Faith & the Dead End Devils (Sweet Omegaverse, #8)(26)

He was absorbing the information, eyes trailing over to the hall that would lead to where Chance and Butterfly had disappeared.

"And if you'd asked me, I would've said that we should've met Preston outside. It smells like fucking alpha dick and beta pussy in here. Her body would've been on high alert."

"Bowers was an asshole. I should've told him to back off the second he called her ‘little omega’," King muttered, drinking again.

I relaxed slightly, glad our instinct on the other man had hit in the same place.

"The longer she's around, the more the others will notice," King said slowly, not looking back at me. "Guys like Skid and Nutso get interested. And—quit fucking growling, asshole—and I wouldn't stand for them around her anymore than you would, okay? She can't stay because if she does, she won't be safe. And fighting the rest of the crew to try to set those boundaries? It would break the already fucking thin ice the club is on at the moment."

My eyes narrowed. "You think a coup is coming?"

"I think Rider would love the excuse to start one," King said, blinking. "Was only a matter of time. I stalled by giving him the VP seat."

Is the crew worth keeping together in that state? I wondered. But this crew was King's life.

The weight lowered onto my shoulders now too. If King lost me because of Butterfly, a head seat he knew was loyal to him, he was left with Ghost as road captain, Rider as VP, and Nutso as money. Nutso and Rider had grown up in the club together; they and Skid were closer than Rider was with his own brother, Chance. And Ghost had slid easily into their circle, although I wouldn't write him off King's card yet either. Still, it wasn't even, and it didn't bode well for my prez.

And yeah, if I dangled Butterfly in front of the others’ noses, that might be what would happen. Not that I had any intention of giving them a chance to even think about so much as touching her.

The damp label of the beer bottle brushed against the bite on my hand. It was healing, the teeth marks a little red pattern on my skin. When I brushed my thumb over the marks, a tremor ran through my chest, Butterfly's stress. I wanted—no, needed—to get back to her.

It might already be too late, I thought, staring at King. Maybe the bite wasn't a full bond, but it wasn't a lack of one either. Maybe my omega had claimed her alpha and it wasn't a matter of deciding if I could hold onto her—it was a matter of figuring out how. Preferably without completely screwing King over.

But she would come first, I thought. My omega would have to come before the club. I didn't know if King would ever accept that.

"How long will the heat last?" King asked, voice grim.

"Week or so, once it really hits," I said, thinking about her temper and her arousal lately. "I don't think we're quite there yet. She needs a better nest. Hell, I need a better nest than my tiny fucking closet."

King's expression was sour. "So you get a week-long fuck-fest, and I gotta hold the gates and my dick too?"

"I won't hold your dick for you," I said, flashing a grin. "But I can tap in Chance for breaks if you need something. Something important," I said.

King blinked at that. "Chance. O-okay."

Was he surprised I'd let a beta help an omega out with her heat? He didn't know shit about shit when it came to this.

I drank down the last of the beer and wiped my mouth on my sleeve. "About Bowers."

"I'm not inviting him back," King said quickly.

"Good," I growled and then shook my head and caught his eyes. "It's not that. He knows about her now. You can't take that back."

King scrubbed a hand through his short beard, smoothing thumb and forefinger over his mustache. "I know."

"It could mean trouble."

King nodded and repeated, "I know."

"Pay up that favor to him. Soon," I said, arching an eyebrow.

King arched one right back. He knew. He knew he'd fucked up. Time would tell how much. In the meantime…

I cleared my throat and tossed my empty bottle in the trash. "I need to see how she's doing."

"Right." King was quiet for a moment, watching me as I grabbed one of the bottles of fruity hard cider he kept on hand for some of the girls. "Bear…"

I turned my head. He was sitting at the bar, glaring meanly at the bottle in his hands, lined brow furrowed.

"Nothing," he grunted after waiting in silence a moment. He shook his head and pushed off from the bar, carrying the bottle on his way to his office.

I could call him back, but I had somewhere more important, better, to be.





12. FAITH





The door opened and shut, the thin walls of the motel room apartment trembling. I trembled with them, pressing my face to the deep wall of my nest. Chance's hand was clutched in mine and he sat on my bed, facing the room, legs stretched out ahead of him.

"What the fuck was King thinking?" Chance whispered.

I heard Bear's knees creak as he crouched down, his warm scent wrapping around me, making my shudders loose and heavy.

"We talked. He's… Fuck, Butterfly, come here," Bear called, voice breaking slightly.

I shook but didn't move.