Page 109 of Fallen Omega

Chapter

Twenty-Three

Dante

No one’s touched her.

In the past fucking week since I got her the damned drugs, no one’s touched her.

Instead, we circle around her, sexually charged buzzards, waiting for her to crumble down so we can pick and suck at her bones.

It’s not pretty imagery, I decide, but apt.

“Stop wiggling your fucking ass.” I glare at what might be one of the finest asses, high and rounded, small but hand sized, fun and perfection.

Lizette twirls to face me, long, dark hair whipping out, and I’m fucking regretting the insistence of her in a ponytail.

“Fuck, I’m old.” That fucking ass wiggle slides into my blood, pumping to areas I don’t want blood pumped to. Shit. And she looks young like that. Too young. “Not to mention perverted.”

Her being only twenty-one makes me a pervert, that’s for sure. And?—

“Darcy.”

The snap of her name fails to make the blonde leap to my side. I glare at her, but she just gives me herfuck youlook, the one that’s pretty much telling me she’s on the fucking ball with my mood, and I should handle it myself.

Honestly, I briefly fantasize about tossing her out of the pack, but Darcy’s beyond vital.

Still. I am one of the alphas. I’m motherfucking Dante. “Darcy.”

With a sigh, she stomps over. “You do know we’re down two girls. One’s sick and the other’s a lazy bitch who, if she doesn’t decide who the better place of employment is, will find herself out of a job.”

“Fire her ass?—”

“I will if I can’t sort it tomorrow, big boss man” —she’s pushing it— “but…” Darcy, swipes on her tablet. “Emma’s good.” She goes back to Sierra and the logistics of tonight.

“Lizette,” I growl. Because the hot little number’s wiggling more. And the worst thing is? I think she’s actively trying not to.

What the fuck did I do to deserve to be landed with a naïve omega?

“What did I do now?” Lizette asks. “Other than having an ass and walking.”

“Stop it.”

She stomps over to me, tray in hand, and she puts one of her fists on her boy-short clad hip, the halter showing off way too much cleavage and pale belly. “I have to walk, Dante,” she says. “It’s part of the job.”

“Go back to doing the bussing.”

“I don’t want to do the bussing.”

I’d stand, but she makes things hard. I cross my legs and thrum my fingers against the table. My tablet sits there, and I’ve got work to do but this…I need to fucking deal with her.

Lizette, the angel from either heaven or hell.

“Last time I checked, I’m the fucking boss.”

Her cheeks flame, and I know she’ll be a prize for the men who come here. A prize they can’t touch. One they’ll beat off about and for some reason, it makes it just as bad. It makes me want to rip them to pieces.

“Three bosses.” She holds up three fingers.

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