Chapter 5 Dax
The minute I was off camera, my head snapped to the side. That scent was like a nagging ache, something that you just couldn’t get rid of. It smelled like pennies; I knew that scent. I was already searching for someone bleeding, that scent was so overwhelming. The knot at the base of my cock started to form. I froze in place when I felt it, denial at the front of my mind. No scent had ever done that to me before. There was no way that an omega was attached to that scent. It was intriguing in the worst way. Like an itch I just couldn’t scratch. This was so different from the way I normally reacted to scents that it took me a minute to recalibrate. Not that it would have shown. I was so good at living two lives that I could plan a hunt and be on camera at the same time. But that scent was a distraction.
My head spun, searching for the source. I spotted the beta first. He was standing off to the side, watching one of the reporters. I tracked his gaze and had to stop myself from growling at the sight.
Calliope fucking Allister. There was no way that delightful scent came from her. It couldn’t be no omega could smell like that. Like fresh blood that had soaked through your clothes until it rested on your skin. No, it had to be the beta. Setting my equipment down, I slid past my producer, ignoring him as he called after me. The closer I came to the beta, the more sure I became. Tall and lanky, someone that a normal person might describe as the classic stoner. His azure eyes were warm until he saw me stalking toward him. The play across his face told me everything that was going on in his head. All the ways that he could disable me, hurt me, even kill me. He might try for that last one, but I had no doubt who would win. I had to speak to him. I went over to where he was watching the omega.
“You her alpha?” I tilted my head indicating Calliope.
He didn’t say anything for long moments as we stood there and studied each other. I got it; I was an unknown alpha, a big one at that, and showing interest in the omega. That would have been enough to make him suspicious of me. There wasn’t anything I could do to put him at ease. I was a threat, plain and simple. I doubted he knew just how much of one I actually was.
I felt my face fall as I stared at him. Knew that my eyes had slipped, the empathy bleeding away to leave the predator staring back at him. He surprised me by doing the same, his eyes going as dead as I knew mine were. Calliope joined us, and he pulled her to his side. I knew instantly that I had miscalculated. How badly was yet to be seen. But if the way he was protecting Calliope was any indication, it was bad. She looked up at me with wide eyes from where she was nestled beneath his arm. The gaze she leveled at me sent chills down my spine and intrigued me at the same time. I was sure at that moment that this omega was going to be the greatest threat I had ever faced. One that I would conquer.
The image of her on her knees in front of me passed through my mind so vividly I had to fight not to release a groan. The breeze shifted and I caught their mixed scents as the wind rushed past me. It was distinctive and something most people wouldn’t like.
The breeze shifted again, blowing back the way it came, and I waited until my scent hit them. That was always the true test. In theory, people loved the idea that I smelled like a flower. Until they found out that flower was the Titan Arum. I essentially walked around smelling like a rotting corpse. Not that I complained, I generally hated people. It especially came in handy when I killed. Hard to distinguish between true death and my scent. I studied them waiting to see them react to it.
It hit Calliope first, her eyes going wide when she recognized my scent. “You smell good.”
“Right back at you.”
The beta’s head moved between us, I couldn’t tell if he was near panic or in shock until he spoke. “He smells like death.” It was a whisper.
“I know.” That was as close to a purr as I had ever heard an omega release.
“Of course, you like it.” He looked down at her like she was everything he needed.
My own purr started in response to her. That had never happened before. The only time I purred was when I was faking it. I wasn’t sure what was going on right now, but I couldn’t say this was pretend. It was almost normal. Something I most certainly was not.
The beta’s phone rang, and he excused himself, taking Calliope with him. My own attention was pulled back to my cameraman when he called out to me. I went back over to the station’s van and helped them pack up. They needed to go through the footage, do edits before broadcast. The hour drive gave me the time I needed to consider things.
It had become obvious that I wasn’t the only serial killer loose in Raleigh. Eight bodies of alphas had turned up in the last two years. Far more single murders than could be attributed to random acts of violence.
The crime scene pictures I had managed to get ahold of were gruesome. Blood soaked into the walls and carpets of the room. It spread along the walls in arcs. It didn’t take much to imagine how it happened. The killer got each alpha on the ground and slashed at them. From what my source at the coroner’s office had said, the weapon was unique. Almost as if the unsub had used claws. But no human could make those marks.
Or could they?
The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. A custom set of gloves with a small blade at the tip of each finger. Yes, that made the most sense. This person obviously had a thing for blood. Why else would they want to paint the room red when a slash across the throat would do? Why would they drain the body? What were they doing with it? Maybe it was a forensic countermeasure to make the police believe that was part of the signature, only to discard it later. I did as much with the pieces of comforter I took in Asheville. They ended up burning in my fireplace at home. If this person was doing something similar, what trophy did they take?
There was also the matter of the suspect profile the FBI had released. They said he was likely in his late twenties or early thirties. Under employed—which was just a fancy way of saying the person worked as little as possible to get by—and a beta. They were convinced only a beta could be capable of such a thing. Alphas wouldn’t kill like that. I was proof of that theory. Even when I killed as The Butcher there wasn’t the worship of blood like The Alpha Ripper. That was a different level of psychosis that I couldn’t wait to tangle with.
I was becoming increasingly convinced that The Alpha Ripper was an omega. What other designation would be able to render an alpha useless so easily? The kills came in roughly three-month intervals. More or less equal to an average omega’s heat cycle. With the way omegas perfumed around their heat, an unmated alpha would be sorely affected. Incapacitated, unable to think of anything but taking care of the omega. Yet another reason to despise omegas. I liked to be in control of my faculties. I had killed my first omega during her heat. My first pack really. When I killed the omega, her mates tried to kill me.
It had to be an omega. One omega in particular kept coming to mind. The little reporter that somehow was always at the same scenes as me. Reporting on the same cases. Either she was unfortunate enough to have a scent that attracted killers—and I was sure that beta had killed a time or two—or she was one herself. I needed to do more research before I could decide anything. I did know one thing; I would be seeing Calliope again. And when I did, she would be on her knees for me.