Faith & the Dead End Devils (Sweet Omegaverse, #8)(66)
My hand clenched around the now lukewarm bottle in my hand, and Ghost leaned more heavily into my side, his arm hanging casually over my shoulders.
"Gotta be honest, she's got a funk to her up close," Ghost answered.
"Bet that's just how stuffed full of spunk she is after a couple weeks of getting railed by Prez and Bear," said Natalie, club ass and part-time bartender, cheerful as ever.
I didn't mind Natalie, in spite of the three-week run she'd had a while ago of riding Ghost's dick any time he snapped his fingers. She was funny and as disgustingly foul-mouthed as any of the guys. And right now, I wanted to smash my beer over her head.
"You have a lot of fun pulling your dick and watching that girlie get railed, Chance?" Buck asked, grinning and winking at Natalie as he pulled a slug of his beer. "Bet he had to wait till the alphas were asleep to get his dick wet, poor guy."
"You see the way King pulled her right off him?" Natalie laughed and winked at me.
I ignored them. I could get pissy with Buck, start a fight, but the other alphas would pile on me or pull him out of reach. I could tell them all about the way Faith had made me fuck her first thing this morning while Bear watched us and jerked off. But the last thing I wanted was any of these fuckers thinking about her more than they already were.
"Oh, if I know our Chance, I know he's already learned all the ways to turn that girl into an absolute worthless heap," Ghost said.
I pushed my bottle across the bar and jerked myself out of Ghost's hold, shoving the chair into his hip as I exited from the right to avoid him.
"You're all happy to run your mouths until Bear walks in the room, I bet," I said, reminding them that while they may not have respected me, they sure as shit weren't gonna talk about our girl while the club enforcer was within earshot. It did the trick of shutting them up, and I headed for the backdoor of the bar.
It was tempting to go hunt down King and Faith in the nest, take out my frustrations in a way that would—in fucking fact—leave Faith a worthless heap. But I was riled up and angry, and I knew the club would be talking shit about King tonight in certain circles.
If only I didn't have a fucking Ghost attached to me.
His scent followed me out into the backyard, where Danielle was entertaining a few guys at the picnic bench with her multi-tasking skills of hands and mouth.
"Join in, Ghost!"
I scowled at the confirmation of being followed, and Ghost answered them, "Later. Got something to catch up on in the garage. Come on."
His hand landed against my back again and I spun, fists clenched at my sides. Ghost was smart, stepping out of reach immediately, and only his expression stopped me from swinging. Ghost was not a serious man. He was more like a sponge, soaking up all the attention he was granted, all the humor and energy around him. He soaked up my frustrations and rage too when we were together, and instead of infecting him, they seemed to just run through him, leaving us both limp and relaxed for brief moments.
So seeing him staring back at me, sober and tense, tipping his head in the direction of the garage gave me pause. He moved to lead the way, and after a brief internal struggle I followed, ignoring the slurping and the low, almost aimless grunts we left behind us.
The garage was cool and quiet as Ghost opened the door, and he switched on a table lamp rather than the overhead lights. The bikes were lined up into their places, still dusted from the road. Tomorrow, they'd be cleaned and tuned up, mostly by Ghost, who fussed over machinery like a nursemaid over her charges.
"The fuck is your problem tonight?" I asked.
"What the hell is King thinking?" Ghost asked, leaning up against a counter with his arms crossed over his chest.
His tools were organized in tidy rows behind him. Before Ghost, the Devil's road captain and head mechanic was named Busted, and the garage had been a greasy, chaotic nest just waiting to give a man tetanus. By comparison, Ghost kept the place as clean and organized as a religious sanctuary.
"It's not a pack," I said automatically.
"I don't give a fuck, it looks like one," Ghost answered.
I sighed and moved to one of the tool benches, sitting down to face Ghost. "What do you care?"
Ghost snarled and looked away for a moment before turning back with a blazing stare. "My problem is that King has you sniffing around the club—which I get, he needs someone—"
"Wait, what the fuck?" I asked, a bolt of shock running through me.
Ghost rolled his eyes. "Please. You think I don't notice shit? You're spying for King. Spying on fucking Rider."
Ghost arched an eyebrow, as if to encourage me to argue the point. His head tipped as we stared at one another and his face relaxed, a faint smile curving his lips.
"You think I don't notice you, Chance?" he asked, pushing off the counter. He stepped forward, words turning low and silky. "That I just spontaneously find my way to your room at a random whim, like I'm not fucking watching and waiting for every possible opportunity to get alone with you?"
For a moment, Ghost's spell worked. He craved me, I craved him. We were a perfect and ugly pair. And then I remembered the way Faith had thrown herself into my lap, kissed me in front of the club and demanded to hear that I was hers, with Ghost sitting directly across from us, perfectly capable of overhearing her.