“McCrea,” he snarls, and the rage in his voice makes my blood run cold.
TWENTY-FIVE
willa
He leans in,and I realize with nauseating clarity what he’s about to do. He’s going to scent me. Going to put his scent on my neck where my pack’s scents are, where?—
His nose brushes against my throat, and I freeze, every muscle locked in terror and revulsion. My Omega is screaming, thrashing, rejecting this Alpha with every fiber of my being.
When he pulls back, his face has gone from red to purple.
“You let him mark you. You let that—that—” He can smell them all, I realize. Can smell the layers of pack scent that Beau and Jake and Charlie left on my skin. “You’recoveredin them.”
“Yes.” The word comes out stronger than I expected. “Yes, I am. Because they are my pack. Not you. Never you.”
His hand tightens on my face until I cry out in pain, his fingers digging into my jaw hard enough that I taste copper.
“You stupid little Omega.” His voice drops to something venomous, something that makes my skin crawl. “You think you have a choice? You think those pretty Alphas are going to keep you safe?” His laugh is sharp and cruel. “I will destroy them. Do you hear me? I will destroy McCrea, and Holt, and Dillon. I’ll make sure none of them ever ride again. I’ll ruin their careers, their reputations, their everything?—”
“No—” I try to twist away, but his grip is iron.
“Oh yes.” His eyes are wild now, unhinged. “And when I’m done with them, when they’re broken and bankrupt and have nothing left, I’m going to take you. Lock you away where no one can find you. You’ll be available to me and my pack only. No more parading around arenas. No more playing at being some kind of career Omega. Just you, in my house, serving your purpose.”
Bile rises in my throat. My Omega is screaming, thrashing against invisible bonds.
“You’re insane,” I whisper.
“I’m owed.” Spittle flies from his lips. “Your father promised. We had a deal. You were supposed to be mine. But first,” he continues, and my gut sinks with horrifying understanding, “I’m going to send a message.”
Before I can scream, before I can fight, Felton leans down and presses his thumb against my pulse point—right where my pack’s scent is strongest. He holds me there, pinned, and then drags his cheek along the side of my face in a mockery of scenting.
The wrongness of it hits me like a physical blow.
My Omega rejects him violently—every cell in my body screamingwrong, wrong, WRONG—but he keeps going, rubbing his sour, stale scent over my skin, contaminating the places my pack touched with reverence. Over my cheek. Along my jaw. Down my throat.
I want to retch. Want to claw my own skin off to get his scent away from me.
But worse than the physical revulsion is the heartbreaking sense of failure. Of loss. I was supposed to be good. I was supposed to stay covered in my pack’s scent, to carry their claim proudly. And now Felton is erasing it, marking over it, ruining it.
I failed them. I failed my pack.
Tears stream down my face as he finally pulls back, satisfaction gleaming in his bloodshot eyes.
“There,” he says, breathing hard. “Now everyone will know. Now McCrea will see that you’re not as claimed as he thinks. That you’re still available. Still up for grabs.”
“Get your fucking hands off her.”
The voice is low. Deadly. And so cold it could freeze fire.
Felton’s head snaps around, and suddenly Beau is there—in his riding gear, his face a mask of controlled fury that makes him look dangerous in a way I’ve never seen. Behind him, Jake appears, and the expression on his face promises violence.
“McCrea.” Felton doesn’t let go of me, but I can feel his grip falter slightly. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“The fuck it doesn’t.” Beau takes a step forward, and several people in the crowd gasp and pull back. “That’s my Omega you’re putting your hands on.”
“Your fake Omega, you mean.” But Felton’s voice wavers. “I know all about your little arrangement. She’s not really yours.”
“She’s ours.” Jake moves to Beau’s other side, and together they’re a wall of Alpha fury. “In every way that matters. Now let. Her. Go.”
