Page 156 of Fallen Omega

I can’t trail his scent, only catching whiffs, but other things bombard me.

Being out after just seeing him kill someone, after blowing him not far from the body, is insane.

Worse, if there’s a worse, I’m out in the world when these alphas think it’s best to lock me up to protect me from it. So I don’t get given to some horrible old man, or raped, or?—

Why else have I only been allowed to work on the “members only” floor? I’m sure it’s not members only, I don’t think it’s that kind of place, but no one gets in without being vetted. And I haven’t even seen their real pack house. Or mansion or whatever it is. I’ve seen a couple of places which they own or use and?—

I gasp, to the right, I catch a glimpse of Reaper. A blur of black. A scarred angel disappearing into a bar that spills loud rock into the night.

Making a beeline, I talk my way past a bored bouncer. It’s early enough that they want bodies, but I’m a girl and I’m fast learning that being female and moderately attractive is a superpower.

It’s dark inside and I look around as lights sweep the bar.

I don’t see him, but there are little pools of people and big open spaces. Dark corners in which to hide, and everyone has a drink. They’re happy hour drinks, and this must be happy hour. I peel off one of the notes in my pocket, horrified it’s a fifty, but I put it down as I order a drink. The bartender’s eyes almost pop out, but he reaches for the top shelf and shoves the whiskey at me.

Taking it, I pretend to relax, nodding in time to the music from the band on the stage. I don’t like it, the beat’s too heavy and the rest too thrashy and chaotic.

A couple of men come up but I sidestep them. I don’t even have time to tell them to go away as I search for Reaper.

I know he came in here. I know it.

I saw him.

Right?

He’s a hard man to miss. So why the hell can’t I see him now?

Eyes follow me, burning into me, and I catch his scent, the tobacco, rum and oak moss, the smoke and roses. The sex of him, dark, deadly.

But every time I turn, he isn’t there.

He’s as much of a ghost as that man I met for the second time on my date with Knight.

A helplessness comes over me, but I shake it off.

Maybe Reaper came in here and left.

Or—

I stop.

I’m being felt up. Not by touch, there’s no one near me, but everywhere the watcher looks, I can feel on my skin, and it sends my body into overload.

This time when I turn, I do it slowly. Because I know who it is.

Reaper’s leaning against the wall just behind me, a feral smile in place and my heart beats hard.

I don’t know who just caught who.

He gestures to me, an arrogant little motion that’s all gloating hunter, and I throw the contents of the drink at him, missing completely. Then I turn on my heel and run, right to the exit sign on the far side. The door’s open for smokers and I race out, almost knocking a man down but I dart around him and towards the shut gate at the end. It’s chained, but I manage to squeeze through the sizable gap, and when I turn left, racing toward the street in the alley, a strong hand grabs me.

It’s not Reaper. The man slams a hand over my mouth as I start to scream, and I kick back, trying to hurt him as I wriggle and vie for freedom.

I bite his hand. Hard.

“Cunt.” At first I think it’s Jake. He throws me down where I skitter on the ground, skinning my hands and knees. The burn races up my legs and arms. “Don’t get up.”

“Fuck you.”

---