Page 96 of Fallen Omega

The devil gives me a nasty, feral smile that makes my needy insides quiver. Whether I hate him or not, I want him. More and more with every passing minute.

Never in my life could I have imagined wanting three men in different, sexual ways with the same intensity.

I take off my black apron and wrap the toy up in it and put it on the bar.

“What do you say?” he asks.

The wordsfuck youcome to mind, but the insult’s exactly what I want to do to him so I don’t answer. Luckily, I’m saved by the buzz of his phone. He snatches it up and presses the answer icon as he stands.

“Talk,” he says as he walks out of the bar area.

Shit. He’s trouble. The devil’s always trouble. Charming and desirable in ways he shouldn’t be.

To slow down my racing thoughts that like to tie themselves in knots, I think about my situation.

I haven’t left here. Yet. I know they have a place elsewhere, but I’m never left here alone, and there’s even a kitchenette down on the third floor.

They’re here at night and there’s something both thrilling and comforting about one of the alphas or even all three staying in the building until the sun rises.

Reaper told me they’re preparing a place for me at their main residence. But it’s safer here for now.

Safer, I’m guessing, and easier for Dante.

When I finish the glasses, I start to wipe the bar and then the tables.

It’s not until I turn that I realize I was singing because my voice stops.

Dante stands there again, statue still, staring at me. His eyes are wide in disbelief.

“Oh, fuck me,” he breathes. “You sound like an angel. Why didn’t you tell me you could sing like that?”

“You said you knew.” I shrug. “I didn’t think it mattered. Does it? Should I stop?”

“No.”

The ‘no’ sends everything into a flurry. Does he mean it doesn’t matter or that he doesn’t want me to stop singing? Hisexpression is no help. It reminds me of the blankest look of Reaper’s. Except…I think I understand his, the ones I’ve read. But Dante’s?

It’s there to turn me away from whatever he is or isn’t feeling. So, I can’t get a handle on it, and worse, control over my own emotions slips away. It feels as if I’m pinned to the spot, just like I would be with his hand wrapped around my throat, holding me there.

“I’m not that good,” I say, suddenly nervous. “Nothing Grammy worthy.”

He continues to look at me, the pressure of this endless moment rising, and my stomach flips.

Then it ends as Julien appears and catches his attention. “What?

“I need you, Dante.”

He nods, gives me one last look, before crossing to Julien. For a moment, I thought I saw a flash of something, like warmth in his gaze, along with the surprise, but I probably imagined it. And I remind myself not to soften towards him, that I hate him.

I throw myself into work.

I’m about to start setting out candles for tonight when suddenly my senses prick all over. Dante’s there, hovering close and staring at me, a frown on his face. “Go downstairs. Now.”

“But—”

“Now.”

I start for the stairs, disappearing just as voices reach me. He’s talking to someone, and I want to stay, listen.

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