Page 43 of Deadly Ties

Arben just grunts, Rory dropping into the seat right next to him. There’s no way he got tired of staring at Kelly’s ass, but his eyes are now glued to the sight of his mate stuffed deep inside me. “Beautiful,” he mutters, stroking his own cock so fast I can barely see his hand. My hooded gaze jumps between him and Arben, and the sight of them pleasuring themselves while staring at us almost overwhelms me.

“I know, Angel,” Kelly whispers as he picks up his own pace. “We’re nearly there. But we’re gonna take our men with us, right?”

I give a furious nod, panting so hard I have to grip his thighs to stop myself from swooning. His hips roll up into me another few times and when I feel him start to swell, his eyes flick to Arben. Sweeping my hair over my shoulder, he nuzzles my neck for a moment, then sinks his teeth right into my claiming mark.

I give a squealing moan, but Arben roars, and I tip my head to watch great ropes of cum splash into his hand. As he collapses back into the couch, Kelly’s cheek slides over mine, and I can feel his grin. But then he tilts his head, exposing his neck. “Now you, baby girl.”

Rory curses, but then my teeth are sinking into his mate’s neck and Arben’s hand comes down onto his pulsing cock. The big fingers tug at the sensitive head, milking his cum, and the helpless groan that tears out of Rory nudges me over the edge. As soon as my walls start to flutter, Kelly tips me forward and pounds me to his release.

I’m not sure if we kept to the five-minute limit, but we’re all breathing like we’ve run the race of our lives.

Link

Getting backstage is a fucking test of my non-existence patience. I raced out of the booth as soon as Kelly left the stage, Cam scrambling on his half-healed leg to follow. I’d never had reason to try to see a dancer before; every member signs a contract that agrees they’re off-limits. People get round it – no doubt like that asshole in the audience who offered twenty grand to get my mate to fuck onstage – but it’s always somewhere away from the theater. Which means the security in the hallway leading to the dancers’ rooms is too big to tackle, and paid too much to bribe.

Never has my trigger finger itched so badly.

“I need to get back there,” I seethe, staring at the brick wall in front of me. “My omega was just on stage…”

The seven-foot guard gives me a bored look, complete with an eye-roll. “You and the last three members to try that line, sir.” He looks me over, no doubt seeing how close my wolf is to the surface, and thumbs the safety catch on his holster. “Now, stand back or I’ll have to get you removed from the building.”

“Wait up!” The only thing stopping me from snatching the gun from my boot and drilling a hole in his forehead is Cam, wincing as he runs up behind me. He shoots me a pissed off look, then holds his hands up, smiling at the guard. “We’re here with Arben Marku. He told us to meet him backstage. I’m a medic and he’s security,” he nods in my direction. “We both work in the service of his omega.”

I blink. Cam is a fucking puppet master, but this bullshit story is a stretch, even for him.

But to my amazement, the guard just gives him a respectful nod. “Alpha Marku said you might be by.” He tilts his head, chewing on his cheek while he studies me. “You must be hot shit if you’re guarding Dr. Death’s property.”

I want to tell him to stop stroking his holster and try me out. But Cam is suddenly dragging me past him, up some stairs, and through a metal door marked Staff Only.

“What did you say?” I demand as soon as it clangs shut. “What was that bullshit about Marku?”

He just flicks a glance down the first passageway. “You want to see Kelly or not?”

“I want to know what the hell is going on.”

But even I can hear the lie in my words. I want Kelly. Safe, healthy, and in my arms. But I don’t want to know whatever deal Cam made to make that happen. Because my brain instantly goes to that other murky presence in our bond. Kelly has never been exactly visible to me. He’s a low-level hum, a static I can barely hear but always feel in my chest, as real as my heartbeat. But then there’s the new fucker who bit him. I feel that presence like a burn on my soul. Like he’s clomping round my house in a pair of steel toe boots.

“Is he with Marku? Did that fucker bite him?”

“Jesus, Link.” Cam sounds as tired as I feel, but he stops to check me over. He’s in medic mode, making sure I’m not about to wolf out. “Are you up for this, brother? We can go home, arrange to see him tomorrow…”

“Fuck you.” I push past him, trying to hone in on that static in my heart. But the blood is pumping too loudly in my head, and then there’s the music. Strangled cats sound better than the shit pumping from their speakers, but at least it points me in the right direction. I rub my chest as I cut down another passageway. The place is a freaking maze. How long have we been dicking around, anyway? Is he still even here? My heart rate picks up at that and I start to jog. Instead of another door, there’s enough black material to sail a cruise liner. The curtains, or wings, or whatever they call them, the music now so loud I’m wincing. Startled dancers leap out of my way, but I ignore them. There’s a scent on the air. Sweet and spicy.

And one hundred percent omega.

I feel Cam tug on my arm just as a door pushes open and they come out. Rory and Marku are at the front, still fixing their clothes. But then the omegas come through in a pair of matching white robes. They’re hooded-eyed and flushed, but it’s not just from shaking their asses on stage. No, even a miserable shit like me knows what an afterglow looks like.

But as soon as they catch sight of us, the joy slips off their faces. I sense Elvana stiffening more than see it; everything in me is focused on Kelly. And he looks so good I almost buckle at the knees. Either that phone he bribed off the guard had a shitty filter, or someone has worked some magic, because he looks totally healed. That white shit he wore on stage has melted off and there’s not a bruise or scratch on him that I can see. And in the sheer robe he stands tall and proud, more alpha than omega with all that hot, rippling muscle on display. When my hungry gaze reaches my bite mark on his chest, I can’t stop the strangled groan that forces its way up my throat.

Kelly. Is. Here.

Still, I want to scrub at my eyes to make sure it’s not a mirage. That he’s really standing in front of me, his chin up and his eyes drinking me in. But when I take an unsteady step towards him, he raises a hand. Not to greet me. Not to pull me into a hug. But to fuckingstopme from getting any closer.

And then his beautiful face creases into a disgusted frown. “What the hell, Link?”

His voice – with that plummy accent that goes straight to my cock – is full of anger and confusion. But mostly disappointment. And when my eyes drift to the omega at his side, it’s clear that their performance on the stage wasn’t just for show. She’s wound around his arm, staring up at him, her mouth soft and puffy. And when he feels her attention, he dips his head and brushes his fingers over her cheek.

Fuck me.

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