Chapter 3
Three
WILLOW
Heavy breaths choked me as I stared up at the imposing alpha towering above me. The same man who captivated me at the gala. This was the alpha I couldn’t stop thinking about. And now he was to be my jailer.
The other man, who crouched beside me, walked into the hall, leaving us alone. Once I brushed off the shame he forced me to face, a different, unfamiliar emotion swirled in my abdomen, my omega perking to life.
His scent filled the room—fresh espresso and whisky.
I craved it, wanted to chase it and drown in it.
It was foreign.
I had never been so enticed by an alpha’s scent. At worst, they tended to be putrid, making me want to gag. At best, they were tolerable, but nothing I sought out. I closed my eyes, squashing the primal need to please the man who had effectively taken me prisoner.
Most alphas didn’t affect me, but this one was dangerous. And not because of the gun tucked in his pants.
Sunlight glinted off his jeweled eyes, making the jade twinkle. A red mark bloomed on his cheek, standing out against his fair, freckled skin. I licked my lips, following the path of colorful ink on his forearms that disappeared under his rolled sleeves.
His muscles strained against the expensive fabric. My omega luxuriated at the idea of stripping it from him and tracing the lines with my tongue.
Despite the throbbing under my eye, I willed away the unhelpful thoughts. I should be shocked by what my father did. Disgusted.
I wasn’t.
It was a step up from his usual games, sure. But William Sterling was nothing short of a selfish bastard who would exploit his own family if it meant he would win an election.
Kaelen Finnegan.
I had no idea who he was, but now he owned me. And he didn’t seem like the type to relinquish his possessions. Still, maybe he could be convinced that I wasn’t worth the burden.
No one else seemed to think so.
“No?” I echoed, a sting lacing through my swollen cheek, making me hiss.
I clutched the bruised spot, wincing at how tender it was. Bile churned in my belly, and I wished this sensation were unusual. Tenderly, I tapped my fingers over the sensitive flesh, groaning.
Dad hadn’t held back.
I would be lucky not to have a black eye.
A shadow swam in my vision.
The mountain of an alpha crouched in front of me. Thick thigh muscles pressed against his pants as a rough hand cradled the uninjured side of my face.
Almost too gently, he stroked my freckles, the touch at odds with the fire spitting in the depths of his eyes.
I stared at his gun, sweat clinging to my nape.
When he didn’t respond, the panicked whir grew worse. My omega preened under the touch from the gruff alpha, but I knew better. He held my life in his hands.
I sensed that the longer the silence stretched on, the less likely it was that I would leave this place alive.
My dad was an ass, but this man was something else entirely.
“Please,” I murmured, hating the pathetic tint to my voice. “I didn’t do anything. Don’t hurt me.”
The air in the room shifted, dense with his scent. It was tinged, not as sweet and smooth as it had been even a few minutes ago. Veins throbbed in his hand as it fell from my face.
I immediately regretted my words, swaying slightly when I chased his touch. I wanted it back.
“I would never hurt you,” he said, nostrils flaring.
“Then let me leave.”
“You can’t leave. You won’t be safe.”
Safe was a relative term.
I went from the frying pan into the freezer, and neither option was going to end well for me. I had read stories about the crime families in Boston, assuming that it was all blown out of proportion.
Hard to believe that now, when I was staring into the eyes of a Dublin devil.
Wood groaned behind me, and the man from earlier reappeared. A washcloth sat in his outstretched palm. He handed it to Kaelen.
Without a word, he moved my fingers away from my face, pressing the cloth to my cheek. The initial sting of the ice on my flushed skin made me jump, but my body sagged, relaxing as it soothed away the pain.
“Do you want me to find the senator?” the other man asked.
Pinpricks skittered across my arms, making the hairs stand on end.
“Don’t kill him,” I begged.
Kaelen’s eyes narrowed, his fingers flexing. Only an idiot would bargain with a demon. Yet, here I was.
“My mom is sick. She needs him. I’ll do anything you want.”
As much as I hated to admit it, my mom was frail, and without my dad, there would be no one left to care for her. I was in no position to help her. My father orchestrated it so we needed him. If he died or left, we would get nothing. I didn’t work; he didn’t let me. I volunteered and that was it.
No one knew what was wrong with her, but she needed constant care and doctors’ visits. Her omega had retreated so far in on itself that her scent had almost completely vanished. Most thought she was a beta.
If Dad was gone, and I was trapped here, who knew how long she would last?
Kaelen scratched his ear. “Leave it, Aidan. Go keep an eye on The Ruby Slipper. With the Sox in the playoffs, the place is going to be a madhouse tonight, and I don’t trust Rossi not to pull something. He’s hotheaded enough to do something stupid.”
“On it,” Aidan said as he left.
Quiet minutes ticked by, neither of us saying anything. Kaelen dropped to a knee, moving the makeshift ice pack aside to assess my face. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see what was in his.
Strong fingers gripped my chin, angling my head. The touch drew a whine from me and I tried to muffle the inappropriate sound.
A quiet groan slipped past his lips. Two hands bracketed my hips, pulling me upright with him as he stood. Like most omegas, I was tiny, but he dwarfed me unlike other alphas I’d been around. All six-plus feet of him.
He placed the now half-melted icy cloth on his desk, fiddling with one of the drawers before handing me two small pills.
“What is it?” I asked, my heart plummeting into my stomach.
I didn’t want to lose my senses.
“Ibuprofen,” he mumbled, scratching a hand through his thick beard. “To help with the swelling and pain.”
“Oh,” I whispered, taking the pills dry.
His mouth fell open as he ran a hand through his auburn hair, careful not to muss the bun tied at the back of his head.
“What kind of heathen does that?”
“What?” I asked.
“Take pills without water.”
I shrugged. I’d always been able to do that. It wasn’t that odd. After the brief exchange, another uneasy silence settled between us. I shuffled, scanning the books that lined the shelves behind his desk, curious about what he read.
Not fantasy, that was for certain.
The tension in his body eased as he leaned into his desk, his eyes roaming over me, assessing for weak points.
I couldn’t stand it anymore.
At least back home, I knew what to expect.
Based on what my dad had said, Kaelen Finnegan wasn’t a mere businessman. And the gun in his pants hinted at something far more ominous.
Something that terrified me.
“What do you mean it’s not safe for me? How am I safer here than back at home?”
Based on the fury flaring in his beautiful eyes, I pissed off what appeared to be the head of the Irish mafia. I instantly regretted my big mouth, wishing I could pluck the words from the air and choke them back down.
His knuckles turned white as his nails dug into the supple wood, scratching the surface.
“Here, you won’t get beaten.”
Blood receded from my fingertips, leaving them cold. My omega curled up like a contented cat in a sunspot at the implications of the alpha’s words. His tongue swept along the points of his teeth as he rocked forward, seeming to lose a battle with himself.
A callused palm slid along my smooth face, the touch threatening to burn me from the inside out. His thumb feathered over my lips, barely brushing them before resting on my cheek and trapping me in his hold.
He spoke again, not giving me a chance to say anything. The delicate Irish lilt to his commanding voice was sweeter than melted chocolate, and dangerously decadent. If I weren’t careful, I would become addicted to him.
“If you went home, what do you think your father would do? Leave you alone? His plan with me didn’t work.
Who’s to say he wouldn’t try to sell you off to the Russians or the Italians?
Trust me, sweetheart, I may be the most terrifying man in Boston, but the Irish revere their women.
I can’t say the same for the Bratva or Casa Nostra. Do you want to take your chances?”
My brain went fuzzy at his declaration.
To that, I didn’t have an answer.
He was right.
Did I really want to risk returning home?
Granted, I don’t think I had that choice anymore, even if he were giving me the illusion of one.
An icy chill replaced the comfort from his palm as he removed it, gesturing toward the door.
“I’ll show you to your room.”
Interesting way to say cage, but I followed him through the eerily quiet halls, the path different from the one I had taken when I first arrived. Plush rugs lined the polished hardwood floors while family photos hung on the walls. It almost looked like a normal home.
Distant voices carried up from the lower floors, and I strained to listen, but couldn’t make anything out.
Soon, we stopped in front of a door, and the reality of my situation sapped the final dredges of my bravery. I clasped my fingers at my waist, sucking in a slow breath.
“What about all my things?”
“What do you need?”
The abrupt response took me aback. I expected him to brush me off, to tell me I should be thankful that he hadn’t lodged a bullet in my back.
“All my clothes,” I started, and then stopped. I never had much. Outside my wardrobe, I had a few well-worn copies of books, my pathetic nesting materials and toys for my heats. “Never mind,” I rushed to add.
A dark crimson blush burned my cheeks as I looked away from his intensity. The weight of his alpha pressed down on me, his intoxicating scent demanding that I let him care for me. To tell him what I needed.
I dared to meet his gaze, and the severity in it made my chest tighten. Two massive hands landed on either side of my face, caging me between him and the door. Slick coated my thighs. Instead of rebuffing his movements, I perfumed, my scent washing over us like a spring rain.
Darkness crept in, eclipsing the jeweled hues of his eyes until nothing of the Irishman remained, his alpha entirely in control.
“Omega,” he breathed, his nose dragging along my clavicle. I mewled, fighting between the instincts that told me to drop to my knees and my brain, which told me to shove him away. “You should go to bed.”
The hazy ridges around my vision blurred, unable to focus. An arm slipped around my lower back, supporting me as he pushed open the door. Once I was stable on my feet, he released me. A hiss whistled through his teeth.
“I will make sure you have everything you need. Now go.”
His silky demand hovered on the edge of a bark, and my feet moved of their own accord. I stepped over the threshold, and the door clicked behind me, locking me in my tomb.
Frozen, I didn’t move as I scanned over the room.
Objectively, it was lovely.
Two massive windows flanked an enormous bed covered in fluffy blankets and pillows. Evening sunlight illuminated the room in a glow that did nothing to help the icy tendrils of fear splintering out from my breasts.
I crawled through the space, running my fingers over the lacquered wood and plush fabric.
On the far side of the room sat an attached bath. A separate shower and tub filled the space as the smooth marble twinkled in the filtered light. I toed off my flats, hating how luxurious the carpet was beneath my feet.
Eventually, I collapsed onto the bed, curling into a ball.
I grabbed a pillow, inhaling the clean smell. The last of my strength cracked, and tears bled into the silken sheets.
It was a pretty prison, but a cell was still a cell, no matter how many throw pillows it had.