Page 169 of Psycho Alphas: Part One

It was worse than death.

Bella stepped up to me, tips of her fingers brushing my cheek. “If you want her to live, you know what I want.”

The walls of this cage were closing in, but I needed time. “I’ll go with you.”

“Slow down, lover,” she drawled. “First, I’d like you on your knees.”

Horror settled over me like a frigid blanket of snow, turning the rest of the world silent.

Bella took a step back, sinking into the seat, expectant jade eyes fixed on me.

I didn’t move for an age, as if my bones were locked in place. All it took was one glance from Bella, from me to Thistle, and I stumbled forward, knees crashing into the hard marble.

This was it.

I could barely believe that only an hour ago, the worst thing I could imagine was being in a pack with Rogue.

An offer to bite Thistle—the Omega who’d given me something I never thought I’d see again.

And I’d pushed her away.

No.

I swallowed.

It wasgood. If that had been my bite on her neck, she would be dead already. At least now, she had a chance.

In a wild moment, I realised that somehow, impossibly, that alone was something precious. For the first time since I’d put a bullet in my brother’s head, I’d found a way to love someone.

“It’s a bit of a hierarchy in the pack,” Bella told me. “Where do you think you deserve a bite?” I blinked, trying to focus on the nightmare before me, not daring to look at the other Omega in this room.

I… loved her…?

It was strange, and relieving and terrifying at the same time.

Bella’s skin glowed, smooth and gold. She was a picture of perfection, and yet for me, that beauty was as empty as her heart.

Her body was a canvas of bites. From neck, to arms, and I could see two on her leg, and one even down at her ankle.

I tried to focus, but it was almost impossible as frosted moonflower crept into my consciousness. Primal. Desperate. Terrified.

I had to find the strength for this.

For her.

Bella’s fingers closed sharply around my chin, and she squeezed, her voice mocking. “I’ll have a riot on my hands if I let you mark my neck after you’ve been such a bad boy.”

She slipped her silver sandals off, offering her foot to me.

“Well?”

My tremor vibrated bone deep as I leaned forward, trying to hold on to the last traces of moonflower while drowning in Absinthe.

My teeth grazed her smooth, golden skin, and I tried not to throw up.

Somewhere, in my consciousness, I heard Thistle’s whine. It was punctuated with distress.

I clung to that, let it obliterate the voice screaming that I couldn’t do this.

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