“Decades? How fucking old do you think I am?” My voice was pitched low. Even though I wasn’t looking at him, I could feel Mac freeze. He knew what the quiet thunder inmy voice meant.
“Oh, baby,” the redhead continued, digging her grave deeper, “At least thirty. Thirty-five maybe? Guess we shouldn’t say you’ve been missing out for decades though. Unless you were an earlllyyyyy bloomer.” She laughed, and her bitch friend did too. Their witch cackling flooded the suite.
I balled my hands into fists and tried to remember what the therapist told us.
Inhale deeply. Hold. Count to ten. Slowly exhale. Ten again.
Candles.
Were there fucking candles? Or was it a goddamn box?
Shit. This wasn’t working.
“I’m twenty… fucking… seven.” I bit out the words, wishing they were physical projectiles, wishing they could wound.
“Almost twenty-eight.” Tray, always the jokester, appeared at my side. I hadn’t realized he was coming my way. Building fury had blurred out the room. “It’s all good, Dix. Let’s just get them their own room like you said.”
“We don’t want to go,” the black-haired Omega pouted.
“Well, you really don’t have an option,” Tray spoke firmly, still grinning. This was his professional smile though, the one that made his dimples barely sprout. “This is our suite. And,” he cocked a thumb back at the gaggle of college groupies, “we’ve got plenty of Beta babes to go around.”
“This is bullshit,” the redhead snapped, sliding off the bed and straightening her panties after standing up. “Come on, Sheila. Who wants to fuck this old, washed-up rock star anyway? Especially if he’s been dipping his wick in Beta trash.”
“Washed up rock star?” The quiet storm grew to a violent tempest.
“Dixon, it’s all good man. They’re just bitches you’ll never see again. Take a deep breath.”
“Get out of my way, Tray,” I said… at least I think it’s what I said as everything went fifty shades of red.
The room wasn’t blurring in more.
It was completely out of focus.
All I could see were blood hungry shadows.
One thing I hated with a passion were bigots. Betas didn’t choose to be born Betas. Just like a goddamn Alpha didn’t choose to be born an Alpha. Same with fucking Omegas. I’d learned to be better after a lot of heartache. I’d also learned to be better thanks to Tray, who taught me not to be ashamed of things I liked that might not fit the Alpha mold. Maybe I could have controlled myself if the redhead hadn’t slighted Betas. Or maybe I just used that as an excuse to stop fighting the madness festering inside.
The dark-haired Omega was still on the bed. I stomped forward, easily brushing off Tray who attempted halfheartedly to hold me back. Mac said something, but my head was buzzing too loudly to hear him. The microdose, liquor, and anger coursing through my veins was controlling my movements and vision now. All I saw was the mattress. Those stupid Omegas. And I wanted to flip out.
Flip.
Flipping would work.
I leaned down and shoved my hands under the mattress. The standing redhead rushed out of the way. Her friend wasn’t fast enough. I heaved upward, satisfaction blooming in my chest as the Omegas squealed in fear and disbelief. The redhead rushed to the other side of the bed and tried to help the other scramble off the bed. I kept lifting, wanting to dump them both to the floor.
Only, everything went sideways.
My brain.
The room.
The mattress.
Somehow, I was careening headfirst into the base slats beneath the heavy fucking king size.
I slammed into foundation and violent cracks shot through the room as wood splintered and snapped. Screams now, not squeals. I was caught in a sharp, jagged prison. But I was all animal. Flooded with unstoppable, primal instinct. I pulled my arms free, ignoring the pain, and I began slamming my fists down to snap the rest of me free. When I stood up,everything was still hazy. But I could see the other bed almost clearly. The Omegas were out of sight. But that bed had to pay for what this fucking bed did.
Stepping over the side rail, I stomped with deliberate purpose towards the second bed. I grabbed the footboard, and I ripped it off the brackets keeping it in place. Holding it over my head, I turned like a goddamn maniac and tossed it towards the glass balcony doors.
