Page 107 of Claimed By the Psychos

"Are you seriously getting handsy right now?" Bane's voice booms from the doorway, and Carlisle pulls back with a dramatic sigh.

"Your timing is impeccable as always," Carlisle says, straightening his tie like he wasn't just about to finger-fuck me against the furniture.

Bane fills the doorway like an annoyed grizzly bear, dressed in tactical gear that makes him look even more massive than usual. "We're ready to go. Don't get your pheromones all over our girl. She needs to smell unclaimed, not freshly fucked."

Our girl.

My heart does this stupid flutter at the term, and I hate how much I love hearing it. Like I belong to them. Like I'm theirs.

Which I guess I am, in every way that matters except the one that would make it permanent. But marks can wait until after we've dealt with whoever wants us dead.

"Fine," I huff, smoothing down my dress and checking my reflection one more time. Carlisle is right. I don't look like myself. I look like the mask I had to wear for so long, but this time, I'm putting it on willingly. "Let's go play dress-up and commit some mass murder of sick freaks."

"That's my girl," Carlisle purrs, offering me his arm.

I link my arm in his and freeze as soon as we step into the hall at the sight that greets me.

Felix.

Holy shit, Felix in a suit should be illegal in several countries.

He's standing in the hallway looking like every wet dream I've ever had came to life and decided to wear Armani. The charcoal grey suit fits him perfectly, highlighting his lean build, making him look sophisticated and dangerous in equal measure.His silver eyes catch mine, and there's something in them that makes my mouth go dry.

"You clean up nice," I manage, trying not to drool openly. And I can tell the alphas are having the same problem, except in their case, they have to worry about a knife in their balls.

He adjusts his cuffs with those elegant fingers that have killed more people than I can count. "Had to look the part. Beta handler to a high-value omega requires a certain... aesthetic."

That's when I notice it, or rather, don't notice it. The sharp chemical tang of artificial alpha pheromones is completely absent even though we're going on a mission. He smells like winter mornings and Felix, but muted, dampened down to beta levels by the suppressants.

"No alpha cologne today?" I ask, moving closer to him.

He shrugs, but there's something vulnerable in the gesture. "Didn't feel the need for it. Beta works better for the cover anyway."

My chest tightens with hope. The fact that he's not hiding behind that alpha mask feels like progress. Like maybe he's getting more comfortable with who he is, with us, with this life we're building together.

"Well, you smell fucking scrumptious as any classification," I tell him, pulling him down for a kiss that's softer than the one I shared with Carlisle but no less intense.

"And you look exquisite, as always," he says, stroking a strand behind my ear as he lets his gaze drift over me appreciatively. "Although, I do prefer you in red."

"Likewise," I purr, kissing him deeper.

"Again?" Bane groans from behind us. "You really can't keep your hands off us, can you?"

I pull back from Felix just enough to shoot Bane a wicked grin. "What can I say? You're all very touchable. It's not my faultyou're walking around looking like a buffet of daddy issues and dangerous men."

Carlisle barks out a laugh. "I'm putting that on my business card. Carlisle Thoreau, Daddy Issues and Dangerous Men Buffet."

"Can we focus?" Bane says, but his hazel eyes are warm with affection even as he tries to be the responsible one. "We have an auction to infiltrate."

Felix offers me his arm, and I take it, letting him lead me toward the front door where the others are waiting. Archer's dressed like security, all black tactical gear and earpiece, looking every inch the yummy bodyguard. Elias has gone for sophisticated patron, a navy suit that brings out his eyes, silver hair styled back in a way that makes him look like old money.

And the car I see waiting outside the door that makes me stop dead in my tracks.

"Holy shit," I breathe, rushing past the alphas and up to the car, practically pressing my face against the window. "Is that?—"

"Bentley Continental GT," Felix finishes, and there's actual appreciation in his voice. "W12 engine, zero to sixty in 3.6 seconds, top speed of 208 miles per hour."

"Carlisle procured it for the occasion," Bane explains, looking vaguely annoyed at the extravagance. "Said it was completely necessary."