Page 3 of Mercy & Her Devils

Being separated from my twin has been hell, but Thomas is still the only Alpha who I’ve been allowed to see for a year.

And it’s wrecked me.

Hurriedly, Thomas places down the mug on the mahogany coffee table that stands in front of the couch. “I won’t break your favorite mug, Mercy. After all, you’ll never manage to smuggle anything into the house as rebellious as this again. And I live for drinking tea in the uptight Sheriff’s lounge from something with a cheeky BITE ME logo.”

I swipe at my tears. “You bought me that mug.”

“Bite me.” Thomas arches his brow.

Then he nuzzles closer to me, swiping his fingers just above mine.

Yet he’s careful not to touch me.

His familiar scent of sugar cookie martini washes over me.

I can’t help leaning closer to Thomas because he’s boosting his pheromones into the lounge now to try to soothe my tears. He always did that, when we were younger.

Fletcher has tried to use his pheromones in the same way.

But it never works.

Suddenly, I realize that I’m leaning dangerously close to Thomas.

I jolt away just in time.

I’m not going to risk him getting in trouble for me again.

“You can’t be scent and touch starved any longer.” Thomas lets out a frustrated breath. “I don’t care what happens to me. If you need to nuzzle me or if a hug would help, then—”

“No,” I say, sharply. “I’m fine.”

I’m not.

But just because I’m an Omega — and Fletcher has given me a book of over one hundred pack household rules to live by — doesn’t mean that I’m going to fail to protect my family.

Thomas clenches his hands into fists. “The Sheriff’s a possessive knothead. Plus, he doesn’t mean it about breaking your bond. He’s trying to scare you and probably, me too. He knew that we were meeting today. He knew that you’d tell me. He only allows us to see each other once a week, after I—”

“Threatened to tear out everybody’s throat in a rampage that’d take down both Dad’s pack and Fletcher’s reputation…?”

Thomas returns my smirk. “No one should try to separate the Saint twins. That’s why the packs made sure the matching happened, when I’d been safely sent to the Alpha Centre for retraining.”

My guts churn. I feel like hurling.

Thomas will never tell me what he suffered in a center that conditions Alphas who are criminals, not acting dynamically appropriately, or are simply being punished by their packs.

That Thomas was sent there on a Course for Bad Alphas simply in order to make sure that he didn’t intervene with my bonding to the Sheriff, hurts my heart.

Yet my brother still feels guilty that he didn’t save me.

My gaze settles on the neat piles of brochures and leaflets for the Omega Institute.

My heart rate speeds up, and I take a deep breath of Thomas’ scent to try and stop my sudden, desperate trembling.

All of the brochures are in luxury gold with the Institute’s symbol: the Greek symbol for Omega, encircled by gold, as if the Institute is caging or controlling the Omega even through its logo.

I can’t look away.

The options are emblazoned over the front: Weekend Refresher Course, Short Sharp Correctional Course, Summer Long Retraining, Alpha Dominance and Discipline Diploma, and Reauctioning Options…

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