
“You’ll pay for that, Blaze. I swear to you, I will make you pay.”
“Mmm, keep telling me about it. I look forward to your next attempt to break my rules.” He leans in and bites the shell of my ear.
My stomach flips and flops, but I soothe myself with pictures of his decapitated corpse. I deliberately tear free of him, ignoring the pain. I lift my fingers and touch my ear, knowing before I even look that the psycho has made me bleed.
“Go be a good boy and calm King down.”
I snarl, but when he looks at me and raises an eyebrow, I decide, wisely, to get as far away from him as I can. I’m not afraid, but I can’t beat him head on, and we both know it.
I stalk out, refusing to let myself glance back and look at the omega. Blaze has won this minor skirmish, but there are lots more battles to win.
Instead of going and finding King, because I never do as I’m told, fuck you very much, I go and find our other sleeping beauty, sneaking into the room of the hyper-aggressive alpha.
He’s a detective. Our enemy.
He should be in chains, locked in our basement, screaming for relief. It will be so much fun.
I approach him silently, watching his breathing and face for any sign that he’s awake.
“Hello, Mr policeman.”
He doesn’t move a muscle.
I reach out and grab a handful of the blanket and tug it down, exposing thick, corded forearms and a cheap but practical watch. Interesting.
His shirt has been removed now, and it’s clear he works out, though he’s not as built as King. His chest is smooth and tanned, but there’s a deep scar just above his lower left hip. A knife wound. I reach out and trace the spot before I press in, watching to see if he moves.
He doesn’t even flinch. The drugs must be good.
There’s a patch of skin where I need to leave my mark. I pull out my knife almost without thinking, bringing it towards his chest slowly, reverently.
Another blade presses against my throat, and I freeze, not moving an inch, my knife held poised in the air over the sleeping beauty’s chest.
It’s just a hint of jam, just the tiniest amount that lets me know who is here.
Annoyance flares up. I want him to be jealous and protect me. I want his attention on me. Not this idiot who can’t even protect himself from a needle.
“Step away from Roseland.”
I smile at the grim death in his voice. Every second spent flirting with this omega is magic.
“Make me.”
The danger in the air is delicious.
He leans in, and that’s when his omega biology surfaces. His scent thickens, it turns syrupy sweet and invades every part of me. I press back, and now my back is pressed to his chest, the knife still at my throat, though I suspect his attention isn’t quite on killing me anymore.
I pant and writhe against him, desperate to plunge my knot into his holes. How can I have him? What would it take?
“Do you want to commit murder with me, Omega?” I whisper, trying to win him over.
He inhales shakily. I can feel it in every part of my body that is pressed to his. I bite my lower lip and resist the urge to grind against him.
“Only if it’s yours,” he says shortly, retracting his knife and pushing me off him. I land on my hands, leaning over the detective, staring at the various shades of brown in his hair and how soft it looks.
“Rolly,” Sage warns.
Ugh, when did he get here? Daddy and Mummy have spoken, and now there are no toys.
I sigh with disappointment and push up from the bed.
“I just wanted to look at him,” I whine.
“Then I saw a spot, and it said ‘brand me’. I just needed to put my mark on him. He’s…
” I frown, trying to understand the thought.
“He’s…mine? Roseland would look good with a blood smiley face.
” I throw my head back and laugh to cover that weird lapse.
Sage narrows his eyes but doesn’t call me on my crap. I’m not sure what to think of him or Blaze. My instincts say they are both incredibly dangerous, but they have it so deeply buried that I haven’t been able to provoke it out of them yet.
Detective Aaron Roseland wakes up and sits upright. He lunges for me, his strong fingers wrap around my throat, his teeth bared in rage.
In his eyes, I see my death, I see so much. He’s like us. He just needs a push.
I gasp, unable to breathe, but so enchanted by the aggression he is bestowing on me. He is pretty when he’s all murderous.
“Roseland, let him go,” Pix snarls and punches him in the stomach.
The detective doesn’t even flinch. It’s like he was never hit. So fucking hot.
Sage approaches and stands right beside the detective, his lips almost pressed to his cheek. “Aaron, you aren’t there anymore. You are safe. In my house. No one will hurt you.”
“I might!” I get out through a strangled whine. “God, this is so exciting.”
“Shut the fuck up, Rolly.”
Aaron Roseland blinks his grey-blue eyes. I see the moment they widen, the moment he realises he’s becoming a killer just like me. He tosses me aside and gets up, his whole self radiating rage.
“If you try to put me under again, I will peel the skin from your body and watch the ants eat you.”
OH. MY. GOD.
“I’m keeping him!” I whisper shout. “He’s mine. Shotgun. I want him. All of him.”
Sage just lets out one of his irritatingly mocking laughs and glides out of the room, leaving me, the omega, and the detective I am now half sure I’m in love with alone.