Page 40 of Deadly Ties

“When?” I’m close enough to the glass wall to see the audience warming up, which basically means zippers are on the way down. “He’s fucking with us. Or he’s down there fucking some random chick. This is a waste of time.”

Cam is on the velvet couch with the champagne bottle in hand like it’s any other night, but he looks back over his shoulder at me with a snarl. “Just sit down and have a fucking drink, you miserable asshole.”

More truth, but it’s physically impossible to make myself sit. The last time I was here with Kelly – about a week before Arben Marku yanked us out of Steiner territory and took us to the Tower – we were alone, and we’d watched the whole show side-by-side, barely touching except for my hand on his throat. He thought I was just being a dominating prick, but I’d already picked out where I wanted to bite him.

So no, I can’t sit down. And I’m sure as shit not going to drink French champagne when it’s Kelly’s favorite.

This will be a celebration over my dead body.

I’m on the edge of storming out when Cam’s cell pings. He reads the message and grunts, then jerks a thumb at the drinks’ cabinet. “Get the opera glasses.”

“The fucking what?”

“Opera glasses.Binoculars, you savage.”

I huff and snatch them off the cabinet, tossing them at his head. He gives me a foul look, but then points them down at the audience. I can’t help but feel curious. “Who are you looking for? Or are you perving on Rory’s microscopic dick?”

“Just shut up.”

I think about punching him in the back of his thick neck, but I really am trying to keep Feral Link locked up right now. So, instead, I drift over to the viewing wall and lean my throbbing head against the one-way glass. The lights have dimmed a little, and the first act is out on the stage, but I only give them a passing glance. A guy, a girl, both dressed in white leotards and wolf masks, but nothing that’s likely to impress this crowd. I’ve seen the show so many times I could probably dance it myself, and the audience is here for flashy group sex. They want the tease, the chase, but mostly they just want a lot of energetic fucking. Shifter dancers are built for it, and while the two on the stage look sweet enough, they’re not exactly showstoppers…

The breath whooshes out of me so fast I bounce off the glass. “What. The. Fuck!”

“What is it?” Cam is still swinging the fancy binoculars my way as I almost rip his fingers off to grab them. “Jesus, Link!”

But I ignore him, pointing them at the stage. Only my arms are shaking so bad, I can’t focus, and I groan until I catch the glint of silver-streaked hair. I quickly follow it as it flits across the stage and see a perfect dimpled chin. Then golden eyes, bright as a wild cat, staring through the face of a wolf.

“That’s Elvi,” I grind out, my finger slamming into the glass. “Elvana Bisha. And fuck, Cam… I think… I think she’s dancing withKelly.”

“Link…”

Am I crying? I can’t fucking see through the binoculars anymore, so I hurl them aside, barely noticing as they take out the champagne glass I never touched.

Cam is on his feet, so he must be dealing better with the shock than I am. Instead of dropping to his knees, he’s suddenly holding me by the front of my shirt, pulling my fist away from where it’s pounding on the glass. “Calm down, bro!”

I nod, but I know I’m hyperventilating. Not that it matters if I topple over dead. Because Kelly is down there, dancing around the stage with the girl I fucked over for him. And they areradiant. That’s the word they use for people doing something they love, isn’t it? Because everything about them is full of joy. There might be some nerves, since they’re clearly not professionals, but they look like this is the only place they want to be.

And they look fucking beautiful.

I always knew it about Kelly, from the second he rolled up to my dad’s compound, spitting and cursing at us all in his plummy golden boy accent. But now I can admit it about Elvana, too. Because they’re a perfect pair. He’s a leaping flame to her flickering moonlight. Gold to her silver. Both in sheer white that hugs their lean forms, his chest bare and hers almost visible through the thin fabric. I can see the swell of his cock, the points of her nipples, the movement of their ribs as they lean into each other and dance away. They’re both too thin, but that just adds to their beauty. They look fragile. Breakable. A temptation begging to be grabbed, those sweet, lithe bodies giving way as you pin them under your weight and bite down on their necks... And then I realize everyone down there sees it, too.

There are two omegas on stage.

No one in the audience is moving. Usually, by this time, there are tits and cocks everywhere, but they’re all transfixed. Rows and rows of silent predators. Watching the two perfect omegas like a pair of angels just floated down out of the rafters.

I don’t even try to swallow my howl this time.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

“For fuck’s sake,wait, Link!” Cam hauls me tight, trapping me against the glass. “Just check out the front row center. Youcannotgo running down there in this state.”

“Fuck you!” I hiss, trying to heave him off. I can feel my wolf rising up, my claws pushing through my fingers. “That’s my fucking mate!”

I catch the edge of Cam’s pitying stare. “Yeah, but they’re not dancing for you, bro. Do you hear me? Can you push your beast back enough to see the goddamn mountain in the front row?”

I grit my teeth, but look where he points. And I don’t need the fucking binoculars to recognize the bastard.

Arben Marku.

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