“Thank you,” Alton said, stiff and tense under the first male’s hand. He tried to pick Quinn up again, to take her with him, only to be stopped by that same hand clenching down into a creaking fist.
“He says you, not the girl.”
“I’m not leaving her here.”
“Well, then I guess you do not need to see Andrés,da?”
Quinn could see the thoughts racing through Alton’s mind as if he was speaking them out loud to her. The way his brows pinched together, the small tick at the corners of his mouth reminiscent of a grimace. She saw the moment he came to a decision, jaw clenched, refusing to look down at her.
“All right.”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Quinn hissed, spittle flying from her lips as she clawed at Alton’s coat. Clinging, climbing his body, she snarled when he disentangled their limbs and sat her aside.
“You’ll be fine.”
“Da, you will be fine.” Releasing Alton’s shoulder, the man stepped aside in a move that blocked Quinn from following unless she wanted to try and run through a wall of muscled flesh.
Quinn stared at Alton’s back as he left her standing there alone. She didn’t try to hold back her snarl, or the low growl. Betrayal cut deep, ripping apart the scabs that had given her some small measure of peace. She wasn’t safe with these men. The evidence of which was clear before Alton even cleared the landing. She glared up at him when he glanced back. Small and alone in a closing circle of Alphas, she scoffed at his frown of concern.
“Run along and offer your ass up for the next male like a good little bitch,” Quinn called out, crossing her arms over her middle as she smirked at him. Somehow, she held the smile even when the Alphas chuckled at her game, drawing ever closer. Alton disappeared just when they blocked her view of anything beyond wide shoulders and barrel chests.
Chapter 17
“And what do you know about being a good little bitch?” It was rich and smoky, the voice that drifted over her shoulder in a wash of humid breath. Pale fingers, knuckles scarred almost beyond recognition, traced a sinuous pattern down her arm.
Quinn fixed her gaze on a point in the air, ignoring the males around her, their posturing and closeness. She concentrated instead on keeping her breaths slow and even. Tried not to curl her lip at the stench of violence that clung to each of them like cheap cologne.
“Darryl asked you a question.” Heavy fingers worked through her hair, curling against her scalp to make a fist. Head craned back, Quinn kept her eyes on the ceiling beyond.
“I do not think she wishes to speak to us, do youkroshka?” Met with Quinn’s silence, the Russian continued. “Perhaps we don’t need her mouth to say anything at all, though.”
A subdued murmur of male voices in agreement preceded the total lack of space. The air tainted by so many, her nerves scraped raw and twisted, she knew what was about to happen. Refusing to dissolve into pathetic weeping, to give them the teary pleas they likely wanted, she stood as proud as she could. Worse still would be to lose the tenuous control on her stark terror. Running incited violence.
No Alpha denied the lure of a chase.
She didn’t startle when one of them plucked the lapels of the borrowed jacket wide. Stood quiet as it slid over her shoulders and a warm mouth came to lick the skin behind her ear. Didn’t fight when hands bunched the hem of her shirt and worked it up her body.
Inhaled…
Exhaled…
“Ah, what have we here,” the Russian said, crouched before her as the shirt came free. Even so low, his eyes were level with her chest. Quinn’s skin prickled with awareness, nipples drawing tight in a rush of confusion and instinct. Massive paws slid over her hips, tucked into the waistband of the loose sweats and drew them down.
Expecting to be laid bare, to have her pussy on full display to them, Quinn made the mistake of looking down when he stopped as soon as her stomach was revealed.
Someone pressed against her back, rubbing against her as they weighed her breasts in their palms. Still she watched the man before her, tense, cautious. Stared even harder when he cupped the swell of her belly, spread his hands wide and swallowed the whole thing.
“How long,” he asked on an appreciative rumble, his gaze fixed on her stomach as he smoothed the taut skin.
“Not long enough for her to have milk in these little beauties, Ilya.” It was the man with half his face ruined, and it was his hands on her. Tweaking her nipples, squeezing the tender points to prove his point. His mouth was at her ear, tongue tracing the edge as he whispered, “He likes to suck on them while he fucks the pregnant ones. Such a freak.”
The man with the circular scars, skin the shade of a midnight sky, muscled his way in to press against Quinn’s front. Slow rolls of his hips ground the bulge in his pants against her hip. Making sure he had her eyes, gripping her chin between pinching fingers, he said, “I get her pussy first.”
“The hell you do!”
Quinn couldn’t even see who this new voice belonged to. Aggression swirled and whipped around her. The edge of violence drew nearer, its claws rending the too thick air, so her lungs strained all the harder. More voices joined the fray. They called out what part of her they wanted, and who would lay claim first.
The redheaded kid, younger even than she was, whined as he ground against her side. Pupils wide, the scent of him thick on the back of her throat, he shoved his nose against her neck. “You want to give me your mouth right, baby?”
