Page 168 of Altius
Owen’s purr deepened—sonorous and expansive. “Tell me, omega.”
His purr seemed to have exposed all the moth-eaten patches in my soul. As I exhaled, it pulled on the loose threads, unraveling my control even further. My head drifted to the left, baring the side of my throat.
“I want revenge. To make Garvey suffer as I have suffered. For anyone who risked the players’ safety to never know anotherday’s peace. Only constant, bone-deep pain.” A film of tears obscured my vision, but Owen’s gaze still held me transfixed. “To live half a life, sucking the joy and vibrancy out of everyone that loves them. To be a burden.”
My breath hitched, turning my voice brittle.
“I want tobreakthem.”
Owen’s head dipped lower, pressing his cheek against my throat, and he whispered, “Good girl.”
The slow drag of his smooth jaw along the bare expanse of my neck made me tremble.
My logical mind wanted to rebel, to question what he was doing—but my omega was in control, responding to a powerful alpha that could crush our enemies with a single flick of an elegant finger.
Pulling back, Owen looked a touch dazed, as if he was as unnerved by the instinctual pull between us as I was.
He cleared his throat, and the pressure of his grip receded, becoming more of a reassuring presence than a display of dominance.
“Anya said the university is willing to compensate you handsomely. Your brother-in-law handled your gymnastics settlement?”
“Yes.”
“Then I suggest you tell him to extort Northport for all it’s worth.”
Dazed, I blindly reached for something to steady myself, my fingers latching onto the smooth leather of his belt. “I hate money. It doesn’t fix anything.”
“True. But it does buy you buildings with outstanding neighbors,” Owen teased—actually teased. “And you’ve used your settlement to better the lives of countless numbers of people.”
Inspiration hit all at once, knocking my head back onto its proper axis. Fisting Owen’s shirt with both hands, I let excitement wash away my lingering anger.
“You know what? You’re right. And I just had a great idea.”
The settlement money would go to Brizo House, with a sizeable chunk earmarked to benefit children in foster care. I couldn’t wait to pick Alijah’s brain for ideas—during a dinner date?
That could be our weekly ritual.
Nice, slow, and delicious, leaving plenty of time for Joaquin and the others.
“Good,” Owen said. “Let Quinton bleed them dry while Cal and I handle the bureaucratic nonsense. You focus on being your typical brilliant self, Dr. Van Daal.”
His hand fell away, leaving me unmoored.
I tipped forward, causing the side of his mouth to accidentally brush mine. The contact was so fleeting, it didn’t qualify as a kiss—but it still happened.
Owen took a large step back. His sharp gaze was equally bewildered and offended, which he tried to hide by straightening his glasses.
I’d unsettled Owen Redmond—and I liked it.
The temptation to pull him back down to finish the job was strong, but the vibration of my phone interrupted the moment.
Quinton was calling.
“Sorry about that,” I said as I answered. “Just needed a minute to process.”
“How do you want to proceed?” Quinton asked.
Holding Owen’s gaze, he gave me a slight nod of encouragement.
