Faith & the Dead End Devils (Sweet Omegaverse, #8)(44)

Soft words were spoken, and Rook only managed to get on one knee before Chance had the blade biting against his throat.

He was fierce, dangerous.

Mine, the creature in me howled.

Skinny raised his hands, wavering side to side as he backed away slowly, stumbling in the uneven parking lot.

"Gonna fuckin' regret this," Skinny said as Chance shifted just enough to let his buddy rise. Little flecks of red hit the cracked pavement as the bigger man spat to the ground.

"Bullshit," Chance called back. "You're gonna go back and explain to Chappy that you got your asses handed to you by just one Devil. And if he sends any more of you fuckers around here, it'll be the same story, except you won't be going back with a warning. This is our fuckin' territory. It's staying that way."

"Sure thing, sweetheart. We'll see," Skinny hollered, but he was out of view to me now, Rook edging warily around Chance.

An engine roared to life, and low in my belly a monster gnawed with hunger as I stared at Chance's back.

I didn't care about territory. I didn't care about Devils or Wasted. Chance had protected me, as promised. Viscerally, effectively...brutally. A base, instinctive, ancient part of me approved of the blood on his hands on a shocking and sexual level. I pressed forward into the cushions of the couch, ignoring the old, faded scents of other alphas and betas, grinding my hips there as I watched Chance standing still in the parking lot. A second engine joined the first, their snarls now seeming pathetic. They were the sound of surrender, not victory. Chance had scared them away.

And now I needed Chance, needed those fists to loosen and touch me, that cool mouth to press over mine.

My breath was uneven, my breasts aching as I humped weakly at the cushion. The gesture only relieved the craving for movement, lacking pressure and focus.

My eyes fell shut as I listened to the growling retreat of the other men, my memory clarifying the blur of Chance's movements, the strength of his arms, the sharp strike of his fists, even the cracking sound of impact.

I opened my eyes again just as Chance turned. His focus was on me, or so it seemed, as if he could see through the mirrored reflection behind the desk directly to where I knelt, panting and aching. He glanced once more at the road and then pulled the door open, stepping inside and locking it behind him. He almost seemed like the man I recognized, quiet and patient. But there was a grim quality to his expression now, and his shoulders were tighter. He paused again at the door, not moving closer to me, and my own impatience won out.

I hurried off the couch, ignoring my weak legs, and opened the door to the office just as he rounded the desk.

We both froze, and I fought the discomfort of my vision to stare back at him. I caught a whiff of an overly musky alpha scent lingering around him. He'd fought an alpha. My hand slapped against the desk counter, and my knees shook.

"Did you watch?" he asked, voice soft, face turned slightly to the side.

I nodded and swallowed. "Are they gone?" My voice was ragged.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, bir—"

I cut Chance off, throwing my body into his, clawing at his shoulders as I tried to climb into his chest, my back arched and chin raised. My mouth slanted over his with a muffled echo of surprise rising from him and a low moan from me.

Chance had always been so sweet to me, so gentle, and I wanted to return the favor to him, but I was starving for his touch, biting at his lips. A strange, primal part of me wanted him to be as rough with me as he had been with the Wasted.

For a moment, he gave no response, only parting his lips to let me thrust my tongue inside, searching for his fresh and slightly soapy flavor. Then, as fast as he'd spun and kicked the larger man, Chance's arms were around my hips and my back was slammed into the mirror. It shuddered behind me as I groaned in approval. I spread my legs and then jumped, Chance's hands catching my ass eagerly, squeezing hard, as I wrapped my thighs around his hips.

His tongue curled around mine, both of us crying out as I started to grind again, this time to a much improved result. Chance's jeans were rough against the soft fabric of my leggings, his stirring cock a more direct pressure against my needy sex.

One hand tightened on my ass to the point of a beautiful aching bite, and his other slid up my back to fist my hair in his grip. Chance's mouth pulled from mine, our breath loud in the quiet hollow space. If the Wasted came back now, they would see us together. They'd see me wrapped around the beta, moaning like the desperate omega I was. I stared at the doorway as Chance dragged his lips and tongue and teeth to my ear.

He leaned in hard, stealing my breath and forcing a whine from my lips as he dug his hips between my thighs. "Did watching me fight those assholes make you wet, birdy? I can feel your slick soaking into my fucking jeans."

"Yes!" I gasped, rubbing and hiccuping as Chance bit on the lobe of my ear.

"Because it made you scared?"

I blinked and then shook my head, and Chance pulled away. This close, I could make him out so well. The lines of his cheekbones as they carved down to the muscle of his jaw. The perfect aquiline arrow of his nose. The eyebrow sharpening as it arched.

I licked my lips and his gaze flicked to my tongue, green eyes going darker. "Because it made me feel safe," I whispered.

Chance blinked, and then I was breathless again, his tongue deep in my mouth, rough and hungry, every inch of his chest pressed to mine. His body surged, bucking and pinning me in place. His hand in my hair tightened and twisted, pulling on the roots. I moaned as I sucked on his tongue, the mark of pain in my hair enhancing the edges of the pounding in my cunt. Chance's grip on my ass squeezed in time with his rocking motions.