Page 49 of Shaken Knot Stirred

I needed something to help me find my way out of this ridiculous place. The Pax was massive. There were different bars and lounges and dance clubs, and it was all connected behind the scenes with these super creepy hallways.

There was going to be a witch or a Minotaur at the end of this. I just knew it.

I slowed my pace as I got closer to the door. I could hear someone sniffling like they had been crying for hours and were now exhausted by it all. Then a man’s voice, shaky with emotion.

“She can’t do another heat, Beg,” the man said.

“Of course she can. Omegas were literally made for this.”

“An omega has one or two heats a year. She’s had four with rutting alphas. A fifth is not advised.”

Four? Was she sick? That voice belonged to a doctor. Had to be. It was the same voice doctors at the B.O.W. had had, authoritative and yet somehow uncaring.

“Oh, this is guilt. I get it.” There was delight in Beg’s voice. “Your knot tore up her throat and now you feel some way about it.”

The sniffling stopped, and the room descended into chilly silence. Buying time with someone to help you through heat or rut wasn’t uncommon, but it was absolutely illegal to buy a rut helper session from an omega in heat. Things often turned violent, and it was too easy to come out of it with a bond you didn’t want.

“A few spa days and she’ll be ready to go again, won’t you, Josie?”

“Of course, Beg.” Josie’s voice was dead.

A chair scraped, and I flattened myself against the wall. The door opened only wide enough for a slender woman to step through. I covered my gasp at the omega. She was stunning, straight black hair, smokey eyes, designer jeans and enormous diamonds on her ears. And an aura two steps from the grave. Omega auras undulated with energy. Her’s was flat, and it was the palest of yellows.

She barely looked at me as she made her way down the hall at a snail’s pace.

“The drugs…”

“You told me they were perfectly safe. You developed it. It’s already been through clinical trials. Our own little informal tests show they perform even better than the rut boosters you created,” said Beg.

I threw up a little in my mouth when I put it all together. Beg was forcing her into heat with drugs to service clients in rut. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead.

“I can’t keep supplying you if this…”

“Thomas, let’s get with the program here. I own you. I have enough video evidence to send you away for a very long time. Yet out of the kindness of my heart, I keep giving you what you need. I am an angel like that.”

Despite myself, I snorted out a laugh. If you had sick addictions, Begwouldbe an angel.

“Now, get the fuck out of my office.”

I heard another chair scrape, and the door was flung open. The doctor averted his eyes and refused to look at me. Guilt did, in fact, taint his aura, but it was overpowered by the swirling eddies of addiction. And this wasn’t garden variety drug addiction. It was much darker.

Beg laughed from behind his desk when he saw me standing in the doorway. Between us, on the edge of the desk, stood a line of medicine vials and syringes like the threat they were.

Chapter 27

Nico

Moxie took possession ofthe chair. She slowly hiked one foot, then the other, crossing them on Beg’s desk. The heels made a satisfying thud. She had changed into leggings and a hoodie that looked like one I used to own, and smart little ankle boots.

One of the glass vials tipped, and momentum sent it rolling. It was a slow-motion game of chicken. Moxie folded her hands and watched Beg. On the outside, he looked amused, but the whisper of emotion I could feel from him through our strangled bond told me all his psychotic rage switches were getting flipped.

Moxie and Beg shared that pathological stubbornness. They’d be a brilliant match if Beg wasn’t a psychopathic douchebag.

The bottle slowed slightly as it approached the edge, but did not stop. The Pax was built with shoddy construction. None of the floors were level. The bottle was right on the edge.

Neither blinked.

Neither of them would.

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