“And there’s also the fact that you take off a week, like clockwork, every six months." He slams his wine down on the table, shattering the fragile stemware in the process.
“Of course, I could never get you to just take money, it always had to be an exchange with you, buy art, get an auction stream. Something! Like I want digital fucking art when I can just go buy actual art to hang in my home.” He scoffs, and tears fill my eyes. I thought I was doing good taking care of myself, fuck him.
“Then you stopped. You started missing streams, you weren’t available as much, and I worried a pack had found you, and had turned your pretty omega head. I had to get closer, make it so you needed the money I offered, so the next time you came out, I slashed your tires. You wouldhaveto come into the shop, you would haveto take the money I offered to repair your car...but you didn’t." He stalks towards me.
“Then that fucking alpha, Gabe came back from lunch the next day, he and Xan both…and they smelled like an omega. They smelled likemyfucking omega! Tell me, did they fuck you that day, or did you play this stupid coy act with them as well?" He grabs my shoulders, yanking me out of my chair and slinging me across the room.
I hit the ground and slide into a wall. But he isn’t an alpha, he doesn’t have their inherent strength, so while it hurts, I can still stand up, and the fork I gripped earlier is still in my hand.
He drags me up by my hair, wrenching a scream from me when it pulls against the still sore lump on the back of my head. I don’t have any pockets, so I tuck the fork along the inside of my wrist, the curve against my hand, holding in place with my thumb as he drags me from the dining room and back down the hall the way we came.
I hear a bell ring in the distance and he bellows for someone to get the door, but never slows his stride. I could try to scream, but if the people here won’t help me, I don’t have any guarantee that the person at the door will either. I’m dragged back into the bedroom and he finally releases my hair, only to grip the back of my neck in one hand and tear the shirt down the back.
“Fucking omega whore…trying to lure me in, pretending you want me, and not just any fucking alpha knot that comes along." He’s screaming at me, pushing me towards the bed.
“Which one was it, huh? That mentally challenged moron who owns the garage, or his equally deficient stoner underling? The tall freak of nature or the tattooed lunatic who they all just keep around to make the rest of them look better? Which one!"
He’s shaking me by my neck, and I barely catch myself as I fall against the mattress, trying to make sure I don’t drop the one small weapon I have. He grabs the stretch pants, which are already strained, and tears them down the middle. I curl in on myself, trying to hide my exposed flesh, but he doesn’t stop.
“We have to check for claiming bites; make sure they didn’t mark you. You can’t tell with alphas, they can be sneaky bastards." He tries to roll me over and I kick out at him, but he just grabs my leg in his big hand and pulls it taut, his other hand trails up my thigh, and his breath grows rougher.
“Are you getting wet for me, omega. Are you making all that lovely slick for Seth"
Well, nope, my vagina is officially doing its best impression of the Sahara desert.
Hishand stops groping me and he tries to pry my thighs apart…my skin crawls as he gets closer to my center, and I don’t think I’m going to get a better chance than this. Dropping the fork down the palm of my hand so the tines are sticking out against my thumb I thrust it forward, jabbing at his eye. He never sees it coming.
He doesn’t see it afterwards either as there is now a fork embedded in his eye socket.
Seth falls back, screaming and pawing at his face. I want to take time to cover up, but I don’t know what my options are, so I grab the oversized towel I used after my shower, and tie it around my chest as best I can. He is still screaming on the floor and a thick goop is sliding down the side of his face. Probably a good thing I didn’t eat that chicken, nausea rolls through my core.
I bolt from the room, holding my towel together with one hand, and jiggling my way down the staircase…I never thought I would miss a bra, but here we are. The woman who helped me with my shower earlier has the door open a crack, but I can’t see who’s on the other side, she seems to be trying to keep them from coming in, and right now that's good enough for me.
She is so focused on turning these unwelcome guests away, she doesn’t see me barreling down the stairs and straight for her until it’s too late. She starts to turn and I slam full speed into her, knocking her over and tearing the door out of her hand.
I sprawl in a totally unladylike position, sliding a few feet before I come to a stop at the foot of an entryway table with a big vase on it…oooh fancy!
Dammit, I think I hit my head again. Fuck.
My impact shakes the table enough that the vase wobbles and falls off, and the loud crash makes me cringe.
I really need to pull this towel down…I wonder if I am loopy from a concussion, hormones, or low blood sugar.
Is that last one even a thing…I don’t remember when I ate last.
Someone yanks me up, strong arms wrap around me, and I bring my knee up hard into their groin before I register the sweet scent of cherry tobacco.
Oh, shit.
Gabe lets out a loud “oof” of air, but doesn’t let go. He has his whole body wrapped around me, curled over my sprawled form, holding the towel in place and trying to preserve what little modesty I might have. When an officer comes over to check on us Gabe lets out a loud growl, and I have to lean around him to talk to the woman in blue.
My voice is overly chipper and a little hysterical sounding to my own ears. “We’re fine…but you might want to check upstairs, there’s a guy with a fork in his eye who just ripped off all my clothes, and he might need help.” Gabe’s head snaps up, his hands checking me over for injuries even as his growl gets louder and rougher.
Chapter 38
My omega shakes in my arms, wrapped in nothing but a towel, and I want to go upstairs and stomp Trey–Seth…what the fuck ever–into a sticky paste that the cops can then scrape off my boot and into a jail cell.
My body can’t decide if it wants to growl or purr and all that comes out is a loud garbled mess, but I don’t even care right now, she’s here. Running my hands over her skin, she is so very naked other than a towel. I unbutton my over shirt and try to take it off so that I can wrap her up in it, but she whimpers when my arms start to loosen.
