“And the roads are blocked already? Are we or are we not trapped here until the storm passes?” she asks, accepting Tyson’s tug on her foot indicating she’s to eat more.
“You got somewhere else you want to be?” King snaps. His eyes boring into her. She smirks at King being stroppy before Tyson flicks his chin up at her, riding her hard to keep eating.
Tristan doesn’t answer King’s question, and she picks at the food on her plate. I reach over and take an extra helping of the things she clearly likes from my plate—the fries and potato bake. God knows where she puts it, but before two blinks she’s inhaled what I put there. I go to give her more, but she shakes her head.“You’re amazing, Maverick. Thanks. But that is enough. Isn’t it, Tyson?”
No one misses the smirk of satisfaction as she rests her plate on the table again. But I still add more fries along with a dollop of ketchup. She looks at me like I gave her the world before she picks one up to avoid looking at anyone. “We need to figure out what’s going to happen. Tomorrow, I mean, not tonight,” Tristan says quickly before stuffing all of them in her mouth like a chipmunk.
I knew she wasn’t a right proper Omega, not that I’ve met very many, but she’s so damn confident in just being herself it’s refreshing and energising to be around. Because no shit, Steel and I, Tyson to a lesser degree, have been living in a fucking hellhole, barely hanging on, and constantly fighting to survive for a long time. I stop and take a minute to thank the fates for making our paths keep crossing but then her comment has me curious.
“What’s happening tonight?” I ask her.
“King’s putting out.”
Steel chokes on his beer. And she bursts out laughing. It’s sexy as fuck and infectious, even making Steel smile. Sort of. Tristan throws her napkin his way.
“He is.” She stands up, her bare ass cheeks popping out the bottom of the hoodie she’s wearing as she leans over and whispers into Tyson’s ear before twisting around to look at Steel and me on the other side of the table. “Oops.”
King’s too quiet and I expect a glare from him after staring at her ass but instead he’s sitting further back in his chair, manspreading like he’s King of the Universe, his whole being narrowed toward her. Feeling me watching him, he turns and offers an unapologetic shrug for being so head over heels for her. Seriously, the way he looks at her is unnerving.
“Final thing before King blows my mind.” She wiggles her eyebrows before looking at all of us. “I’ve said it a few times and since we’re all trapped in here”—she pauses again, biting her lip suggestively confirming she has absolutely no issue with us being holed up with her and her fast-approaching heat—“the thing about Omegas in heat and Alphas that scent like ambrosia and look like you lot do…”
“How does it work with King?” Tyson asks, his hand skating up under her clothes as he holds her close.
Her eyes jump to his, and much like the look on his face the same one is on hers.
“How long have you two been together?” Steel asks. And it’s the first time he asked a question all night.
King holds his stare. “A long time.”
He shakes his head at King’s response, and I know Steel, he’d be hung up on the fact King hasn’t claimed her, but I understand without knowing anything more about their relationship because I’m living something similar.
But Tristan senses the real question Steel didn’t ask, “A scar on my throat, Steel, would have been dangerous.”
“Why?” I ask, leaning closer.
She and King share another look, one that gets my Alpha riled up in an instant. Tension similar to what I get before a fight burns through my blood as every cell in my body goes into full protective mode. I have to push back in my seat to ease the instant and intense build up in my body. She turns and starts walking my way without any concern of my Alpha rage, instinctively knowing it’s not directed at her.
“Maverick,” she soothes. In one word she starts to take control of my anger, twisting it around into something not like rage but more like comfort. Her hands drop to the top of my chair, and she pushes to make room for herself and then she glides on my lap, her hands cupping my face while her presencewraps around me in comfort. “I’m okay. I’ve always been okay. Look at me.”
Adrenaline clouds my thoughts making her words take longer to register, and of course she senses that and wiggles her body against mine, reminding me on a more basic level that she is in my arms, and she is like she said, okay.
“Maverick, I’m okay,” she repeats, while her touch keeps anchoring me until I can formulate a response more than a roar.
“I didn’t know,” I manage eventually. My jaw aches at how hard I clench it.
“That’s why Big Tom is always with me.”
“And I let you walk alone after the fight.”
King takes control, responding on an Alpha level to my freak out by being more clinical and direct as a way of handling my Alpha going sideways. Unsurprisingly, I have no issue with him. My Alpha doesn’t interpret anything he does as a challenge even though we are Alpha vs Alpha about the same unbonded Omega. Without stopping, he lists threat after threat Tristan has received while she keeps infusing her warmth and sunshine my way, further sating the beast that rose up defensively only moments ago.
Once King is done, he finishes talking, giving me the chance to sort through the facts and emotions while she keeps staring directly into my soul.
“Please tell me no one has ever hurt you.” My words are directed at her, but he answers. And clearly there’s more coming because Tristan picks up my hands and wraps them around her as a way to anchor me.
“Tristan was attacked right after we met. Same night our Southern Chapter was hit by Death Riders.”
I close my eyes and slump back against my seat in horror.
