Page 68 of Storm
The penthouse is quiet as I pad down the hallway, the morning sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I make my way to the kitchen, hoping to grab the pills and get back to my room before encountering any of the alphas.
No such luck.
Reed stands at the kitchen counter, one hand wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee, the other gripping the edge of the marble so tightly his knuckles are white. He looks up as I enter, his nostrils flaring as he takes in my scent, and more importantly, Rook's scent all over me.
His eyes narrow, stormy blue, darkening to almost black. "Where is he?" The question comes out as more of a growl than words.
"Good morning to you too," I say, scanning the counter for my pill bottles. I spot them near the sink and move toward them, trying to act casual despite the tension crackling in the air.
Reed steps into my path, his tall frame blocking my access to the medications. "I asked you a question."
"And I ignored it," I reply, lifting my chin. "He's in the shower, if you must know. Alone," I add pointedly.
"I told him not to touch you," Reed says, his voice low and dangerous. "I made that very clear."
I roll my eyes, trying to sidestep him. "We didn't do anything."
"Your scent says otherwise," he challenges, not budging. "You reek of him. And arousal."
Heat flushes my cheeks, but I refuse to back down. "He's being a perfect gentleman, which is more than I can say forsomeof the alphas in this penthouse."
"He was explicitly warned," Reed continues as if I hadn't spoken. "No inappropriate touching. We had an agreement."
Something in me snaps at his presumption—the idea that he gets to dictate what happens between me and Rook, that my body is somehow under his power.
"He didn't touch me with his dick, if that's what you're worried about," I say sweetly, watching his expression darken. "Does that count?"
The coffee mug in Reed's hand cracks, dark liquid spilling over his fingers. He doesn't seem to notice.
"I'm going to kill him," he says matter-of-factly, setting the broken mug down and turning toward the hallway.
I grab his arm without thinking, my fingers barely circling his wrist. "Touch him, and I'll tell the father’s and everyone in the restaurant tonight that wants to listen, how this omega rigged the draw, and got herself this pack."
Reed freezes, his eyes locked on my hand touching him, before slowly rising to my face.
"I'll tell them how all the omegas have been rigging the draws to win who they wanted," I continue, releasing his arm but standing my ground. "How it's been happening for as long as anyone knows. How the entire system is a sham."
"You wouldn't," he says, but there's a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.
"Try me," I challenge. "Threaten Rook again, and I'll burn the whole thing down. Wouldn't that be fun to watch?"
Reed's jaw tightens, a muscle jumping beneath his skin. He's furious. I can smell it in his scent, like the air before a lightning strike. But there's something else there too, something I don't quite understand. Something almost like...jealousy?
"You have no idea what you're playing with," he says, his voice deadly quiet. "No idea what's at stake."
"Then enlighten me," I fire back. "Because from where I'm standing, all I see is an alpha having a tantrum, because he's not getting his way."
Something shifts in Reed's expression, a flash of emotion so raw it makes me take a step back. But it's gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by cold fury.
Without another word, he pushes past me, stalking down the hallway to his room. The door slams with enough force to rattle the artwork on the walls.
I stand there, heart racing, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I've pushed him too far, I know that. But I won't let him threaten Rook. I won't let any of them come between us again.
"That wasn't smart," a quiet voice says from behind me.
I whirl around to find Alexander and Frankie sitting at the dining table, both watching me with concerned expressions. I hadn't even noticed them there. I swear. Why are they always lurking there when Reed is in the kitchen with me?
"How long have you been sitting there?" I demand, embarrassed to have had an audience for that confrontation.
