Page 3 of A Murderous Omega

The driver met my eyes in the rearview mirror, suspicion warring with pleasure. “Yeah, she fuckin’ does, doesn’t she?”

A purr rattled out of my chest. Not a true purr, as delicious as these two men smelled, but a facsimile that worked well enough to calm raging alpha hormones.

The alpha beside me relaxed even further.

I wiggled and shifted until I could bring my feet up to the seat. “Okay,” I said, opening my eyes wide and sinking down as if I were relaxing.

“Yeah?” The alpha smiled as if he were pleased with me, like he wanted to pat me on the head for being such a good omega, the patronizing asshole.

“Yeah,” I breathed, licking my lips. His attention made my core ache, my pussy desperate for his cock, for his knot, but now was not the time. “I’ll behave,” I promised.

He leaned over to kiss my temple. “Good girl.”

Condescending prick.

“But my ankles hurt a lot. Could you—?” I twisted, showing him the red lines where I’d rubbed my ankles raw, trying to escape the ropes they wrapped around me when I was too dazed with lust to stop them.

He slowly slid his palms down my calves, and I didn’t bother hiding my moan of contentment. It felt so fucking good to have his hands on me, for the alpha to care for his omega.

The moment the cords around my ankles loosened, I kicked out, knocking the alpha back from me. The driver engaged the child lock on the back door, but I wasn’t stupid. I reached between us to unbuckle the seatbelt of the alpha beside me, then looped my arms around his neck, using the bindings on my wrists to choke him.

“Unlock the fucking door,” I growled.

“Easy, sweet girl,” the driver said.

The alpha in my arms hummed with pleasure. I ground my pussy against him even as I cut off his air supply, my body betraying me again with sweet, sweet bliss.

“Fuck yes, little one. Choke me out and make yourself come,” he snarled, relaxing into my grip.

“The fucking door!” I shouted, yanking my wrists hard against the alpha’s neck.

“Calm down, sweetheart,” the driver said.

Fucking alphas. Fucking men.

“If you know who I am, then you know I’m capable of murder,” I said. “Now unlock the fucking door.”

Clunk.

I waited until we were on a straightaway, then lifted my arms off the alpha’s neck and kicked at the same time, shoving myself away, then throwing myself backward out the door. Hopefully my flexible omega bones would save me.

And if not?

At least I’d die free.

2

EMILE

Our gorgeous little omega leapt out of the car before I could grab her, then tumbled twice. Lark scrambled to her feet, hands still bound before her, and took off down the city street. Conor slammed on the brakes and jerked the vehicle up on the sidewalk, swearing furiously as I took off after our girl—our mate.

“That was fucking sexy,” I shouted after her as I ran.

She turned around and flipped me off with both of her bound hands, her grin so gorgeous my chest ached.

I could feel Conor’s frustration through our bond, but goddess, a hunt? I was in love. Heady desire coursed through my veins at the thought of chasing her, catching her, and forcing her to take our cocks, to take our knots.

We’d waited so long for this—studied her, stalked her, built our penthouse with a nest for her, obsessed over every detail about this perfect, stunning woman. It’d rip my heart out if we lost her now.