10. Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten
Asingle black bag sat on the driver’s seat of the Ultima, the smooth leather gleaming in the dull gray light from the sky overhead.
Roman’s heart jammed itself into his throat as he scanned the parking lot around him, his eyes narrowing as he tried to gauge how safe it was to be standing around out there.
Certainly, nothing about Angel Ridge gave him the impression that anything about the town was more noteworthy than the many dozens just like it all throughout the mountains.
Just the same, it would have been dangerous to pretend as though he and Sidian weren’t traveling with targets poised on their backs.
The staff of the Bell Breeding Center had families and friends, not to mention government connections. What alphas might have been serviced in that wretched place, and what might they do to recover the omegas who might be bearing their children?
How would they even know where to find us?
He opened the car door, something catching his eye as he reached for the bag.
A small slip of white paper was folded up and taped to one of the bag handles, likely to prevent it from falling off without him noticing it.
I peeled the tape off as carefully as he could, unfolding the note to discover seven simple words greeting him in a cold, impersonal script.
We are the same. Control yourself. - Devereaux.
How did the boss know where they were?
Roman stared at the message for a moment before pocketing it and slinging the bag over his shoulder, not sure what he would find inside but no longer concerned it might be something like a bomb.
He doubted the boss trailed them in his own car; he wouldn’t have gone to the trouble just to drop off a bag and a note, busy man that he was when he wasn’t staying with the Vipers.
Though he’d never said much about what his business life included, the Devereaux fortune was vast enough to tip Roman off it could not all be legal.
But the boss funded one of the seven branches of Ouroboros. It made sense he had enough money for a messenger. Roman just didn’t know how he knew where to send that messenger.
He made a mental note to call the captain as he headed back into the inn, hoping he gave nothing away as he mounted the stairs.
The elderly woman behind the front counter didn’t so much as glance at him as she focused on what looked like a knitting project spread out across the faux granite.
There were a handful of betas sitting on plush couches next to the enormous fireplace across the room, but none of them looked at him. Everything in Angel Ridge was peaceful.
A tourist spot was a good sign. Most small towns had motels and prepared to see visitors at their establishments every so often, but for plenty of places, that was a courtesy.
It didn’t mean they wanted visitors; it meant they prepared for them because they knew such things could be inevitable, especially in a town just off the highway or on the way to a larger city or tourist site.
He and Sidian would hopefully stay long enough for him to get the information he needed to ferry them right to the front door of Pack Kincaid.
Roman would bring them to their knees as soon as he met them.
It was the least he could do for his mate’s sake.
He knocked on the door to their room, and Sidian answered a moment later, his hair slightly ruffled as he stepped back to let Roman inside.
He’d lost the jacket and, Roman realized with a raised brow, the jeans.
In just a pair of boxer briefs that clung to his plush thighs and a baggy t-shirt, Sidian looked adorably rumpled, and Roman wanted to pick him up and toss him in the nest so he could—
Stop that. You have more important things to discuss.
“Coast is clear,” he managed, ignoring how husky his own voice sounded. “What have you been up to in my absence?”
Sidian locked the door for him, then tilted his head toward the nest. “Just, uh… Getting that shit all sorted so we have somewhere to sleep tonight. Did a pretty good job for an amateur.”
Most nesting beds were similar to the one in the inn; overly large and lush, made to be comfortable for as many members of a pack as were willing to cram in beside each other.
Despite that, the padded walls of the nest were piled so thickly with pillows that Roman doubted more than just him and Sidian could fit inside.
The pillows were secured in place with a tangle of sheets, and a pile of blankets draped across the center of the bed made him long for something soft and warm.
He wanted entrance into Sidian’s nest. He just hoped his mate granted it.
A slight pressure on his shoulder dragged him back to the present, where Sidian was busy giving the zipper on the leather bag another yank. “What’s in here? Where did you get this?”
“Lorcan Devereaux had a delivery dropped off.” Roman allowed the bag to slide off of his shoulder so Sidian could carry it to the trunk at the foot of the bed, already giving the rather large zippers more vicious pulls, the rasping of metal on metal echoing off of the walls.
“I don’t know how he knows where we are, but he is an ally. He’s the reason I became a Viper.”
Finally, the bag gaped open. “You have an awful lot of trust in a guy you haven’t known that long.”
“He is a better person than most. I believe at least that much.” Roman kicked his boots off at the door and shrugged out of his own jacket, tossing it across the small console table pushed up against the nearest wall. Enough time had been wasted. He would call Jagger, and then—
Sidian’s scent intensified very suddenly, honey-sweet lilies almost syrupy with desire. “Holy fucking shit. I think I love this guy.”
Roman glanced toward his mate just in time to see him holding up a leather and steel contraption that Roman had only seen once in his life: when it was used as a threat against him during his early days at the Pit.
Getting used to living with six other alphas was a lot to ask of someone who’d just killed three people without thinking twice about it, and having Sidian taken from him did not make him feel any better.
So the boss, infinitely impatient, gave him one single option.
Get himself under control, or wear the muzzle until everyone was content he could be trusted.
Sidian turned to him, eyes wide. “What’s this for?”
Control yourself. How funny. “I was told I would have to wear one if I lost control. I never gave the boss any more trouble after that day.”
A small pink tongue darted out to wet soft lips as Sidian considered the muzzle, then Roman, then the muzzle again. Roman felt a slight buzz of anticipation as those violet eyes absolutely lit up. “I was gonna take a shower, but I think I’d rather have you get me dirty instead.”
Roman crossed the room to Sidian’s side to empty out the rest of the bag.
A frankly cartoonish wad of unnecessary cash, a couple of cans of de-scenting cologne that Sidian would hate, a couple of fake IDs—message loud and clear—a pair of handguns, one sized for Roman’s hands and one on the smaller side, likely for Sidian, with a respectable amount of bullets for each, a thick leather collar, a First Aid kit, and a black fabric roll bearing a set of four small knives.
What exactly was the boss expecting them to do with all of this?
Sidian snatched the collar out of Roman’s hands as soon as he saw it, bending the supple leather between his fingers. “Your boss has a good eye for this,” he said, eyeing Roman’s neck.
The collar and the muzzle painted a very specific image of what the boss meant when he said control yourself, though Roman wondered if he knew who was in control after all. “What are you thinking about?”
“I think you already know. You’re not a dumb dog by any means.” Sidian unbuckled the collar, running his fingers along the smooth interior. “Get down on your knees. I want to see how it looks before I decide if I’d like to replace it with something else.”
Sidian wasn’t asking. The weight of his words dragged Roman down to the floor, the pressure of pleasing his omega just as intense as it was in the forest. It had taken everything in him to get out the single word needed for Sidian to remove the mask; something had always been odd between them, but Roman didn’t think about it too much, nor did he care.
The delight that danced through Sidian’s eyes as he combed a hand through Roman’s hair, nails dragging over his scalp, was more than enough for Roman.
If Sidian wanted him on his knees, then he would stay where he was like a good dog.
“You look good like that,” Sidian said, voice low as he looped the collar around Roman’s neck. “Let’s see what we’re working with here.”
The leather was cool against Roman’s skin as it settled around his throat, Sidian adjusting where it laid before buckling it closed.
Warm fingers brushed the skin just below where the collar rested before he took a step back to examine it, giving Roman an eyeful of his bare thighs.
The urge to lean in just to feel them against his face was a powerful one, but he resisted it.
“Okay, yeah, I like it.” Sidian hooked a finger beneath the collar and tugged forward, and Roman’s back bent toward him automatically. “I was never much of a dog person until I met you, you know, but you’ve always been such a good boy.”
Dog. The word was humiliating. It should have been enough to put Roman off, but it hadn’t changed his mind back then, and it didn’t do so now.
It was degrading, but his cock twitched and swelled under Sidian’s words just the same, something in his mind clicking into place.
There was a rightness to kneeling at Sidian’s feet.
Perhaps it was that Roman could pay him proper worship from there.
Goddess, help him. He would be crushed if he ever lost his omega again.
Sidian left him kneeling to turn back to the contents of the bag, picking up the roll of knives. “What exactly did you tell this uber-special boss about me?”
What is your little darling like, Kane?
“Everything I knew at the time.” Which was precious little.
They’d only seen each other a handful of times following their fateful first meeting, a product of Roman not wanting to take the bus home.
It was an accident of the best kind. “You liked to start fights. You’d use anything sharp you could get your hands on.
If you could, you liked to make people bleed for you. ”
Sidian chuckled, sliding one of the knives from the elastic band securing it in place as he turned it over between his fingers. “The breeding center had the same issue with me. I wasn’t allowed to be left alone with any utensils or cups or anything I might be able to break.”
“You grabbed a scalpel on your way out the front door.” Smart thinking on Sidian’s part; Roman wasn’t even paying enough attention to what Sidian was doing beyond running to know where he snagged it from. A lone cart, perhaps.
Sidian hummed softly, fingers brushing over the scab on Roman’s cheek. “You cut yourself making sure I didn’t fall.”
“It didn’t hurt. Doesn’t bother me.” He’d cared far more about catching Sidian than hurting himself.
Sidian’s hand slid down to cup his jaw, tilting it upward so that the cool, thin blade of the knife met Roman’s cheekbone. “What would you do if I used this on you?”
“Let you.” It wasn’t even a question. Saying no didn’t occur to him. If Sidian wanted to slice him open, then he could.
The thought of being at Sidian’s mercy shouldn’t be as exciting as it felt.
Anticipation swelled in Roman’s gut at the thought, and an unwelcome memory returned.
How many times, as a stupid teenage boy who was more hormone than he was human, did he wonder what it must have felt like to be under Sidian?
To be at the receiving end of whatever weapon Sidian had gotten his hands on this time?
Viper training required them to refine their natural alpha pain tolerance into something borderline superhuman. Between that and his own fucked-up head, masochism really should have been on Roman’s radar before now.
Sidian trailed the very tip of the blade down Roman’s skin, though he didn’t add enough pressure to cut him. “You always did look good covered in blood. Brace yourself, Roe. You’re gonna need it.”