Page 150 of Sweetheart: Part One

“No.” My word was a snarl.Agony tore through my body as I warred with the command. A whine of pain sounded deep in my chest as I dropped the brush.

A beat, and it clattered to the floor.

Still, pain seared my veins, a thousand solutions rushing to the surface, and I almost dug my fingers into the bowl and grabbed at the streak of faded peach that hung before my face.

Instead, with a wrench of agony, I shoved the bowl at his chest, and his stupid expensive beige suit.

The command shattered—along with the agony—as the bowl upended on his outfit. I wasn’t sure if it was because he relinquished the command, or because my brain found a way to say it couldn’t use the dye anymore.

He didn’t move, head tilted, black mask hiding what I knew was beneath; the scent of stale cigarettes had an edge of fury to it.

There was nothing else for it.

I ran.

I made it out of the bathroom before whipping back around to find Alastor wasn’t following. I stood frozen for a long time, heart hammering in my chest.

There was no way out for me, that’s why he wasn’t in a rush. I took a few steps back, terrified as I peered back into the bathroom.

Alastor was standing where I’d left him, fingers slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt. His suit jacket was already on the floor.

I backed up until I hit the bed, then I clutched the bedpost, mind racing a million miles an hour. I hated how controlled he was.

How slow and calculating.

I hated more when he finally stepped from the bathroom, and he was a fucking beast of a man. Tanned skin stretched across thick muscles. He was frightening, wearing nothing but dark jeans, and the ominous black mask that covered his whole face.

Run and hide.

That’s what my instincts were telling me. But for what? So he could drag me out of a closet or from under the bed, kicking and screaming.

No.

It wouldn’t be like that for me.

He didn’t need to do any of that.

My grip became vice-like on the bedpost as he crossed toward me, but I held my ground. He didn’t stop. Instead, he sat on the edge of my bed and then shifted onto it until his back was against the headboard.

“Sit with me,” he murmured.

I didn’t have time to consider it before I was moving. The dread was instant, though. He’d always been so formal, and now here he was, topless as he lounged on my bed.

He held a hand up as I reached the edge. “Lose the leggings and the top” he said. “I think it’s only fair.”

In a flash of panic, I thought of fighting the command again, but I cringed away from the pain still buzzing in my veins. And I didn’t want him to come after me for this.

I didn’t want him chasing me or attacking me like he had a thousand times in my nightmares.

I felt pathetic and vulnerable in the wine-red lace that remained when I’d stripped the clothing off.There was never much choice in here, all my clothing was supplied by his pack.

I was numb by the time I’d reached him, shock drowning out everything. I’d never felt so small than I did as I sat beside him among my blankets.

When he finally spoke, I jumped violently. “I don’t think you know quite how good you have it, Vex.”

I bit back my sound of derision.

“There are three other alphas in this pack. Why don’t you poke the bond? See if you can tell how they’re getting along having a bonded omega they can’t fuck.”

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