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They shake hands, Abel shooting a glare in my direction before he stalks away.
“Well, you didn’t have to be an asshole,” Boyd says after he’s gone. He rolls his eyes at me. “These fellas just gave usa lotof money, Javi—all for black-bagging some dumb little omega in Texas and bringing her here. Easy job, big payout. What’s not to like?”
His words rile me up, though I can’t pinpoint exactly why. He’s right in almost every regard—and I’ve never questioned a job like this—but…
“I don’t even know what she did,” I say.
Boyd snorts. “Why does it matter?”
“Because I’m not justmuscle, Boyd,” I grumble.
“Or is it because you want to fuck her?” he says.
I meet his eyes and I instantly know he’s onto me. I groan and roll my neck. “Fuck off.”
Boyd lets out a loud laugh, shaking his head. “Called it. Knew you’d grown a boner and not a conscience.”
“It’s the damn full moon,” I mutter.
“Where’s your wolfsbane?”
My shoulders slump. “Ran out on the trip over.”
“For real?” Boyd glances around. “Well, lucky for you there’s no shortage of gorgeous girls around here—and we’ve been invited to use any and all of the facilities here on the Rig.”
I follow his gaze, looking around at the betas in the room. Sure, they’re pretty—some are downright stunning. But I know, deep down, that none of them would compare to the heat I felt radiating off Peaches. Even now, my mouth waters at the memory of her fruity scent, juicy, sweet…to be buried in her would blow my fucking mind.
“Wouldn’t be the same,” I say.
“One touch and you’re an addict,” Boyd says. “You alphas—I don’t get it.”
“Have you got your eye on someone?” I ask, leaning back against the bar. There’s a pretty brunette making eyes at Boyd. She could honestly do worse, especially since we’ve taken more than one beta female away from a hellhole like this. “How about that one?”
“Take it easy, bud,” Boyd says. “I’m still getting drunk. In fact, I was going to—”
He doesn’t finish his sentence. A frightened shriek pierces the noise of the mess and we both snap our heads toward it, fixating on the scene at the end of the bar. Abel has grabbed the bartender by her hair and is in the process of dragging her across the bar, the girl letting out a scream. He hauls her into his lap and goes right for her clothes, his hands all over her. She bats him away, but the others round on her like hungry dogs waiting for their next meal.
I exchange a glance with Boyd.
“Don’t,” he warns.
But I’m already moving, my water forgotten, my claws out and thirsty for blood. I sprint all the way down the bar toward Abel in the blink of an eye, grabbing him by the back of the shirt and flinging him across the room. He bowls through a few other men, snarls erupting around me.
I square my shoulders and bare my teeth, letting him see my partial transformation.
I’m bigger than him.
He knows it.
“Leave her alone,” I growl. “She’s not interested.”
“She doesn’t have a choice,” Boyd cackles. He’s drunk—too stupid not to provoke me.
I take a step forward. “She’s. Not. Interested.”
He gets to his feet and makes to walk toward her again, but I lunge and take hold of his shirt, pulling him face to face with me. I can smell the stench of his fear, see the realization that he’s bitten off more than he can chew.
“Okay, man—okay,” Abel says. “You can calm down.”
