Faith & the Dead End Devils (Sweet Omegaverse, #8)(64)

I ignored the question, wrapping my arms around Chance's shoulders, aware of the stare fastened to us. I hadn't gotten much of a look at the alpha earlier, only enough to know he was handsome with dark curly hair and a dense beard. He'd marked Chance with his scent at one point, and glared daggers at me earlier.

"Are you mine, Chance?" I asked, just loud enough for the alpha to overhear us.

Chance tensed, but he never drew his stare away from mine, and his hands stroked up my back to my shoulders, drawing me down on his lap, pressing me to his chest. His grin was slow and a little oily, something soft and cruel in the expression, but it brightened and cleared as he stared up at me.

"Yes, all yours, birdy," Chance said.

The alpha's scent thickened as I ducked and crashed my lips into Chance's, dug my fingers into his shoulders and wrapped myself tighter around him. The bar had been clean and quiet this morning, but it was already filled with the scents of booze and sex and pheromones. I didn't care.

Jealous alphas watched Chance and me kiss, and a few grew brave, whistling in appreciation. King could refuse me or refuse himself, but I would bite him myself before I let him keep Bear or Chance out of reach.

"You tryin' to start a fight?" Chance whispered, kissing the lobe of my ear and then pulling it between his teeth.

My breath hitched, and I rocked on his lap. "Between who?" I asked.

Chance released my lobe with a final nibble, leaning back against the booth. He glanced at the alpha in the booth with us but his stare didn't linger. "Us and the world."

I grinned. He wasn't really wrong. "Do you think we'd win?"

Chance grinned back, and this one was pure and just for me. "Oh, absolutely."

"In that case, yes," I said, and I fell back into him, swallowing his laugh with my kiss, swallowing the groans of pleasure that followed too.

There was a breath of warning—leather and bite on my tongue as Chance and I pulled apart—and then a warm hand grasped around my arm.

I squeaked and Chance laughed as King pulled me bodily off the beta's lap.

"What the he—"

"No games, princess," King snapped, tugging me close and pressing his lips against my ear. "If I go chasing you down a hallway in front of my club, you better believe my old lady will get what's coming to her."

I swallowed hard and dropped my gaze to his chest to hide my glare. Or to hide from his.

"Chance, you comin'?" King said. "Little thing is a handful tonight."

A roar of laughter went up from the nearby tables, and I turned to look at Chance. But the other alpha was the one who caught my gaze. He looked angry. More than angry—he looked like he wanted to hit King, or me, or Chance. I wasn't sure, but the force of that dark stare sent me stumbling back into King's chest, and his hand came down on my hip, soothing the spot with more care than he put in his words.

Chance stared at us from the booth, expression blank, and then glanced around the room, shaking his head. "I'll meet you up there later."

"But—" I started, and King squeezed my hip, silencing me.

"Can't guarantee I won't wear her out before you get up there" King said, shrugging behind me, still stroking my hip as my face went hot, thrilled and embarrassed in equal measure.

Chance smirked and nodded, the motion stiff. An eyebrow arched at me, and I let out a breath. If I begged Chance to join us, he would. And I wanted to, not just as a buffer against King, but to drag Chance away from that alpha who'd turned that hateful glare on me again, stretched out in the booth as if he were relaxed, calm, tipsy even, his eyes saying the exact opposite. But King was already guiding me back to the hallway and Chance had said he would stay and my head was muddled.

"Who is that?" I asked King, staring at the alpha.

King's arm tightened around my hip as he answered. "Ghost, our road captain. Not for you."

I jolted and shook my head. "Wasn't asking like that."

"Call us if you need an extra hand, prez!"

"Or another knot!"

"Don't see why the fuckin’ beta should get to slide into that ripe piece."

"He ain't even fucking interested."

King's jaw was ticking by the time we made it to the hallway, clenched so tight I wasn't sure he'd be able to speak. But when he did it sounded calm, even.

"They saw you go into my office, princess. Saw you storm out, run to Chance. We don't look like the happy couple, like I'm your good old man, when you put on a scene like that."

"I'm sorry," I started.

King shook his head. "You don't need to be. You just need to know why I'm gonna be a possessive brute in front of the club."

I released the breath I'd been holding and leaned into King until he nestled me into his side. His treatment of me was a confusing mix of possessive and cold, tender and commanding. I wanted all of it, if I were honest with myself, and enjoyed the way he tied me up in knots and then unraveled me. I just wished there was actual solid ground beneath all the turbulence, reassurance that King wouldn't drop me for good.

I'd been trying to push against him, direct him into position. It had worked, to an extent—I'd gotten him in my bed, his protection and promise he wouldn't immediately pass me off to a pack of strangers. Maybe it was time to follow his lead for a little while.