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“No.” Atlas cases the room, a solid wall at my side. “You’re in charge. Tell me what we need.”
“Shit.” Hunter turns to me, trying to be reassuring, but I’m sweating and already so hot. Wish he wouldn’t look at me at all if he’s not going to offer up his knot. “We’ll get you out of here and take you somewhere quiet, okay Lilah? Finn?”
“Gotcha.” Finn scoops me up. I oof into his arms, face-bumping the button of the dress shirt I could totally unpop with my tongue.
Shit, I’m horny.
“Rub her back,” Orion says. “Purr. Keep her soothed.”
“Mmm.” Finn cradles me, and I start to calm, feeling his low rumble body-to-body.
Then he licks my jugular.
Electric-shocked, I jerk. “Not soothing!”
“So good,” Finn mumbles. “Hold on tight, Starbear.”
Hunter and Jett punch a hole through the crowd, Finn huddles me like a touchdown football, and Orion and Atlas move behind us, systematically taking down any asshole who makes a lunge.
Their formation is tight, their speed is bumping, and for half-a-second, I think we might actually walk out.
Ha.
More alphas unfold from the crowd.
And there are my gang tattoos.
Red-scaled ink flashes at their wrists.
Redfangs.
It’s a full-on invasion, and if I survive the night, I’m going to make it my personal mission to make sure every person working OCC security is lifetime-banned from the profession.
“Let me down.” I wiggle.
My omega instincts might be happy to let our crazed mate-candidates tote us around like a useless bump, but I’m too jaded.
Have to be ready to fight.
Have to be ready to run, to hide, and protect myself from the attackers.
Also have to deal with the insane urges that bubble every time a Wyvern kidney-punches a guy in my defense.
And the urge to beg Finn to tear into my itchy fucking neck while he sinks his knot into my empty, aching core.
The thirst is real and super unaffected by the life-or-death situation.
“I got you. Stay,” Finn slathers on that raspy alpha bark, and I’m in no condition to disobey.
Hunter and Jett picked up knives. Their hair’s messy and I can smell their sweat. Mezcal and cedar. They must’ve taken down twenty guys and they’re not slowing.
I can’t see Orion and Atlas, but I hear them close behind, grunting and punching.
If the Wyverns weren’t here, I’d already be zip-tied on Dominik Redfang’s floor.
But I can’t just watch. Can’t just rely on them to carry me to safety.
“I can fight,” I insist. “I can—”
