Since the mask was no longer useful, might as well do away with it.
“I gave you so many chances,” Shiloh said. “I just want you to know that. You’ll never understand how hard I truly tried to make this easy for you.”
“You said you didn’t have a gun.” Sarang held out his hand. “Give it to me and get in the corner.”
“This, having to teach you the hard way? This is your own damn fault.”
“Shiloh, this isn’t the time to fool—”
He grabbed onto Sarang’s hand and shoved him back, activating the small device he’d kept hidden in the process. The contraption expanded and opened, turning from a small coin to a cuff that locked around the alpha’s wrist and one of the metal bars that lined the half wall.
When Sarang pulled at it, Shiloh took the opportunity to capture his other arm, repeating the process so that he had the alpha sitting on the concrete, shoulders pressed against stone, arms over his head.
Trapped.
“Watch closely, alpha.” Shiloh grinned, and not one of those demure, soft, bullshit smiles he’d practiced in the mirror and skillfully perfected either. “Learn what kind of omega you belong to.”
Chapter 9:
It hadn’t been that long since the basement incident where he’d let loose with Diogenes, and yet Shiloh felt that familiar thrill zip through him as he stepped around the wall separating him from their pursuers and opened fire.
A bullet whizzed past the side of his face, the heat warming his cheek, whistle rattling his eardrum, but he didn’t cower or flinch. Instead, his grin broadened.
He landed two shots to each shoulder of the man who still had a loaded weapon, both he and the useless gun clattering to the ground. Shiloh was already moving on, blowing out another man’s knee.
The third pursuer roared and tossed a hidden dagger, racing forward even as Shiloh retreated and stepped to the side to evade. He didn’t seem concerned about the blaster, must havealready come to the conclusion that he wasn’t getting out of here alive.
Shiloh respected that.
On a whim, he tossed his weapon aside and shifted on his feet, taking a defensive pose all while maintaining the manic look of glee he knew he was wearing. Dio called it bloodthirsty.
Bishop said it was the real him.
If Shiloh was tossing all his cards, he may as well expose his true nature to Sarang all in one go. Leave no room for arguments or rejection later. Neither of those things were on the table anyway. He wouldn’t be taking no for an answer today.
“Shiloh!” Sarang rattled against the handcuffs, his concern for him endearing.
Yet entirely misplaced.
“What’s your name?” Shiloh rested all of his attention on his attacker, swiping at the man’s forearm when he tried delivering a punch. He scented the air, noted the man was an alpha. “I like your hair. Is it natural?”
The red headed alpha hissed at him and spun, delivering a high kick that landed across Shiloh’s jaw and sent him sprawling.
Shiloh landed hard on his left shoulder, the sting amplified since it’d been dislocated less than ten minutes ago, and he tasted copper on his tongue. With a laugh, he spit out a mixture of blood and saliva, rolling when the redhead tried to stomp on him.
He lifted onto his ass and knocked his shin against the man’s left ankle, taking him down, then quickly straddled him before he could regain his barring. A wave of omega pheromones burst from his pores, his body’s built in weapon more useful than the blaster from earlier had been. His hands found his throat and he squeezed.
The redhead went from struggling to whimpering in pain as he was assaulted by aggressive pheromones, and Shiloh laughed again when his strength gave out and all he could do was kick his heels on the ground and claw at Shiloh’s arms as he tightened his grip.
“You’re kind of pretty,” Shiloh purred, making sure power thrummed with every word. “Are you sure you don’t want to give me your name?”
Dominant pheromones were more potent than regular ones, and depending on the strength of the alpha or omega they were being used against, could force a person into mindless lust or debilitating agony. This redheaded alpha was weak, his skin already prickling and covered in a sheen of sweat, eyes already turning bloodshot.
Tucked into the corner, Sarang was fighting against the pain as well.
Shiloh felt bad, could control his pheromones and target them specifically against the redhead, but he didn’t want to.
Sarang needed to understand.
