Page 123 of Fallen Omega

My blood and hormones scream to run to him.

It’s that bit tacked on the end that’s a killer.

I can’t face him. He wants to punish.

He killed a man.

Because of me.

With shaking fingers, I top my glass to the brim and take a deep swallow. I cough, sending the burning whiskey up my nose.

For a brief, sweet moment, all I can smell is the booze.

Shit.

I take another swallow.

Then I set the glass down and head out of the room, down the stairs to what feels like my doom.

Chapter

Twenty-Six

Dante

Where the fuck is she?

I left that dead fucker, strode across the floor of the club like I wasn’t covered in blood, like I wasn’t crazed as I am. I strode past the gaping patrons, the staff who shrank back. Past Darcy and her filthy look as she organized people with equipment I barely glanced at.

They’ll go in through the back, down the narrow walkways that connect to the private rooms. It’ll be clean and ready, and no one will be able to prove anything more than a physical fight happened in there.

In my room, I wash my face, clean off the blood from my hands. Then I pick a new outfit in harried, angry movements. Another suit in black, just to fuck with her. I hang the suit in the office near the sofa and chairs, and pour a triple whiskey, trying to ignore the fact that my dick is so fucking hard it aches.

Where the actual fuck is she?

I strip my jacket, tie, vest. I pull off the cufflinks, undo the shirt, and pace. Each step is a bite of violent intent.

The wild heat and anger, the unfurled and hungry beast within remains unfed.

The innocent fucking vixen isn’t here.

How dare she disobey? How?—

If she’s with Knight, I just might kill him, too.

I spin my computer and stab the button to bring up the feeds. But he’s upstairs. Near the bar, drinking something harder than wine, anger on his face. Right until a very rich older woman comes up to him. One he likes to have every now and then and play Daddy.

Asshole.

But his smile is fake, and he’s shaking his head. I’m so sick of him right now with those fucking dimples and curls, and the fact he fucking bit my omega, that I just might kill him, anyway.

A little.

Then there’s Reaper. Sure, I’ve known him forever, but he’s?—

But a knock sounds on the door. “In. Now.”

“Dante?” She pokes her head around the door, and I narrow my eyes.

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