Page 43 of Savage Trap

Breakfast out makes sense. We both need fresh air and space. But it still hurts my heart to leave the hotel without the rest of our pack.

We walk randomly for a while, Link massaging his knuckles as I try to clear my head with the crisp morning air. But the tension twisting through him makes me stumble, and he curses under his breath, steering me into the nearest coffee shop.

I stare at him with wide eyes as he ignores the smiling server and nudges me into a booth. Climbing in behind me, he pulls me into his lap, even though there’s enough room for six, and buries his face against my neck. The server wisely drops the menus on the table and retreats, although she fans her face as she heads to get our coffee.

I twist on his lap until I’m sitting sideways, even though the table edge is digging into my ribs. My beautiful man blinks down at me, a kaleidoscope of emotions swimming in his dark eyes. “Tell me what’s going on, babe. Did you get into a fight last night?”

He jerks and frowns, now dark as a thunderstorm. “Is that what Elvana called it?”

I blink, trying to piece the clues together. Link is a complex man, and even with a mating bond, I don’t always know what he’s thinking. “I meant after you left the hotel. You were gone a while,” I say gently and reach up to trace a bruise on his cheek. “And someone hurt you. Can you tell me what happened?”

Link’s frown deepens, but there’s a touch of confusion there, too. Like he can’t quite put the pieces together himself. “It was nothing,” he says finally, kissing my palm then dropping my hand. “What do you want to eat?”

He knows, of course, and when the server returns, I bite my lip as he gives our order. It’s cute watching him describe the color of my toast and the firmness of my eggs like they’re going to be building a bomb in the kitchen instead of breakfast. But the server is a good sort, even giving me a sly wink as she departs. While we sip our coffee, Link is back to scowling at the tabletop, his breath a huff against my neck.

“I really need to go shopping today,” I announce in my cheeriest voice. “I know it’s probably the last thing you want to do…”

“I’m coming.” He twists his fingers in my hair, arching my neck so he has easy access to his bite. I know other patrons are looking my way, but I can’t help melting into his lap when he runs his tongue over the scar. “They better feed me before I take another bite out of you, though,” he mutters.

I laugh, startled. Link isn’t known for his jokes, but I can feel some of that restlessness settle under his skin as he focuses on my bite. I purr and press closer, shamelessly encouraging him as he licks and nuzzles our bond. He only stops when my toes are numb and the server has cleared her throat three times to bring me back to earth.

After leaving her a huge tip and a wink of my own, we head back out to the street, Link wrapped around me like a bulletproof jacket. When he’s in this mood, he’s the perfect blend of affectionate and possessive, glaring at any alpha who looks at me a moment too long. Not that I get the kind of attention our angel attracts when she’s out and about. Which gives me an idea, and after checking my phone, I lead him a couple of blocks over. As he takes in the display in the window, heat flares in his eyes and I grin.

I’m pleased to see a friendly-looking beta waiting inside, his brows twitching with appreciation as he takes us in. “Hello, gentlemen. My name’s Curtis. Feel free to browse, or I can offer you a full fitting.” He gestures to the curtained booths at the back of the store. “You can take your pick.”

I laugh at the way Link’s hand twitches towards his gun holster. “We’ll be fine,” I tell Curtis. “But we might need some help with sizing.”

“For yourself?” His eyes drag over me, then flick to Link. “We have couples’ sets.”

I laugh again, trying to imagine Link in any of the lacy, silky things hanging on the racks. But Curtis gives me a knowing look and steps back to open a door I assumed was for storage. Inside is a rack of black leather that has my dick hard in a heartbeat. “Like I said, every couple is accommodated here.” He pulls out a hanger with an arrangement of black straps and buckles, all connected to a pair of studded leather shorts. “We call this our apocalyptic range. It’s the perfect accessory for the gentleman who’s partial to firearms.”

Link grunts, and I expect him to tell Curtis to take a hike. But when I glance his way, he’s giving the hanger a curious look.

I snatch it off Curtis with a smile. “And something a little frillier for me?”

A possessive snarl leaves Link’s lips, but Curtis just gives me a professional once over. “Oh, yes. I’m thinking our whiskey and lace range for you, given your size and coloring.” He leads us across the room to a towering display of gold and rust-toned undergarments. They’re silky but edgy, not feminine as much as sensuous, with everything from crystals to barbells woven into the fabric. “It’s about the feel as well as the look with this designer,” he tells us, trailing a finger over the studded crotch in a pair of high-cut lace panties. “Every time you move, you’re reminded of exactly what you’re wearing.”

I catch a smoldering glance from Link and bite back a grin. “Let’s start here, then.”

Curtis gives a satisfied nod, grabbing a bunch of other items from the display before leading us back to a fitting room. It’s spacious, with a leather sofa against the wall and a little dais with mirrors on every side. “You’ll have complete privacy,” he tells us, showing me how to secure the drapes to the walls. “But if you need any assistance…”

He leaves the offer hanging, but when Link curls his lip, Curtis shrugs good-naturedly. “Can’t blame me for trying. Enjoy, and press the button there if you want a few more selections.”

I look at the mountain of garments in my arms, then take my phone from my pocket. “Can you also grab me a few things to suit her?” I flash a picture of Elvi in her pajamas, stealing a piece of bacon off my plate. She’s laughing, and the sunlight streaming through the cabin window turns her silver hair into a flaming halo.

“What an angel,” Curtis says, patting his heart. “It’ll be my pleasure. Maybe silver to your bronze?”

I nod and while he buzzes around the store, I secure the curtain and turn back to Link. He’s sprawled on the couch, the bulge in his jeans enough to make my mouth go dry. But I pluck the first garment from the pile and hold it up, admiring it from every angle. “This is pretty.”

Link groans, palming his crotch. “Give me the full fitting, baby. I want to see it all.”

I shiver as I step forward and grab his hand, hooking the hanger off his finger. Heat flares in his eyes as I retreat to the dais and flick the button of my jeans. I’m a dancer by nature more than training, but I know how to move my body. I’ve stripped for him before, but usually as a prelude to sex, and anticipation sizzles through my blood. When I’m down to my underwear – a pair of plain black boxer briefs – I pause and nibble on the edge of my lip. The silky scrap hanging off his finger is a completely different look. “This isn’t going to be weird?”

As much as I love my body and I’m comfortable in my skin, my designation can still mess with my head. I was born to be an alpha, and until I presented, omegas were the pretty little jewels I might one day get to wear in my crown. I’m embarrassed to admit it now, but I really was that much of a dick. But then my body betrayed me – both in my eyes and my father’s – and I had to come to terms with the fact I was now the prize instead of the prince.

But some part of me is still that muscular, rugby-playing boy who thought he was going to rule the world.

And what does Link see when he looks at me? A peer, or a pretty prize?

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