2. Bethany
Chapter two
Bethany
I pull back when I remember who the hell I am and struggle past him. It is far too dangerous remaining in his presence. He’s obviously far too potent to be allowed near people, and I am a weak omega currently. Weak and needy.
If I had alphas like these, I’d never leave the bed. They are so, so hot.
I jolt. They’re alphas. I hadn’t been aware of it on a conscious level, but now that I am, I catch the scent of licorice and taste it on my lips. The delicious scent almost makes me groan. I could lick him all day, all over and keep going.
Send help!
In the room that appears to be some kind of employee lounge or office or both, the guy with violet and silver hair is leaning over a computer screen, intently staring at some black and white footage. He frowns and turns, gesturing for me to come closer. He points, and I watch a woman pick up my bag and quickly exit the bar.
“Can we catch her?” I ask anxiously, unknowingly clenching my fingers around the hard heat of his shoulder. As soon as I realise, I jump back with a squeak.
“Listen, love, the chances of being able to find this person, let alone recover your bag, are about zero.”
I stand there, my ears ringing as my existence crumbles around me. My situation is compounding on me, leaving me shaking and dizzy. Homeless. No food, water, job, money, clothes. All I have left is my body.
Am I going to have to sell that?
“Hey? You all right?”
I shake my head. No, I’m not all right, I haven’t been all right since I left home. I’ve been running, trying to find the something better to prove that I can be someone, and all I’ve done is fail. Over. And. Over. What is so unloveable about me? Why don’t I deserve love?
I reach out to catch the wall, but I miss and end up staggering back, my legs collapsing. Arms catch me and hoist me up.
“What’d you do to her, Saint?”
The violet and silver-haired man glares at whoever is holding me.
When my legs still don’t hold me, I’m lifted bridal style into powerful arms. I find myself studying the sexy bartender, I stare at his strange eyes, hypnotized. So pale with those striking rings. Is he wearing contacts?
“No, I’m not.”
I blink and realise he’s answered my question.
Crow gets all up and over me, causing my stomach to flutter wildly. I can still taste him on my lips. I stiffen as he reaches out, putting a finger under my chin and turning my head towards him.
“What was in the bag?”
I burst into tears. “Everything.”
Hunter jostles me and moves to sit down. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be just fine. Just get it out. You’re safe here.”
I cry until my eyes feel puffy and fall silent. His hand strokes my upper arm and we’ve got an audience of two peering at me anxiously.
“Have you got somewhere to stay?” Hunter asks slowly. His voice is deeper than the other two.
I open my mouth, and then shut it with a snap.
“Money?”
My cheeks burn.
“Family?”
I look down at my hands.
“I’m guessing the only clothes you’ve got are what you’re wearing?”
“I’ll be fine,” I whisper.
“I don’t think so,” Hunter says with finality. “What’s your name?”
“Bethany Raines.”
“Bethany, beautiful name,” Crow purrs and comes in with a black silk handkerchief that he uses to mop up my tears and wipe my nose.
I’m too astounded by his actions to even think about protesting. I just stare at him because no one has done that for me since I learned to walk.
They seem to stop and have this silent conversation. It reminds me so much of Kelly and Raider that another pathetic tear slips from my eye. I miss them so much.
“Right, well. Here we are. You’re just going to have to come home with us until we can get you on your feet.”
I open my mouth, but Crow presses his fingers against my mouth.
“No, love. You need help. Don’t be proud. Don’t say thank you. Just come home with us and let us take care of you.”
I blink. “Am I dead?”
Hunter snorts, and then starts to laugh.
“You’re not dead,” Saint says with a growl. He combs his fingers through his hair and leans back. I’m not sure how, but the violet and silver hair looks even better after he ran his fingers through it.
I nod. “Are you high? Are you going to take my kidneys and sell them?”
For some reason, this seems to absolutely crack the bartender up, and he puts me down so he can convulse in the corner.
I watch him with a worried frown. “Seriously, people don’t do nice things like this.”
“We do,” Saint growls.
“And your name is Saint? Are you trying to get that status?” I ask cautiously.
Saint stands up, and my mouth goes dry. He doesn’t look like a saint; he looks like a fallen angel, so intensely beautiful that it hurts to look at him, and yet, sex appeal oozes off him.
“No, baby, I’m not Saint-like at all. It is, however, my last name. I’m Keller Saint. That idiot still laughing is Dale Hunter, and this is Oli Crow.”
I peer at them.
“And we’re Pack Crow.”
I swallow hard as I turn to peer at the alpha who has moved to sit so close to me that his thigh is heating mine.
“How does a pack decide what pack name to take?” I ask absently and blush. It’s a bad habit of mine, just asking random questions when I’m nervous. I ramble, too.
“Well, we decide. Which name fits us best? Which one feels right? Some packs take unfamiliar names, some take names of what they are. I heard there’s a band that has their pack name as the band’s name,” Hunter says with a great deal of mirth.
“Yeah, Fate’s Choice, right?” Crow says. “Pack Fate. But we are Crow. We are city-dwelling alphas who stay in a flock, collecting pretty things.”
I shift nervously, putting some space between us. “That makes you sound like a deranged serial killer. Just saying.”
That sets Hunter off again. I watch him until he sobers, his eyes meeting mine as he ducks his head and holds back another grin.
“The only way you might die is in my arms, happy after I bring you to heaven,” Crow says with a cheesy wink.
I groan. “Terrible, terrible line.”
Crow beams at me. “I have so many more.”
“All right, we have a few more hours here. You can stay here and sleep if you want.”
I hesitate. I’m supposed to be finding alphas to help me with my heat. It should be here within the week. I can’t lose this chance.
I chew over it, and then glance up, finding it easier to talk to Saint than the other two. But just as I open my mouth, I can’t even think of how to say it. My cheeks burn, and I squirm on the seat, restlessly trying to sink into the lounge and be swallowed whole.
“I have a…”
“Your heat is close. You have no alphas? And you’re asking if we would see you through it?” Saint says with no sign of judgement.
It’s both terrifying and gratifying that he can see straight through me, that he seems to know what I’m about to ask without me even saying anything.
“Yes,” I squeak out.
“We know. Every alpha can smell your unbonded heat coming, Omega. You smell like passion fruit. My mouth waters. All I want to do is get on my knees and taste.” He blinks and turns away.
I shiver at the word omega, and then shudder as the rest of what he said sinks in. It never fails to give me tingles even as I hate being reduced to a designation, but the rest of it…no one has ever spoken to me like that before.
I’m speechless and aroused.
“We can help you or find some other safe alphas for you to see your heat through with.”
I blink rapidly. More accursed tears welling up. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because once upon a time, we had nothing and no one, and someone gave us a leg up, and that leg up was all we needed. You have fire in you, you aren’t quitting. That’s good. So, let us help you.”
I bite my lower lip and dip my head. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“Good. Stay here. I’ll have Eric bring in some food,” Saint says and rises. He moves so elegantly as he leaves the room without a backwards glance, I can’t help but stare.
Hunter tilts his head to the side and smiles. “I’m really glad you walked into our bar tonight, Bethany.”
I love the way he says my name. Like I’m special. Like I’m precious.
And then he’s gone, too, leaving me with Crow, who reaches out and draws patterns on the back of my hand with his index finger.
I shiver at the feel of it, warm and rough. He works with his hands a lot, I can tell, but he knows just the right pressure to press with, just the right lightness.
“What do you do, Crow?”
“Here? A bit of everything.”
I duck my head and suck in a startled breath as he leans closer, lifting my hair and pushing it over one shoulder. He kisses the side of my neck. My moan startles both of us. Crow stands up, putting his hands in his pockets, and stepping back.
I watch him warily.
“I’ll supervise your food and bring it to you so you don’t have to deal with Eric.”
“Crow?”
“Yes, beautiful Bethany?”
“Thank you.”
“Uh-uh, we said none of that.”
I stare at him as he winks and backs out of the room. Is this a dream? I’m still half-convinced I must be dead. The three most perfect alphas in the world are rescuing me.
They are going to help me with my heat.
I shift on the seat and look around the room. It’s furnished with three couches and a massive desk with multiple screens. There’s a fridge and a whiteboard. But it’s the grey material that makes me get up and scurry across the room.
I lift it up and inhale.
Coffee, not bitter but sweeter. Oh, god, it smells so good. I pull it on and go back to the couch.
I try to stay awake, I really do, but it pulls me under. I’m exhausted and tired of being on alert, vigilant against the dangers of being hungry and thirsty. Sleeping in the cold. This couch is the nicest thing I’ve sat on in months.
I don’t have to worry about any of that.
Not tonight.
And that’s more than enough for me.