Chapter 3
“Why is she here?” I bit out, digging my fingernails into my palm until they stung the sensitive flesh.
Sinclair’s eyes were wide and excited, while he palmed the front of his jeans to adjust himself.
Reclining on the couch, I tipped my head back to exhale slowly in an effort to calm the thrum of my pulse. I raked my palm over my neatly styled hair, struggling not to tear my fingers through the strands.
She was here. Our Scent Match.
The one we’d found out about close to seven months ago. The Omega we actively avoided, and went as far as to file a restraining order against to ensure she kept her distance.
Luckily, Kyan had flagged the article within minutes of it being published and had it pulled in time and scrubbed from the internet.
Within hours, Sinclair had her information on my desk. Even if he thought with his cock more than anything else, one thing he did well was collect information.
We’d broken into her apartment, seeking to learn everything we could . . . and that was when her scent had hit us, a smell of freshly baked sugar cookies that had me hard and antsy within seconds. Her scent lingering after she left told me she wasn’t on any supps.
If Sinclair hadn’t been twitching with the urge to seek her out, I would have hunted her down myself. It had taken me dragging his ass away from her intoxicating pheromones for him to snap out of it, and once I left her place, I never returned.
Now she was here. Shattering every attempt to keep her away from us.
Why?
We had no need for an Omega.
Much less that one.
The handful of a bitch who didn’t keep her nose out of my pack’s business.
If her article exposing my illegal gambling hall had caught the wrong eyes, we would have ended up being stripped of our wealth and shoved into jail.
All because of her.
Her claims almost lost everything I’d sacrificed, that we’d sacrificed building. After having nothing and being exploited in vile ways, it was unacceptable.
The restraining order had been easy to file, the process seamless and quick. It helped that the judge assigned to our case had a tendency for fucking strippers. I doubted his Omega would take kindly to his proclivities, which I made exceedingly clear.
Once the documents were delivered, I heard nothing more about her.
It was better that way.
So why was she coming to fuck everything up?
“Remember what we agreed to,” I bit out.
Sinclair waved a hand, batting my words away.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he drawled, propped against the wall, a wide, toothy grin across his face. One that told me he was going to be difficult. “It doesn’t mean I can’t fuck her.”
True.
But keeping our distance was the best possible outcome.
We’d agreed, none of us was to search for the Omega, much less claim her.
Ensuring she was out of our path had been a saving grace, but I wasn’t an idiot; I knew Kyan and Sinclair were susceptible to pussy, so the faster she was gone, the better.
Now, Kyan guided her up here, after waiting three long hours for the suppressants to kick in. Having them on hand at The Bordello came in handy.
While we were on the suppressants, she wouldn’t go into heat from our scent alone, which meant we wouldn’t hit our ruts and claim her. We’d be able to control ourselves.
We will control ourselves.
I stretched my arms out, over the back of the couch, inhaling the lack of scent from the Scent-B-Gone we’d doused the lounge with.
Pheromones disappeared quickly, but tended to cling to bedding most prominently.
The remembered sugar cookie scent tickled my memory, taunting me.
It felt homey, something we’d never truly—
My cock was hard as fuck, and I didn’t even have her in the same room yet.
She deserved discomfort.
After all, we’d gotten the shit end of the stick.
She was our Omega. Our Scent Match, but we didn’t want her.
I exhaled slowly.
No one made me lose my temper. No one. And that nosy slip of an Omega wouldn’t either.
“They’re here,” Sinclair breathed, his tone seethed with anticipation.