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“You’ve trained her well,” Tobias says to my father.
“She’ll be a good girl for you,” Nikolaj replies.
I’m strung too tight to shudder.
So close to letting go.
“Good? How? She’s making demands before I even get my taste.” Rod’s pheromones punch through the smoke. He smells like diesel splashed on asphalt.
Sharp and lingering, just like his eyes cutting my neckline as he creeps into my space.
Rod lifts my arm, so close to blowing my fuse.
Still blissfully distant, I watch the alphas surround the poor, little lamb. Rod sniffs my wrist and drags his nose to my elbow like he’s doing a line off my lace. “Vodka lemon. Daddy likes.”
Crawling doesn’t cover the waves rolling underneath my skin.
Buckets of tarantulas would be a joy compared to Rod’s dog-shit touch.
My skin roils like my blood’s determined to boil off the ick.
His hands beeline to my ass.
One hard pull, and I’m flush to his sweaty, motor-oil body. “Give us a kiss, Omega.”
I’m too far gone to panic.
With a lemon-sugar smile, I sidestep, not resisting, but gently encouraging Rod onto the couch.
Oblivious, he drops, yanking me over his lap with a satisfied growl.
When my thighs spread, I linger in the cold, numb haven I’ve visited too many times before.
I don’t feel his hands.
I don’t feel anything but licking flames as I lean into his body, letting my hair fall forward to hide my toxic kiss.
“Good night, Rod.” I blow poisoned air between his lips.
For a fraction of a second, his eyes pinch.
Too late, he realizes he’s not the hunter.
Nineteen to go.
I clamp his mouth and muffle his croak with a porn-star moan. “More. Alphas.”
The air’s so heavy with lust and smoke, no one scents the subtle whiff of death.
All feral growls and cocky expectations, the Salernos crowd to steal the taste they think they’re owed.
Hands paw my skin, rip at my skirt.
The roiling, blood-boiling ick spins through my veins, but I focus on using the tangle of bodies as a screen.
The alpha who nips my wrist gets whipped with killer pheromones before his teeth rip skin. Easy as snapping fingers, he sags.
Before he hits the ground, I’m already dodging another attempted kiss, blowing toxin into a Bourg’s tear-drop tatted face.
