Page 59 of Fallen Omega

I nod. “And apart from magic?”

His expression’s dark. “I think maybe we look into who’s in his pack, and any connections with the Council. When Reaper talks, it’s worth it to fucking listen.” He taps a hand on the wall as he starts to turn to go. “And keep an eye on that Jake person if you can. And Ghost.”

Hours later, I crack my neck, mind wandering back to the meeting.

And Ghost.

The name fucking haunts me, and I don’t even know him. He was before my time. All I know is, he and Dante used to be close. He betrayed Dante and now he’s the enemy. I won’t say he’s the only one, but he’s up there near that prime spot.

I work for a few more hours and when I’m done, with lots of nothing’s, maybe’s, and could be’s in all the areas Dante asked me to look at. I don’t know if we’re near any kind of answer.

Except both Dante and Reaper are right. Something’s up.

I just don’t know what.

Upstairs, on the club floor, I get a glass of red wine. There’s a girl catering to the patrons, scantily clad, a beta who’s fucking more than hot, one I’ve had call me Sir before. I don’t have them play at calling me Daddy if they work here, but she’s so fucking pretty. The perfect good girl. Blonde and blue eyed, full of trust and a natural sub who’s a freak in bed.

I prefer that dynamic to straight up Sub and Master. I like the softness, the ability to indulge in praise kink. I like to shower a girl in gifts, or turn stern in a loving way.

Not that I love any of them.

It’s a game.

Role play.

I like it because I’m not the idea of a Daddy Dom. It turns shit on its head. And it gets me all sorts of women who want to play. My favorites are the older women. Having them crumble down into trusting me with everything is a power trip that’s orgasmic on its own.

Lizette was…unexpected.

She fits it, but it’s her, not a game, and I don’t tend to play with actual innocents.

I stop eyeing Cora as she gives a lap dance in the corner to her customer. It’s not forbidden, it’s not required. We just draw the line at the guys touching. Or fucking our girls.

When the burlesque dancer comes on, I go back down to our private floor.

Something’s moving low through my blood.

Like a hunger, a need, a disturbance in my own personal equilibrium.

It’s not until I find myself, glass in hand, outside the door where a sweet and seductive spell flavored with rich and complex gardenias seep through.

Fuck.

Darcy left the key in the lock.

Double fuck.

“Move away, dude,” I tell myself.

Instead, like it’s totally autonomous from me, my hand turns that key, then the handle, and I push the door open.

I close it just as a boot sails close to my head, hitting the wood with a thump.

“You.”

Well, she’s definitely not in heat now. Her hair’s damp and she’s got on…I don’t know what the fuck she has on. It’s too tight, too short and it looks fucking spectacular. Shit. My body pulses in response to her.

More than it should.

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