Page 37 of Psycho Alphas: Part Two
“Your eyes are really pretty,” the girl added.
Thistle gave a strange laugh, taking a step back. Then she almost tripped over her own feet as she hurried back to me.
As they walked away, I heard the girl say, “I want to be an Omega like her when I grow up.”
Thistle said nothing, though her cheeks were bright pink, and I kept catching her glancing back as we walked away.
We found an aisle of photo booths next, and I managed—with immense difficulty—to cram my frame into a tiny booth with her. It was hard not to feel awkward, smiling into the camera for the first set of flashes. Thistle was clambering out the moment it was done to grab the photo strip.
I leaned back in the seat, resting my head against the booth behind me, something unsettled in my chest. I heard her happylittle squeal, and she was tugging the curtains back and thrusting the strip of paper into my hands.
“It’sus!”
I looked down at it, eyes narrowed. Thistle looked happy in the photos, but there I was. I wasn’t just odd looking because my face was covered with bruises, and a half-healed pink cut peeked from the side of my neck from slicing the muzzle off with a knife—though I had been drawing odd stares for all those things. The problem was how I just stared at the camera awkwardly, clearly unsure what to do with myself.
“Again,” I grunted, tugging another ticket from my pocket.
I was her Alpha. Like… a boyfriend, but way more important. I dug around in the empty cavern that was my mind, trying to find a person in there somewhere. Not the person I was before, but not… whatever shell I’d become.
I didn’t know who he was, so I just followed my instincts as the countdown ended.
I clambered out with her this time, curious. She was flustered as she fumbled the pictures from the booth, and her eyes were shining as she examined them. I craned my neck down, scanning them.
Muchbetter.
The first picture was Thistle smiling as I looked down at her. The next, I’d grabbed her hair, tilted her head back to look at me, and in the third my teeth were at her neck.
I reached out, mostly to get a closer look, pride swelling in my chest, but Thistle tugged them away from me with a growl.
Her frame was tense, even as she cleared her throat as if to pretend the growl hadn’t been real. She slowly and stiffly offered the photos to me, cheeks bright red.
Ignoring them, I lifted her by her waist instead, pinning her to the photo booth and kissing her. Her legs tangled around mywaist, and her fingers wove through my hair as she kissed me back, matching me for passion.
I pulled back at last, getting lost in the violet eyes that held mine in wonder. “I’m really glad you’re not gonna die,” she whispered, breathless.
I chuckled, setting her down. “Yeah. Me too.” The words came out before I thought about it, and surprisingly, I felt they were simple and true…Wasn’t expecting that.
To my delight, I caught her stuffing the photos into her bra, which I hoped was Thistle-code for nesting.
Despite the excited squeal she’d let out when I’d suggested it, taking Thistle into the haunted mansion was, as it turned out, a bad plan.
She became increasingly tense as we walked through the different rooms. I began to wonder from her death grip on my arm, if she was perhaps taking it all a bit too seriously. My fears turned out to be accurate when one of the actors tried to jump-scare me near the end. She let out a hiss and launched at him with murder in her eyes.
“Don’t you touch my Alpha!”she snarled.
Low-key ready for something to snap, I’d managed to catch her before she got to him. I had to carry her the rest of the way out, crushed against my chest as growls shuddered from her with every exhale.
By the time I’d hauled her onto my lap with a basket of corn dogs and chips on a bench on the opposite side of the fair, she’d settled, and was even looking a little sheepish.
She wrinkled her nose. “Sorry.”
“For what?”
“Embarrassing you.”
“No chance.” I chuckled. Knox marched me around the trafficking ring parties wearing a collar and muzzle—she wouldn’t make a dent.
I paused, the black tapestry of the life I’d come from curdling strangely with the sweet aromas and loud noises of this nighttime fair.
