Page 67 of Fallen Omega

She’s angry but she managed to pull reason out of the hat. Because it is reason.

If we hadn’t thought of this already.

If the call hadn’t gone through today with Darcy pretending to be her.

The appointment’s been pushed back.

I watch the latest girl. She’s okay. In looks and demeanor, she fits the part. She’ll make a great waitress down here. Some of the girls will be topless waitresses at private events, but that’s up to them. Whatever… She’ll be scantily clad and make money. Not as much as performing on the stage, but money.

And she’s what the punters want.

“If I’d known you were that anxious to register and be onyour way to your new handpicked-by-the-fucking-council mate, I’d have driven you myself.” I pick up my coffee and take a sip. “We can go now.”

“I just want to go home.” She drags in a breath, fingers worrying at the too-tight top she’s got on.

Dark colors suit her. Tight and body revealing is a honey pot. It’s a distraction. A thing to stir desire.

She needs to wear layers. Baggy, long fucking dresses. The baggier the better.

Yeah, and that’ll do fucking nothing.

Her appeal is more than tight clothes and curves that caress a man. It’s fuckingher.

God, I’d love to send her far away and forget her, but with the mark, which could lead others right to us…I don’t fucking think so.

“Do you know what we saved you from?” I ask.

“Knight saved me.” She crosses her arms. “From a bad situation and I’m thankful. But I want to go home.”

Broken fucking record.

I’m about to taunt her, rile her, offer her a choice, when I catch movement near the door.

Reaper comes in and goes to the blackest corner of the bar. The bartender stops stocktaking and serves him.

I glance at Lizette, and her gaze is glued to him, cheeks flushed, and her pulse throbbing.

Then she meets my gaze, and it throbs harder, that pulse. “Is that?—”

“You’re not staying, not your business.”

She frowns as her cheeks redden. Fuck, it’s hot. I stand, crowding her.

“What do you want from me?” she asks breathlessly.

Oh, so many things…

Do we send her away, stick to plan A and let her go and make it so she has no choice but to choose to come back into our fold—until we can fix the problem withKnight’s nibble mark—of her own free will? Yes.

In her mind, it’s free will and her choice.

We’ll make it so we’re her only option.

“Nothing really. I’m busy enough. Shipments, bars and establishments to run.” I move a hand through the air. “Clubs. The Council and structured fucking society to tumble. Fortunes and power to take as ours. We’re busy men. We’re a busy and productive pack. You…you’re a pain in the fucking ass. Just rust on the gears, not oil.”

“That’s a lot of metaphor.”

“Think of it as a hobby.” I lean in. “So, little omega, are you going to stay and see if we can remove Knight’s mark, or do you want to explain it to your geriatric mate-to-be? Those are your choices. Pick one.”

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