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That was the difference. Alphas shared bites, carrying each other’s fealty, devotion, and eternal brotherhood out in the open. Omegas wore their alpha bites like a master’s brand.
But there it was, poking out from beneath the smoking vampire’s cuff, his suit a perfect match for Ambrose’s, just a lush crimson instead of black.
“This is Kane.” It was only then I realized I hadn’t had the courage to look at this vampire’s face—only his hand, where the cigarette burn had vanished from his palm, then the bite mark on his wrist, the general color of his suit. With a gulp, I lifted my gaze for a quick study. A dark olive complexion met hair so black it had a blue glint to it under the muted lights. He wore it half up, half down, the thick waves reaching well past his shoulders.
Whereas Ambrose was all svelte and limber, Kane wasthick. Broader than broad shoulders, a chest that filled out his suit and then some, arms that tested the fabric’s strength, and thighs like tree trunks.
When he smiled, his fangs somehow seemed sharper than Ambrose’s, more pronounced. My face lit up, burning from the inside out, when I met the inferno of his eyes. Surrounded by thick black lashes and defined brows, they scorched down to my core, to the very essence of who I was as an omega. Sharp angles, just like his bond, he had bee-stung lips and was freshly shaven, the black stubble probably rough, his jaw strong and pronounced, his dark beauty belonging with me in the tropics, somewhere coastal and wild but also aggressively luxurious.
A standout feature: the smaller teeth beside his fangs were each dotted with a teeny, tiny ruby.
“Kane,” Ambrose drawled, some whisper of a velvety accent I didn’t recognize coming out to play, “this is our omega for the night… Hollis.”
“Holly,” I countered instinctively, folding in on myself when the pair swapped smirks. Without a word, Kane tipped his head to the side—then stuck out his left foot. I blinked down at the brown leather loafer, at the lack of socks and the smattering of black hair on his calves where his crimson dress pants rode up.
Uh.
What am I supposed to do with that?
No one said a word. They waited, not a sound in the room except the forced air circulating the vents, until I shuffled closer, knees already aching on the smooth marble floor, and leaned down to kiss his shoe.
Like a noble kissing a king’s ring.
Vampires were ancient, right?
That… was the play here?
The moment my lips made contact, I smelledhimmore than I did the leather. Kane’s scent was gunpowder. It was titanium sprinkled with moon-blessed rainwater.
With undertones of cinnamon.
And his satisfied alphapurrrumbled between my thighs like I was straddling his chest, not kneeling at his feet.
“Now, this is Laszlo.”
A gentle jerk of my diamond leash and I was on the move again, crawling from one armchair to the other, lifting my gaze to eyes brown like gingerbread. They were a match to his hair, light blondish-brown and ruffled, a little chaotic on the styling compared to his bonds. Laszlo was the balm to Kane and Ambrose, his face more oval, softer around the edges, his beard neat and trim, his skin somehow both sun-kissedandsallow, the vampire side of him stealing the glow. He wore a navy suit and the same crisp white button-up, but when he smiled, his fangs were less intimidating.
Almost like he angled them a certain way to hide the fact that they could rip out my throat in a second.
“Hello, little omega,” he rumbled, leaning down and offering both his hands palm up. I licked my lips, taken with the clean crispness of his scent, like fresh linens hanging to dry on a balmy spring day. There was a sweeter nuance there not common among alphas, his figure in the safe middle ground on the spectrum of Ambrose to Kane. A warm and gooey feeling crashed over me like a wave on the rocks, and I slipped both of my hands into his, pleasantly surprised to find them a little calloused, a little worn.
“Hello, Alpha,” I whispered back, tongue with a mind of its own.
With a gentle grin, Laszlo eased down and kissed the tops of my hands, his touch as cool and strong as his bond’s, his presence just as heavy.
“You smell divine,” he murmured. “Like the temples of the goddess herself, I bet.” He then stroked the tops of my hands with his thumbs as he settled back in his armchair. “Delightful. What a treat.”
Before tonight, I hated alpha compliments. Whether it was a comment on my scent, my looks, the sound of my voice—barf.
Now, I found myself yearning to curl up in Laszlo’s lap so he could stroke my hair and tell memore.
My perfume thickened, punchy and fragrant even to my own nose, probably wreaking havoc on a vampire’s rumored enhanced senses. Slick dampened my club-issued thong, made more apparent with the slightest movement, and another wave pounded into me, embarrassment a very unwelcome grounding mechanism.
“You know why you’re here, correct?” Ambrose asked. He abandoned my necklace for my elbows, carefully lifting me to my feet and maneuvering me so I stood in front of the two armchairs, right in the middle. Then, to my horror, he started to strip me, unwrapping me like the yuletide present they made me. Off went the chemise. Next came my bra clasp, the poky metal underwire finally lifting so I couldbreatheagain. His touch might have been cool, an icy winter breeze on a sunny day, but every brush of his skin against mine was just another lit match—and I was covered in gasoline.
He peeled off my armor, the sliver of protection this stupid outfit provided.
And I just nodded.
