Page 22 of Psycho Alphas: Part One

My pretty little doll knew the truth.

I don’t know when, exactly, she’d figured it out, but she had.

Her soothing scent of frosted moonflower had switched from content to suspicious in the limo. The scent-dampening spray shouldn’t have worn off by now, but she was so dialled in… I wondered what had given me away.

I’d get it out of her, but not yet.

Right now, as I led her up the steps to my mansion, she was still pretending.

I wasn’t attached to this act of mine; it was far more about convenience than need. And I’d already got more from her than a reluctant toy would give in weeks.

I had vulnerabilities and weaknesses for Thistle Maverick that would last a lifetime.

She looked genuinely stunned as she took in the mansion, though. The place was massive, and an impressive sight, built on generations of criminal money. It had obsidian siding combinedwith rustic rich wood and expansive glass windows revealing canyon views that stretched around the property.

It had a long driveway, keeping it tucked away from the public eye, hidden between the craggy landscape, shrubbery, and a scattering of the best trees Nevada had to offer.

Within were four sprawling wings, a ballroom for the events I had to host to maintain appearances, and a basement designed for all kinds of below board activities. One of the wings was for staff quarters, currently lived in now by the crew that kept the place running. They knew I preferred to keep to myself whenever possible.

Thistle shifted incrementally closer to me as we stepped through the grand doors to the entry hall.

I led her down the hall and into the north wing. “This wing is your home. You won’t go anywhere else in the mansion without permission.”

She peered around at the ancient art pieces that I’d long become blind to. “What about to make food? Or… something?”

“Food will be made for you, and the fridge in the kitchen there stays stocked.” I pushed open one of the first doors on the left as we entered the wing, revealing the room within.

“Oh…” She looked confused, glancing around the kitchen for a few seconds before she seemed done. “Okay.”

Something about her nagged at me. Something out of place, even beyond her suspicion. She was acting nothing like she should be.

Well. No. That was a lie, but only by half.

She was nervous enough, and despair had been creeping in since she’d figured out my deception, all of which made sense for a trafficked Omega—but only half the time. I kept seeing little flickers of… something else. I wouldn’t call it confidence, but she was oddly unafraid.

I’d seen this part enough times, and for most people, having their freedom stripped away to be sold to the highest bidder was the worst day of their life. Even before her suspicion, however, the only thing that seemed to phase Thistle wererules,and the question of if I’d cuddle her—and the rules she wantedmoreof.

The last room on the right was hers, but when I pointed it out, she looked downright petrified, hugging her bunny close and refusing to step in.

“You don’t want to see it?” I asked.

She rattled the door handle, and for a moment I thought she was checking for locks, then glanced back at me.

“Where do you hang out?” she asked.

“Usually, my room or my office.”

“Can I see in your office?”

I cocked an eyebrow, getting the feeling she was stalling, and curious as to why she was nervous about claiming her bedroom.

That, I thought, would be an Omega’s first instinct.

“If you want.”

She relaxed as I led her back to the room we’d only briefly passed, and she seemed much more content as we stepped in, examining the shelves of books as I took a seat in my desk chair, pleased at her interest.

I tugged the gun I’d taken to the auction from my belt and tucked it into the top draw of my desk. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her fiddle with the Snake Plant on the windowsill, startling as a leaf tip snapped off. She stuffed it quickly into the pot, shooting a guilty glance my way.

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