Page 19 of Filthy Beginnings

Like finding out the name of his omega, and how he could make a better impression the next time around.

His palm hit the metal door just as Egan spoke. “You won’t win.” Glee thickened his voice. “A non-consortium, non-Brotherhood fighter has never won this tournament and that will never change. You may think you’re something, but you’re not. You and your family are space trash and you always will be. I run a gambling enterprise. I only bet on sure things and I’d wager my fortune that neither the money nor the prize herself will ever be yours.”

Damien read the underlying message loud and clear. Egan and his consortium had already chosen their tournament winners, and they were going to do whatever it took to protect those interest.

But Damien had always known the contest was rigged. He just didn’t care.

The more odds they stacked against him, the better he liked it.

“I’ll take that bet, Alphahole.” He shoved open the door and strode out.

Because nothing was going to keep him from her.

5

That evening, Scarlett stood by her narrow bed while security checked beneath it and Egan Avitus circled around her, his polished black boots clacking on the bare tiled floor, his scent mask making each of his exhales sound like a menacing rumble.

He’d had guards watching her more diligently than usual since they’d dragged the fearless Alpha away.

But no one had mentioned him since—and she was not stupid enough to ask.

Yet a hundred questions about the Alpha burned raw and desperate on her tongue like the sharpest spice.

And that restless need that had flared inside her since his appearance had not abated.

It pulsed within her, a hot, searing flame of need between her thighs—and it would not go away, no matter how much she willed it otherwise.

Thank the Goddess for the cuffs and collar at her wrists and throat, because she’d peeked under one while she was in the washroom and noticed thin, curved lines snaking around her skin—marks that she suspected would make Egan even more watchful.

“What do you know of the fighter who attacked security?” Egan barked the question as two beta servants finished brushing her hair and tying the straps of her sleeping gown.

“Nothing, Alpha Lord.”

“You have never had contact with Damien Skolov before?”

Prizes were allowed little privacy. There were even guards outside her bath. Egan’s questions were ridiculous, his only purpose to rile her.

But his words had the opposite effect. Finally, she had a name.

“No, Alpha Lord.”Damien Skolov. She turned the name over in her mind, shivers rippling down her spine. She liked it. Strong. Wild. Just like him.

Goddess, she hoped he was okay.

“You will do nothing to encourage him.”

Her heart beat fast. Did that mean he was still alive?

Every fiber of her being screamed yes.

Otherwise, why was her skin still itchy? Her core swollen? Her body reaching for his, as if the Alpha held a magnet and drew her to him even now.

He had to be alive.

“Did you hear what I said, prize, or do I need to get the strap?” Egan was more of a businessman than a fighter, but that did not stop him from doling out a beating.

She forced herself to focus. “I am listening, Alpha Lord.”

“You’d better be.” He nodded to security to check the closet. “Fighters like him care for glory and gold, and the younger they are, the dumber and more they have to prove. They want their prizes—but only while the shine holds and their blood is fired by competition. Once that ends, they’re on to the next trophy. Don’t be stupid enough to think you’re anything more to him than a few wet holes and another short-lived victory.”

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