Faith & the Dead End Devils (Sweet Omegaverse, #8)(61)

"I am not," King bit out at his VP before looking around the table. "This is not the first time club members shared an old lady, and it won't be the last. All I need to know right now is if my men, my brothers, are going to be loyal to this club and its property. Or if any of you think it'd be clever to give the Wasted exactly what they fuckin' want."

"If we'd raided guns or drugs, we'd've gotten an equal cut of the returns," Skid pointed out, a dangerous look in his stare on the omega. "This just doesn't seem to work out so fair."

Bear snarled but King raised a hand, silencing them both. "There's no fucking money. And if it's pussy you want…you'll see plenty of it around here. Called in some friends. But, and mistake me if I'm wrong, we deal in ladies’ fucking choice around here." For the first time, King looked down at the woman at his side. "You wanna fuck Skid, princess?"

She was staring up at him, pale and visibly nervous, but she didn't whine or tremble, just shook her head, eyes dropping at the laughter that echoed around the table.

"There you have it," King said, arching an eyebrow. "And if I see any of you fuckers shooting your shot, you'll have the three of us to answer to."

Their expressions were grim, their broad bodies surrounding her. It'd been a long time since anyone had claimed a new old lady, and it certainly hadn't been met with this tension.

Was it that the club knew she was a war prize, snatched from the hands of the Wasted? Or was it all the shit Rider was stirring with King, fissures of resentment and distrust crackling along the surface of the club's loyalties?

King twisted and nodded to Chance, who took the signal to tug Butterfly to her feet. That sure as shit wasn't her name, and she didn't look like some airy carefree creature to me as she tucked herself into Chance's side and followed his lead to the door.

"Now let's cover the rest of this shit with the trip and the Wasted and get you gentlemen into better company," King declared, feigning cheer, gaze tracking Chance and the woman's progress to the door.

I tracked them too, his arm around her shoulder and hers around his waist. A fucking old lady for Chance? Just weeks after he'd fucked me and told me not to show up at his door again?

I called bullshit. At the very least, I wasn't fucking accepting the change. I wasn't giving up Chance.





24. FAITH





I stretched my arms over my head and lifted my face into the spray of the shower. I was alone for the first time in days, using Chance's shower instead of the one in Bear's room, which still smelled strongly of the heat and all of our scents.

And for the first time in months, I was on suppressants again. It was almost like getting myself back. I'd spent years on suppressants, living as a beta while on the run with my brother, and going off of them had been like discovering a foreign animal inside of me. The brand Bear had brought was milder, a relieving compromise between the muffled cotton of heavy suppressants and the extreme sensation of being an omega.

I could breathe again, be me again.

There was a knock on the bathroom door, and then Chance's head appeared through the foggy distortion of the semi-sheer shower curtain.

"Brought the fluffy towels and shit from Bear's bathroom. You good?"

He didn't approach the shower, and I wasn't sure if I had to invite him in with me…

No. No, I didn't have to, but I could if I wanted to. I sighed at the reminder, brushing damp fingers over the ceiling as I stretched to my toes.

"I'm good," I answered.

"'Kay. I'm gonna go steal a couple pizzas from downstairs before the guys get out of church. I'll lock the door."

"Thank you, Chance."

"You got it, old lady," he said, warm and light.

I grinned as the door clicked shut. The words old lady didn't mean much to me, but Bear and Chance had lit up when they said it, murmured it as they peppered my skin with kisses. And I would be lying if I said the way King forced it out in the meeting hadn’t thrilled me. He held himself at arm's length from me, but wasn't apparently willing to deny himself the claim in front of the others.

Pack, the sedated hindbrain whispered in my head. I was claiming them in my way.

But no bites yet.

I took my time in the shower, and the glass mirror was fogged as I stepped out. Chance had brought the best towels and all of the lovely skin creams and hair nonsense Bear had gotten me. The kinds of products I'd never in my life dreamed of owning.

I wiped the mirror with a washcloth and stared at my own reflection. I'd lost weight while trapped, but I'd started gaining it back. Eating was less of a trial of will now, and I'd stopped gagging on pills. I trusted my environment, trusted the men who were taking care of me.

I am safe, I thought, staring at my own reflection, hands braced against the cool linoleum counter. Safe and protected and cared for. I'd been surviving on the first point for so long. It was nice to add new markers to the list.

I reached up to pull the towel from my wet hair and scowled at the mess on my head. My long hair had grown wildly tangled during the heat, and Bear had tried brushing it a couple times, but I'd just whined and then ended up wanting more sex anyway. Now it was fully matted at the back, tangled to my waist, ends ragged and tired.