Faith & the Dead End Devils (Sweet Omegaverse, #8)(113)

"You're afraid of asking for too much," Eve said, and then before I could digest that, she added, "Adam still is. We're working on it."

She loves him, I realized. She was terrifying and deadly and cold and a little mean too, but she loved my brother. And that did a lot to win me over.

"Want to play a game?" she asked, and it took me a moment to realize the question was directed over my head.

I felt a cool tug in the bond and then a warm, familiar hand settled on my back. I looked up into Chance's sharp, studying stare, and my smile spread instinctually, his own hinted at in the corners of his eyes.

"I noticed a target board," Eve said to Chance. "And you could use the practice."

"She's acting up 'cause Adam and Garrett aren't here to stare disapprovingly at her," Jamie said, following Chance to our table, rounding it as Eve glared at him.

"That's not your job too?" I asked him.

His smile was silky, even in the force of Eve's dangerous atmosphere. "Never."

If she preened in response, it was too subtle to say for certain.

"Sure," Chance answered her at last. "I suppose you might have something to teach me."

"Humility," Eve answered, grinning. "My knives are in the trunk. I won't coach you, but if you watch carefully, you might learn something useful."

I probed the bond, and Ghost circled me curiously, following along as I found a mix of amusement, annoyance, and interest in Chance.

Adam and Rory returned, armed with an excessive array of snacks, as we moved around toward the back of the garage, where the desert spread out like a warm blanket past Dead End. Chance's targets were makeshift, red and white nearly circles hand-painted on plywood boards. There were more tables here behind the garage, more barrels filled with old beer bottles with sun-faded labels and flies buzzing wishfully. We dragged the tables into the shade as Eve and Chance appeared, black cases filled with gleaming knives in hand.

"I hope your packmate's not a sore loser," Adam murmured, and Garrett laughed and elbowed him in the side.

Ghost and I exchanged a brief uncertain glance. Neither of us was sure how Chance would respond if bested by an alpha. By this alpha.

Ghost's side pressed to mine, and we were clumsy together in the bond. It was impulsively formed, premature, but I liked the almost nervous flavor of him in my chest, so at odds with the cocky persona he shared with his club brothers. His hand landed in my lap and my thighs snapped together reflexively, but he wasn't teasing me. He grinned, content with his fingers clasped between my legs, a giddy happiness extended to me in the bond.

"You first," Eve said to Chance.

I'd watched him before, the ease and expertise in every step and flex, the flick and toss of the knife toward the target. Ghost and I both flinched as it hit, right of center, wide from the goal for Chance. He was nervous.

Eve made no remark, just waited as he stepped aside and then took her own place.

He moved back far enough to study her head-to-toe, and I wasn't surprised when her knife struck heavily, centered in the slight oval of the bullseye.

"Again," Chance said, taking a few steps closer.

Eve didn't argue, just nodded. "Next ring up," she declared, and then the knife was catching sunlight at every whipping turn in the air, lodging exactly straight above her first, just one ring up.

"Ring below," Chance said, tipping his head.

She threw, and it landed, perfect again. "Ready now?" she asked, arching a brow.

Chance was quiet for a moment, gaze distant.

"He'll get it," Ghost murmured, his fingers squeezing my flesh just a little.

"Ready," Chance said, nodding.

"Rory, grab mine," Eve said.

The alpha pulled Eve's knives from the board and stepped aside as Chance positioned himself. He shifted briefly, and then before I knew it, the knife was tossed. I barely had time to catch my breath or brace before it landed.

Ghost was booming in the bond, but I waited, watching Eve study the target.

"Good," she said, head dipping once. "Let's get a better target."

Chance showed almost no reaction, an equally brief nod of his head, but I beamed for him and Ghost whooped once, grinning as Chance flicked a roll of his eyes in our direction. He was proud of himself, and we would show it, even if he wouldn't.





The knife-throwing contest attracted the rest of the club, one member at a time, until the area behind the garage was blaring rock music out of speakers, the grill was pluming smoke into the air, and someone finally bothered to empty the old barrels so they could be filled anew.

Garrett had staked a large, branchy plant to the target, and Eve and Chance were taking turns telling each other which branch to cut off. He missed occasionally by tiny margins. She never did.

Every few turns, one of the other club members would get it in their head to join Chance and Eve, only to be promptly humiliated and heckled from the sidelines by those of us who knew better than to challenge the real experts.

"It's a good thing you bonded him," Garrett said to Ghost where our packs were clustered together at one table. "Eve likes to collect pretty and deadly people."

Bear and Ghost sat on either side of me, and I was comfortable between their heat as the sun set and their scents sharpened.