“Maybe we should just join-”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Tris,” Petal says, squinting up at him while he looks down at her with the softest expression I’ve ever seen on his face.
“I resent the implication that I’m being ridiculous.”
Petal snorts. “It wasn’t an implication. Youareridiculous. Obviously, Ren needs some private time with her pack.”
He gasps in mock outrage. But she only laughs. “Don’t worry,” Petal says, dragging Tristan away. “We’ll find them after.”
I watch as they make their way back down the stairs and into the crush of people, worried about their safety for reasons I’m not entirely sure of, but then two of the guards at the bottom of the stairs break off and close around my friends.
I glance at Grieves, standing a step below me, knowing that was his doing. I don’t even know when he managed to arrange it, but it was undoubtedly him.
“Thank you,” I murmur to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“‘Course, bubbles,” he sighs, contentedly. “Anything for you.”
“Are they…?” Court asks, as we watch them wind through the crowd.
“No.” I shake my head immediately, but then I think about the soft look on Tristan’s face. “Well… I don’t think so, at least. But maybe?”
“Well, I’m thrilled we got that settled.”
“Shall we find our seats?” Forsythe asks, with a hand at my waist.
“Yes, let’s do that. I want to get somewhere private.”
“Oh, really, Pix?” Court drawls, as we continue up the stairs. “Why would that be? Do tell. Something naughty I hope.”
I snort a laugh and shake my head. “In your dreams, pretty boy.”
“Oh, Pixie,” he purrs, moving just a bit closer. “You have no idea. The things I dream about doing to you would make your toes curl and your cheeks flush. Mm... Yes, just like that.”
“Stop teasing our omega,” Thayer growls, shouldering Court out of the way. “You’re making her perfume and we’re possessive. No one smells her arousal but us.”
My cheeks heat even more at the casual mention of myarousal.Even though I know I have nothing to be embarrassed about. It's only natural. I’m with my fated pack for pete’s sake, of course I’m going to get all hot and bothered when they so much as look at me the right way. And of course my omega is going to broadcast her willingness to rut when that happens.
I am not the first omega to perfume in public, and I certainly won’t be the last.
But I can’t help but love the way Thayer’s claimed my perfume for himself, for his pack, and no one else.
“That isn’t really helping, professor,” I mutter to him.
And he chuckles low and deep, bordering on filthy. “Oh, I know, killer. Your omega loves being claimed by us, doesn’t she?”
There’s a gasp from somewhere down below, and for a moment, I think it’s a reaction to me, to my perfume. But then there’s an alarmed cry. Thayer’s eyes widen with panic before he shoves me to the floor, as Grieves shouts, “Gun!”
Episode 30: Red Streaks and Revelations
Grieves
The wall behind Florence’s head explodes as the bullet strikes it. If I hadn’t seen the weapon, if Thayer hadn’t reacted fast enough, the little bits of plaster decorating the carpet would have been her blood and bones instead.
Someone just took a shot at my omega. At her goddamnhead.
The knowledge pulses through me as the crowd in the theater screams and cries out, pushing against each other to escape. But there’s no need for that. The gunman is already on the run, using the chaos caused to flee.
My alpha urges me to give chase, but I hesitate, glancing down at Florence on the floor, tucked tightly under Thayer’s body, trembling, tears in her eyes and cheeks pale. Her hands are running over him, like she’s checking for injuries.
