Page 27 of Fired at the Heart

“A good choice.” Vince watches as Raphael inspects her. “She would provide a beautiful contrast to your current pet. And her scent profile is unique as well. Spicy, with undertones of vanilla and clove.”

Raphael leans in, inhaling at the crook of her neck, and my nails press into my palms until crescent marks bloom across my skin. The response hits hard and without warning, a sudden rush of possessiveness I have no right to claim. Raphael isn’t mine. Hasn’t been for five years. But that fact does nothing to cool the jealousy clawing its way through my chest.

As if sensing my distress, Raphael casts a look over his shoulder. Our eyes lock across the room, and the corner of his mouth lifts in a knowing smirk that begs me to slap him. He’s always been too perceptive, too attuned to my emotional states. Even now, after everything.

“Pet, come here.” He crooks a finger at me. “I want your opinion.”

I rise from the chaise, moving with deliberate grace across the polished floor. My heels click with each step, the sound amplified in the tense quiet of the room. The slit in my dress parts with each stride, offering fleeting glimpses of skin.

Vince watches my approach with undisguised interest. “Your pet moves beautifully. Such natural grace. Was he trained before you acquired him?”

“He came to me with many talents.” Raphael bites his bottom lip as I approach. “Some more surprising than others.”

When I reach them, Raphael extends his hand. I take it, allowing him to pull me close to his side. His scent envelops me, and my body recognizes him on a molecular level. It’s infuriating how I respond to his pheromones, even after all this time, a quickening pulse, a subtle shift in my own scent that he can detect.

“What do you think?” Raphael gestures at the woman before us. “Is she to your liking?”

I study her, searching for signs of her true condition beneath the staged presentation. Unlike many of the others, she doesn’t appear drugged, and there are no obvious injection marks on her visible skin. Well-fed, though lean. A recent acquisition, most likely.

“She’s lovely.” I shrug with disinterest. “But I’m not sure she’s what we’re searching for.”

Displeasure tightens Vince’s features. “Your pet is picky.”

Raphael lets out an indulgent chuckle and cups my cheek as he answers Vince. “It’s worth it to indulge him. When he’s happy, his gratitude is highly satisfying.”

Vince accepts the excuse with a slight tilt of his head, though his gaze remains calculating. “Perhaps it would be better to let him play, then, while we discuss business.”

Raphael’s hand drops to palm my ass, tugging me flush to his front. “Would you like that, pet?”

I rub myself against him. “Yes, please, Alpha.”

His head dips. “Ask properly.”

My arms lift to wind around his neck, and I rise onto my toes to press our lips together. I intend to keep the kiss chaste, but Raphael has other ideas, his hand cupping the back of my head as his tongue sweeps along the seam of my lips, demanding entry.

With our audience watching, I have no choice but to open to him, and his wet heat invades my mouth, filthy and all-consuming as he lays claim to every nook and cranny. He tastes like home, likemy Alpha, and a needy whimper escapes as I melt into his embrace, giving myself over.

A satisfied rumble rises from his chest as he lifts his head and wipes the dampness from my lips with his thumb. “Go on, then. See if you like any of the ones here.”

It takes longer than I’d like to collect my wits and step back from him, which only enhances the believability of the act.

I turn to the Omega with purple irises, giving him a cursory once-over while he stares ahead, unseeing. I’ve heard the rumors about genetic mods, but seeing one in the flesh twists my stomach.

I move to the next Omega, repeating the performance, trying to distance myself from the horrors these people have been put through. Behind me, Raphael keeps Vince talking, tossing out questions about stock rotation and acquisition like he’s discussing wine, not people. His manner remains calm, even affable, as though trading humans is no different than managing any other inventory.

I’m almost done with the room when the auburn-haired woman catches my attention again, the clarity in her expression out of place here.

I lean in as if examining her features, my back to Vince. “Jade Bustley. Blond hair, dark roots. Blue eyes. Have you seen him?”

Her focus shifts toward the Alphas before she gives the smallest shake of her head. Then, so quietly I almost miss it, “They separate the ones who fight.”

My pulse quickens. Information. “Where?”

Before she can answer, Raphael steps in behind me, his hand coming around to splay over my stomach. “Found something you like, pet?”

I straighten and turn to him with a pout. “They’re nice, but not quite what I had in mind.”

Raphael’s hand slides up from my stomach to just below my chest, his thumb tracing the underside of my rib cage. The touch is proprietary, designed to showcase his control over me, but it’s also achingly familiar, stirring memories of countless nights when those same hands mapped every inch of my skin.

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