Page 37 of Filthy Royal

A beat of silence. Damien had surprised him. Good.

But even that didn’t shut the Consortium Alpha up for long. “You’re too young to know what you want. Or to make such promises. Does your family even know you’re here?”

Damien hated that Luc’s shot in the dark hit home. “I’m old enough.” He was getting awfully tired of having to defend his age. “Old enough to satisfy all of Scarlett’s needs.” He smirked, then felt like an asshole, so he added, “We’re in love.”

“You fool. It’s been only two rotations since you pulled your little stunt and pissed off the Consortium. You don’t even know her.”

“Sometimes, you just know.” At least the jerk had no idea he and Scarlett were spending time together.

Luc studied him. Blew out a breath. “Fine. I’ll grant you that. Sometimes”—a muscle pulsed in his jaw—“the connection is just there, and you know. But it’s not enough. You think love matters in the end?” The canister crumpled in his hand. “It doesn’t once survival is on the line.”

“Hells. Cynical much.” Damien tossed his own drink aside. “You nursing a broken heart?”

Scarlett’s brother snarled at him, getting in his face. “You know nothing.”

Damien was not one to back down. Chest puffing wide, he snarled right back. “I know I can make Scarlett happy. I know I can protect her. Keep her safe.”

“You aren’t even Brotherhood. Even if you win, do you really think you can give her what Stormhart can?”

Damien’s fangs punched against his gums, the urge to strike back intense. But this was Scarlett’s brother. And it would be a lot easier for them all if the Alphahole liked him.

He took a breath. Stepped back. “Did Scarlett say she wanted Stormhart?”

Luc’s gaze slid away. “No.”

Relief slammed through Damien. “Well then, there’s your answer.”

“Not even close.” Luc’s voice was still low, but it carried a new strain of urgency. “Don’t let your ego get in the way. You may have something to prove—hells, we all do—but don’t chase it at Scarlett’s expense. We all sacrifice for the ones we love. You want to prove you’re really the kind of Alpha she can count on? Let Stormhart win.”

The male stormed off.

But his words remained, echoing in Damien’s head.

We all sacrifice for the ones we love. You want to prove you’re really the kind of Alpha she can count on? Let Stormhart win.

Fuck that.

Striking out, he swept his forearm across the table and sent a row of lined-up containers flying off the table.

A couple of nearby fighters cursed. A few more jumped out of the way as the canisters clattered to the floor. All gave him dirty looks.

He didn’t give a shit.

Luc’s words pricked at him. Did Scarlett have reservations like her brother? Was there some part of her that wondered if Stormhart would make a better match? There was no denying the benefits of being the prime omega of an Alpha from an established Brotherhood family—and he could promise until he was blue in the face that his family would be Brotherhood one rotation soon, but they weren’t now.

His claws burst from his skin, another wave of aggression roiling through him.

Through intense force of will, he forced his claws to retract before any of the other fighters noticed and thought he was issuing a challenge. He could only imagine what Scarlett’s brother or Egan would say if he got into another brawl now.

He had to play it cool.

Trouble was, he’d heard enough about fated mates to know that they were rare and that most Alphas avoided such pairings because it was said to lead to out-of-control behavior, bad choices, and even mental instability.

A description that fit his current mood way too well.

But screw that.

That wasn’t what was happening here. He was just a little on edge because the stakes were so high.

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