Faith & the Dead End Devils (Sweet Omegaverse, #8)(124)

Chance shot him an annoyed glance and spent more time on his answer. "I trust their motives. They'd protect you and your brother for the sake of it, and not just for the club or as a favor to King. So…yes," he said slowly, reluctantly.

I nodded. "Then I'm okay. Make sure Ghost doesn't get punched in the face again."

Ghost laughed and leaned in, tickling his beard against my tender throat, over Chance's marks.

"Maybe he can get hit from the other side. Straighten his face out a bit," Chance suggested, smiling at me.

I rose on my toes, catching that smile with my teeth, Ghost smushed between Chance and me, nibbling on my throat. We parted slowly, cheeks rubbing together until their scents mingled on my skin.

"Love you," I whispered to Chance, and I squeezed Ghost's hand in mine, sending the feeling along to him, even without being quite ready to give voice to the words.

Bear's arms circled my shoulders as they stepped away, and he pulled me back into his broad chest, both of us taking slow, deep breaths.

"You've kept me safe all this time," I said, and Bear grunted. He was still surly and reluctant, annoyed with the plan. But I knew Bear, and if he didn't think it was best, he would've told Eve and King and all the others to go fuck themselves. "You won't stop now," I said, twisting to smile up at him.

Bear sighed, crouching over me, creating a deep shelter with his arms. "Feel better knowing your brother has a tracker up his ass."

"Ew!" I squawked, elbowing Bear. "Is that true? Why do you know that?! Don't tell me."

He laughed and shook his head, smacking noisy kisses against my cheek. "Teasing you, Butterfly."

"Don't talk about my brother's ass," I muttered, trying to shake thoughts out of my head.

Bear turned me to face him, clasped my face in his hands, and waited for me to meet his eyes. I hadn't even been able to see this man when we’d met, to see those rich, dark eyes or the strong brow, his full mouth, and I'd still known to grab onto him with hands and teeth and not lose him.

"I love you," we said at once. Bear beamed down at me, leaning in and resting his forehead against mine.

"Time to roll out," King called from his position at the head of the ride.

Bear grumbled and I caught his mouth briefly, pressing a tender kiss there before we stepped away from one another. Adam was delivering a similar goodbye to his pack, the four alphas stepping into a Jeep they used on missions. At the door to the motel, our chaperones waited, steel-eyed and cautious.

Grim opened the door for me, nodding inside, but I waited until Bear was on his bike, engine revving, before I walked slowly backwards into the shelter of the clubhouse.

"My only regret is not joining them in wiping the desert floor with those Wasted fucks," Grim said at my side. He glanced down at me, a careful smile on his lips. He was tall and lanky, with tight copper curls and freckled brown skin. "But I'm proud to be here to keep an eye on you and your brother. Pack is important."

I nearly looked away as King and the crew pulled out of the parking lot. "Do you want a pack someday?" I asked.

"I always felt like I had one here," Grim said. "But now I think I'd like something closer to what you five have."

"Well, I hope you find it," I said. Adam joined us in the doorway, pressing into my side. "And I'm grateful for your help."

Grim nodded. "Let's get inside. We've got a long wait ahead of us."

I watched the dust cloud from the retreating bikes until it was only the small and shabby view of Dead End.





I knew the moment action hit with my pack, the spike of adrenaline sending both Adam and me up out of our booth seats at the bar, our chaperones watching us from the pool table.

"Hate this part," Adam muttered, pacing the floor, arms wrapped tight around his chest.

I found myself behind the bar, cleaning bottles and glasses, reorganizing as I fell inward, searching for the slightest flinch or spark of injury.

"It seems to be going smoothly?" I asked.

Adam nodded. "Pretty hands-off plan. And even if it goes sideways, we outnumber the Wasted easily."

I sighed, staring at the bottle of good vodka in my hand before reaching for a short glass.

"Whatever you're making, make two," Adam said, crossing to sit on a barstool.

I found the cranberry juice the beta girls hid and made us a pair of strong drinks, complete with lemon wedges.

"You love your pack, right?"

I looked up from the counter and found Adam staring at me, his eyes wide, lips folded in, waiting for my answer. He shook slightly, and I knew from our years together that his heel was jiggling against the stool.

"I do," I said, scooting the drink across the counter.

"So everything…it all worked out," Adam said, still too earnest, still shaking.

I opened my mouth to say yes, but I remembered the camera in the corner of my cell with Omikron, the stomach cramps from the drugs they'd used, being grabbed at and hauled around like an uncooperative doll.

"Are you angry with me?" Adam whispered, eyes watering, leaning across the bar. "For losing you that night?"

"No." I sighed, relieved by the truth, and by the second half of Adam's question.