Faith & the Dead End Devils (Sweet Omegaverse, #8)(12)

I groaned, closed my eyes, and tried to recall the dark shadows of her on my bed from the night before, fueling my fantasy to the finish.





Chance opened his door after the fourth knock. His eyes were red, and his gelled-back hair was half mussed from sleep, pieces still held together with product. Chance had a dirtbag look to him that seemed to invoke automatic distrust in civvies, and sexual attraction in young women. Tattooed up to his ears, pierced, and constantly scowling. Handsome too. He could pull more trade than half the alphas in the club when he wanted, although he rarely bothered.

I couldn't catch much of his scent under the aftershave and occasional whiff of cigarettes, but it was the usual whisper of a beta.

"I need one of your shirts," I said.

He blinked, reaching a hand up and scrubbing it over the stubble that was starting to stab through the intricate design on his throat. "It won't fit."

I glanced down the length of the hall and lowered my voice. "To test your scent on her."

Chance grunted and turned, leaving the door hanging open. His room was…surprisingly clean, actually. He was meticulous about his looks. Maybe he was about cleanliness too. He dug into his closet and pulled out a rumpled black T-shirt, tossing it to me.

"What are you gonna do if she hates it?" he asked.

"Make you leave your door open and keep an eye out," I said, shrugging.

He scowled. "Like that won't look fuckin' weird?"

"Less suspicious than if she's throwing a fit," I said, leaving him standing there and heading back to my room.

Jerking off hadn't really relieved any of the pressure from the day before, and I wasn't in the mood for Chance's perpetual dark cloud of a personality. I'd seen a few moments of obvious trust towards him on King's part, but mostly what I observed from Chance was a general sense of being pissed off at the world for denying him an alpha's designation. Futile anger.

I slipped back into my room and found Butterfly in her nest again, curled up and watching me from the shadows. "I need to go out and get you supplies. I have a…friend I'd like to let keep an eye on you. If you're comfortable."

I held out the T-shirt. Under normal circumstances, introducing an omega to a beta would be a non-issue. Betas were inoffensive—biologically speaking, at least—and there was no ceremony for an introduction. But until I was sure Butterfly was totally out of her hindbrain and feeling secure, I needed to tread carefully and operate on the rules of instinct.

Scent knew best.

She reached out and accepted the garment, running it through her hands first before drawing it slowly to her face. Her nose wrinkled immediately, and my heart stuttered, but she didn't throw the T-shirt back at me.

"Beta," she said, frowning, gaze going distant.

I lowered into a crouch, watching every minute shift of her expression. "Better than an alpha," I said.

She scoffed and shivered. "Not really."

He can't bite you or knot you, I thought, but didn't bother saying. A beta could hurt an omega; she was right. And she'd obviously seen plenty of trouble without it coming to a bite.

I opened my mouth, ready to reject the idea, tell Chance to do his best work as a guard dog from outside, when she stuffed her face into the fabric and breathed deeply. Her eyes closed, brow furrowing, and I watched her in silence. She drew away slowly, blinking.

"It's a nice scent," she murmured. I bristled, unnecessarily jealous, and she added, "Kind of spicy. He won't touch me?"

"Absolutely not. He'll get you food if you ask. Drinks. Make sure no one bothers you." She took another deep whiff of the shirt, and I wrestled with the absurd urge to tear it out of her hands and replace it with one of mine. "You can even close the doors to the closet if you want. Don't have to talk to him. Get some rest," I suggested.

She hummed, and I clenched my hands as she looked up at me, tucking the shirt into the tangle of the sheets around her. Was that a conscious choice or not? Adding his scent to her nest seemed like a good sign.

"How long will you be gone?" she asked.

I tallied the tasks in my head. She'd need toys. Suppressants, although I wasn't sure if they'd take since her fever had already started. Good food and indulging treats. Clothes. More bedding. And pretty shit. All the little trinkets and decadent decorations the omegas I'd worked with seemed to have on hand for themselves during their heats.

"Most of the day," I admitted reluctantly.

She started to whine but swallowed the sound before I had to say anything. "Okay."

I held still, absorbing her acceptance. I should've waited until the last possible second to shower. I wanted to stuff myself into the nest, rub my scent all over her, make her come again for agreeing. But I needed to walk out of here without an omega's perfume clinging to me, and anyway, it was already late in the morning.

"Good girl," I said, purring for her as I stood, backing away before her blooming scent could catch at my legs. "I'm gonna let him in as I leave," I said.

She nodded, reaching out and missing the edge of the door as she reached for it, catching it on the second try. I paused at the sight and watched as it slid shut on a creaky track.

Shop and come back. Ask her more questions tonight. Suck on her clit till she thrashes and loses her breath again.