30. Tristan
30
TRISTAN
Pissed off, doesn’t quite cover how I feel with Tarquin right about now. Yes, I had hired my own investigator, who is meticulously digging through her past, but Tarquin cut right to the chase and hit her bank account.
“I don’t think we should be putting Syn on the spot like this. It’s none of our business,” I state.
“None of our business?” Tarquin’s voice is quiet but deadly. “When I’m paying her three million pounds, it becomes my business.”
I watch Syn’s face carefully. She’s pale, her blue eyes wide with something that looks like genuine fear.
“Someone’s extorting you,” I say softly. It’s not a question.
She looks at me, her expression guarded but desperate. “I can handle it. I just need the money.”
“Clearly you can’t handle it,” Declan interjects, his tone surprisingly gentle. “Two years of payments? That’s not handling it, Synthia. That’s being controlled.”
Tarquin leans forward, his gaze fixed on her, but he has lost his iciness and is being something akin to kind. “Tell us who it is.”
Syn shakes her head, her dark hair falling around her face. “I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?” I press.
“Both,” she whispers.
I reach across the table and take her hand. This time, she doesn’t pull away. Her skin is cool to the touch, and I can feel the slight tremor running through her.
“We can help you,” I say. “Whatever this person has on you?—”
“It’s not about what they have on me,” she interrupts, her voice cracking. “It’s about what they have of mine.”
The table falls silent.
Something changes in the air between us. Her admission hangs heavy, loaded with significance none of us had considered. I feel her pulse quicken beneath my fingers, which still rests against her wrist.
“What do they have of yours?” I ask gently.
Syn’s eyes dart between us, calculating, measuring, weighing options I can’t begin to understand. She pulls her hand from mine and reaches for her wine glass, draining it in one long swallow.
“I can’t tell you,” she says finally. “It’s not... it’s not something I can risk.”
“Is it evidence of something?” Declan asks, his imagination clearly running wild. “Compromising photos? Documents?”
Syn laughs, a hollow sound that makes my chest ache. “I wish it were that simple.”
“Then what?” I ask, unable to stop myself. “What could possibly be worth three million pounds?”
She looks at me, her blue eyes swimming with unshed tears. “Everything,” she whispers. “Everything that matters.” She runs from the room, choking back a sob that wrenches my insides nearly apart.
“Well, fuck,” Declan drawls, sitting back again. “You sure handled that well, Sir Tarq.”
He growls and opens his mouth to bite back, but I slam my hand on the table, making the cutlery jump wildly.
“No! We are not doing this. It’s serious. Fucking serious. We have inadvertently walked into a minefield that is also filled with dog shit. We don’t know which way to step but we will not make snide comments to each other about this. Tarquin. If you’ve found out this much, where is the rest? Who does this account belong to?”
Tarquin takes my words on board and calms down. “I don’t know yet. This information literally landed on my desk before dinner. I haven’t even looked at it properly yet.”
“Go to her,” Declan says, slightly abashed by my outburst. “She trusts you more than us.”
I feel a sense of pride in that, but I need to know something first. I stand up, clearing my throat that has suddenly gone thick with nervousness. “I care about her. I want her. Her scent… since the second I smelled it in the air, I knew she was mine. And she is. She is mine in every single way. I’m not letting her go. If she is just a plaything for you two, if you don’t care, then you need to tell me now, because if that is the case, then it means we split as a pack. I’m choosing her over you.”
The silence that follows my declaration is deafening.
Tarquin’s face remains impassive, but I catch the subtle tightening of his jaw—the only indication that my words have affected him. Declan, however, leans forward, his blue eyes burning with an intensity that makes me stand my ground.
“You’d choose her?” Declan asks, his voice dangerously soft. “An omega you’ve known for days over the pack you’ve built with us for years?”
“If I have to,” I reply without hesitation. “I’ve never felt this way before. Her scent, her soul—everything about her calls to me.”
Tarquin places his hands palms down on the table. “You think you’re the only one affected by her?”
“I’m hoping not.”
Tarquin’s laugh is hollow. “I’ve been obsessed since the moment I saw her on that video with Rob. Why do you think I’ve been so cold? Why do you think I’ve kept my distance? Why do you think I want her to stay?”
Declan runs a hand through his black hair, his expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. “She’s deeply affected me as well. The way she helped me, not once but twice without flinching, without disgust, without fear. She is remarkable. Strong. Stronger than she should be.”
“Apparently, she has no choice,” I mutter.
“So what do we do?” Declan asks, his fingers drumming against the table. “She won’t tell us what’s being held over her.”
“We find out,” Tarquin says decisively. “My investigator is good. The best. He’ll uncover whatever’s happening.”
“We don’t have time for that. You saw her face—she needs that money now. Whatever this extortioner has, it’s something precious to her.”
“Or someone,” Tarquin says quietly.
“Yeah. I’m going to her,” I say, already moving toward the door. “She shouldn’t be alone right now.”
“Tris,” Tarquin calls after me. I pause, looking back at him. His expression has softened. “Tell her we will help her, whatever she needs, but I’m not sending her that money.”
My stomach clenches into a knot. “Then what?”
“Then we find the fucker who’s doing this to her,” Declan says, his voice dark with promise. “And we end them.”
With a nod, I leave the dining room and take the stairs two at a time, following the faint trail of her scent. It leads me to her bedroom. I push the door open and spot her on the window seat overlooking the gardens. She’s there, knees pulled to her chest, staring out at the darkening sky.
“Syn,” I say softly, not wanting to startle her.
Her shoulders stiffen, but she doesn’t turn around. “Go away, Tristan.”
I move closer anyway, drawn to her like a magnet. The burgundy dress pools around her, making her look like a Renaissance painting against the twilight backdrop.
“I can’t do that,” I say, stopping a few feet away. “Not when you’re hurting.”
She laughs, the sound brittle and sharp. “I’ve been hurting since the moment I arrived. That didn’t seem to bother any of you before.”
“That’s not fair,” I say, though I know she’s right. We’ve all been selfish, focused on our own desires rather than what she might be going through.
“Isn’t it?” She finally turns to look at me, her blue eyes brimming with tears. “You wanted a plaything. I needed the money. It was a simple transaction until you all decided to make it complicated.”
I take another step closer, my heart pounding. “Is that all this is to you? A transaction?”
She looks away again. “It has to be.”
“Why?” I move to sit on the opposite end of the window seat, careful not to crowd her. “We can help you.”
“This isn’t your problem.”
“If Tarquin gives you that money, it is our problem. One we are paying for, enabling. Don’t you see why we can’t do that?”
She chokes back a sob. “So you’re not going to give it to me.”
“No, we are going to keep digging until we find out who this fucker is and what he has. Unless you make it easy and tell us.”
“Even if I did, I have less than half a story. What good would it do?”
“You won’t know until you tell us.”
She sighs and uncurls from the window seat to stand in front of me. She reaches around to unzip the dress, and she pushes it off her shoulders. Her naked body is revealed as the dress pools at her feet. “The best thing you can do for me now is to help me forget. Even for a little while.”
“Syn, this isn’t the answer.”
Her gaze challenges me, and I cave. I can’t help it. All the pretences drop away, and I growl, closing the distance between us as I gather her into my arms. The kiss is savage, desperate—a clash of lips and tongues as we both seek something from each other that goes beyond physical release. Her skin burns beneath my fingers, the scent of her arousal mixing with the salt of her tears.
“This won’t solve anything,” I murmur against her lips, even as my hands trace the curves of her body.
“I don’t need solutions tonight,” she whispers back, her fingers working at my shirt buttons. “I need oblivion.”
I should stop this. I know I should. She’s vulnerable, using sex as an escape from whatever nightmare she’s trapped in. But the alpha in me responds to her need, to the primal call of her scent that’s been driving me mad since the moment I first caught it.
I lift her easily, carrying her to the bed. Her naked body against my clothed one creates a delicious friction, and I growl low in my throat as she wraps her legs around my waist.
“Tell me what you need,” I say, laying her down.
Her blue eyes meet mine, swimming with emotions I can’t fully decipher. “You,” she says simply. “Just you.”
Those two words undo me. I strip quickly, never taking my eyes off her. She watches me with a hunger that makes my cock bounce, her gaze tracing every inch of my body as it’s revealed.
When I join her on the bed, she reaches for me with a desperation that makes my heart ache. Her hands pull me down, her body arching to meet mine as if she can’t bear even an inch of space between us. The scent of her floods my senses, drowning out everything else.
“Make me forget,” she whispers against my mouth. “Please, Tristan.”
I kiss her deeply, trying to pour everything I feel into it. The possession, the need, the tenderness that’s growing despite my best efforts to keep this simple. Her body trembles beneath mine, responding to every touch with a sensitivity that leaves me breathless.
“You’re mine,” I growl, trailing kisses down her neck, across her collarbone. “Say it.”
Her breath hitches. “Tristan...”
“Say it, Syn.” I cup her breast, my thumb circling her nipple until it hardens beneath my touch. “I need to hear it.”
“I’m yours,” she whispers, but I hear the lie. Not because she doesn’t want to be, but because she doesn’t believe she can be. It makes me more determined to prove her wrong.
I work my way down her body, worshipping every inch of her with my mouth and hands. The cut on her side makes me pause, anger flaring at the sight of the mark Declan left on her. I kiss it gently, a silent apology before I spread her legs wide and bury my face against her pussy. I whimper like a lost alpha as her slick covers my tongue. I thrust it deep inside her, and she cries out.
I devour her without restraint, my tongue circling her clit before plunging back inside her with an unrestrained groan.
“Please,” she gasps. “Tristan, I need you inside me.”
As much as I want to keep devouring her, this isn’t about me. It’s about her. Only her. The masks fall away from each of us as we stare into each other’s eyes.
My cock throbs painfully, the head slick with pre-cum as I rub it against her clit. I want to savour this moment, savour the way she looks beneath me, hair spread across the pillow, eyes half-lidded with desire, lips swollen from my kisses.
“Tell me again,” I demand, pressing just the tip inside her. “Who do you belong to?”
“You,” she whispers. “I’m yours.”
I surge forward, burying myself to the hilt in one smooth thrust. We both cry out at the sensation of her tight heat enveloping me completely. For a moment, I don’t move, revelling the connection between us, the way her pussy grips my cock so tightly.
“Mine,” I growl, thrusting deeply. “My omega.”
She moans and wraps her legs around me, drawing me even closer to her.
Her body arches beneath me, a perfect curve of need and surrender. I can feel her heart racing against mine, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps as I build a rhythm that has us both climbing toward release.
“Look at me,” I command softly when her eyes flutter closed. “I want to see you when you come.”
Those blue eyes open, swimming with tears and desire. There’s something heartbreakingly vulnerable in her gaze that makes my chest ache even as my hips drive forward relentlessly.
“Tristan,” she whispers.
I shift my angle, hitting deeper, and her mouth falls open on a silent cry. “That’s it,” I murmur, watching her face contort with pleasure. “Let go, Syn. I’ve got you.”
Her pussy clenches around me, the first tremors of her orgasm rippling through her. I maintain the pace, pushing her higher, wanting to give her the oblivion she craves, if only for these few moments.
“I can’t—” she gasps, her body tensing beneath mine.
“Come for me. Show me how good I make you feel.”
She shatters with a broken cry as waves of pleasure crash over her. Her body convulses around me, her pussy clenching my cock in rhythmic pulses as she comes undone. I watch her face, mesmerised by the way pleasure transforms her features with the slight furrow between her brows, the parting of her lips, the flush spreading across her cheeks.
“That’s it,” I murmur, slowing my thrusts to help her ride out the waves. “So beautiful.”
When she comes down, I increase my pace again. The sight of her underneath me, sated and vulnerable, pushes me closer to the edge. My knot begins to swell, catching at her entrance with each thrust.
“Syn,” I growl, my control slipping. “I need?—”
“Yes,” she whispers, her eyes locking with mine. “Knot me, Tristan.”
With a final thrust, I push my knot inside her, locking us together as my orgasm tears through me. I roar her name, my body shuddering as I empty myself deep inside her. The pleasure is so intense it borders on pain, wave after wave thundering through me until I’m left trembling above her.
“More,” she pants. “More.”
Groaning at her eagerness, I rut her gently, pushing my knot a little bit further inside her, stretching her a little bit more until she pants with desire and another rush of slick drenches my cock and knot. My knot swells even more, and I growl low. She looks up at me as she feels the full inflation of me stretching her. Her purr starts low in her throat. I capture her lips with mine, swallowing her purrs as my knot pulsates inside her. Our bodies are locked together, a perfect union of alpha and omega. I roll us carefully, keeping our connection intact, until she’s sprawled across my chest, her dark hair cascading around us like a curtain.
For several minutes, we simply breathe together, our hearts gradually slowing to a synchronised rhythm. I stroke her back, tracing the delicate curve of her spine while she nestles against me, her cheek pressed to my chest. In this moment, with the barriers between us temporarily dissolved, I can almost believe she’s truly mine.
“You’re thinking too loudly,” she murmurs against my skin.
I press a kiss to the top of her head. “How can you tell?”
“Your heartbeat changed.” She traces idle patterns on my chest.
“What happens now?” I ask softly, afraid to break the spell between us but needing to know.
She stiffens slightly. “Nothing changes, Tristan.”
“Everything’s already changed.” I tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze. “You know that.”
Her blue eyes cloud with something that looks like regret. “I can’t give you what you want.”
“You can. I’ve already told Tarq and Dec that I would choose you over them.”
“No,” she cries. “Don’t break your pack for me. I’m not worth it.”
“But you are. To me. You are worth everything.”
“Stop,” she pleads. “Stop telling me what you think I want to hear.”
“I’m not.”
“You are!”
“For once in my fucking life, I can honestly say that I’m being completely truthful. Am I a manipulator? Yes. I can be whatever you fucking want me to be. I can make any deal, anywhere, anytime. But with you? Fuck, Syn. You make it all seem so pointless. You make life seem so fucking pointless without you.”
“Stop,” she whispers.
“I won’t stop. I won’t ever stop telling you that I need you. That you are my scent-matched mate. I don’t give a fuck how soon it is. If the haters want to hate, let them. I really don’t give a shit about their worthless opinions. You are mine.”
Her tears come in earnest now, spilling down her cheeks as she shakes her head. “You don’t understand. I can’t be yours.”
“Why not?” I demand, my voice breaking. “Tell me what’s holding you back.”
She looks away, her body still joined with mine by my knot, but her spirit retreating behind walls I can’t breach. “It’s not that simple.”
“Then make it simple,” I plead, cupping her face. “Whatever it is, whoever is extorting you—we can handle it together.”
She laughs bitterly. “You have no idea what you’re offering to take on.”
“Then tell me,” I whisper against her lips. “Trust me, Syn.”
For a moment, I think she might. There’s a flicker in her eyes, a wavering of resolve that makes my heart leap. But then she shakes her head.
“I belong to someone else,” she says quietly.
I freeze, my heart exploding with pain as I hear those words. “I see,” I murmur after a moment. What else can I say? Okay, I can say plenty, and apparently, I’m going to. “He knows you do this? Fuck other alphas to make money to pay some fucker who is extorting you? Some fucking alpha you’ve got there, Syn.”
Syn flinches at my harsh words, her eyes flashing with something. Anger, pain, or perhaps both.
“You don’t understand,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I don’t belong to an alpha. Not in the way you think.”
Relief floods through me, followed immediately by confusion. “Then what did you mean?”
She closes her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks. When she opens them again, there’s a raw vulnerability there that steals my breath.
“My daughter,” she says, so softly I almost miss it. “I have a daughter. She’s three years old, and he has her.”
The world stops spinning for a moment. I stare at her, trying to process what she’s just revealed. A daughter. She has a child.
“Who?” I manage, my voice a ragged growl. “Who has your daughter?”
Syn trembles against me, our bodies still intimately connected as my knot keeps us locked together. “Her father. My ex. He took her from me and has been extorting me for two years, with the promise I would get her back one day.”
“That’s why you need the money,” I whisper, the pieces finally clicking into place as I cup her face, my heart breaking for her. “You’re trying to buy your daughter back.”
She nods, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “So you see, unless I have the three million he requested to get her back and for him to disappear, I will be paying and paying and paying in a never-ending cycle just in case, one day, it’s enough.” She chokes out a sob. “It’s never enough.”
The door opens quietly, but I don’t think Syn notices as she cries into my chest.
“He will never stop,” Tarquin says quietly. “Extortioners never truly go away.”
Her cries turn hysterical, and I throw him a furious glare as my knot deflates, but he’s right. Syn leaps off me and dives into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. “You were listening?”
He inhales deeply and crosses over to the ornate clock on the bedside cabinet. He picks it up. “Watching. After the inducers…”
“So you heard everything.”
“You really feel she is your scent-match?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation.
“I didn’t want to admit it, but I think she is mine as well,” he says quietly. “I don’t really know how I know.”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters now is getting this fucking monster to give her back her daughter and make him pay.”
“But is she still mated to him?” he asks. “Have you seen a bite scar?”
I shake my head, but that means nothing. She could’ve covered it up. “It doesn’t matter,” I grit out. “He lost any right to be hers when he stole her daughter.”
“It matters because it will affect her when I choke the air out of his lungs, watch the light fade from his eyes, see him froth at the mouth, taking my face to the grave with him as the last thing he will ever see.”
I sit up, smiling. “After I’ve beaten him up so badly, he is bordering on unconsciousness.”
“And not before I’ve made him bleed. A lot.” Declan says from the doorway.