Page 20 of Ruined By the Mafia Kings (Alpha Mafia Kings #1)

“Morning, gentlemen,” I said, my attempt at casual bravado undermined by the way my voice cracked. “Hope you’re all feeling extra alpha today, because I’m about five minutes away from a heat stroke. Anyone interested in playing doctor? I hear body heat is the recommended treatment.”

Mr. Iceflare’s eyes narrowed, his nostrils flaring as he caught my amplified scent. “What have you done to yourself?” he demanded, his voice rougher than usual. “You smell like a walking pheromone factory.”

“De Luca’s special delivery,” I replied, gesturing vaguely at my oil-slicked skin. “Apparently, I wasn’t irresistible enough, so he decided to up the ante. Consider this the omega equivalent of a neon sign flashing Breed Me in forty-foot letters. Though I’d have preferred a billboard. Less sticky.”

“It’s working,” Mr. Enigma said, his green eyes darkening as he inhaled deeply. “You smell… Fuck, you smell incredible.”

“Enticing,” Mr. Storm said quietly, his eyes tracking the beads of sweat rolling down my neck.

Another cramp hit me, so severe that my knees buckled.

I dropped to all fours on the cold marble floor, a broken sound escaping as the pain tore through me.

The scent of desperate omega filled the room so completely that I heard all three alphas growl in response.

Great. Now I was literally prostrating myself before them. Could this get any more humiliating?

I pushed myself up on shaky legs, aware that I needed to approach one of them. My eyes drifted to Mr. Iceflare, whose ice-blue gaze seemed to pull me in with irresistible force.

“Stubborn little mouse,” he said, his chain stretching to the limit. “Come here before you collapse again.”

“So demanding,” I replied, taking an unsteady step toward him. “Do you use that tone with everyone, or am I just special?”

“You’re something,” he agreed, his eyes never leaving mine as I approached. “Though ‘special’ isn’t the word I’d use.”

The moment I was close, his chain-free hand shot out, pulling me against his chest with surprising gentleness. In one fluid motion, he lifted me as if I weighed nothing, carrying me to his bed.

“If I had known all it took was a heat crisis to get this kind of VIP treatment, I’d have skipped the suppressants years ago,” I quipped, inhaling his scent like it was oxygen and I was drowning. “Though the whole ‘mafia dungeon’ thing is a bit much for a first date.”

He set me down on his bed, his eyes scanning my face with an intensity that made me want to squirm. “Heat toxicity,” he said, not a question but a statement. “How long?”

“Since this morning,” I replied, wrapping my arms around myself as another shiver racked my body. “Getting worse by the hour. I’ve moved from ‘uncomfortable’ to ‘potentially dying’ on the heat scale. It’s been a real journey. Zero stars, would not recommend.”

Mr. Enigma approached, settling at the edge of Mr. Iceflare’s bed. Mr. Storm similarly positioned himself nearby. I was surrounded by alpha, their combined scents making my head spin with need.

“He needs relief,” Mr. Enigma said to Mr. Iceflare. “Real relief this time.”

“I know,” Mr. Iceflare replied, his jaw tight. He turned back to me, his expression unreadable. “Yesterday wasn’t enough.”

I managed a weak smile despite the tremors running through me. “What gave it away? The collapse or the mess I’m currently making on your sheets.”

“Changed,” Mr. Storm said, his quiet voice carrying weight. “Sweeter. Urgent.”

Mr. Iceflare placed a cool hand against my forehead, his touch gentle despite the tension radiating from him. “You’re burning up.”

“That’s what happens when your biology decides death by horniness is an acceptable evolutionary strategy,” I said, though the effect was somewhat undermined by the way I instinctively leaned into his touch.

“Omega design flaws, exhibit A through Z. Someone should really file a complaint with management. ‘Dear Evolution, your omega model is defective. Please send replacement parts or a full refund.’”

A muscle jumped in his jaw, his nostrils flaring as he caught another wave of my amplified scent. “Lie back,” he commanded, his voice dropping to a register that made my inner omega stand at attention.

I hesitated, my eyes darting between the three alphas.

Any of them could help me, would help me, if I played this right.

But something about Mr. Iceflare pulled me to him first, like a moth to a particularly dangerous flame.

Maybe it was the way he looked at me, like I was a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve but was determined to figure out.

“Why?” I asked, deliberately challenging despite my condition. “Planning to take my temperature? Because I’m pretty sure there are more fun ways to do that than a thermometer.”

“I’m planning to give you relief,” he said, his voice like gravel wrapped in silk. “But only if you behave.”

“Define ‘behave,’” I countered, even as I slowly reclined against his pillows. “Because if you mean ‘lie there like a dead fish,’ I should warn you that’s not really in my repertoire. I’m more of a ‘thrash around dramatically while making inappropriate comments’ kind of omega.”

“He means ‘do as you’re told,’” Mr. Enigma supplied, his green eyes gleaming with amusement despite the tension in the room. “A challenging concept for you, I imagine.”

“I can be very obedient when properly motivated,” I replied, stretching deliberately to display my body to the best advantage.

The movement intensified my scent, drawing another collective growl from the alphas.

“And right now, my motivation is not dying of heat toxicity. Amazing what that’ll do for one’s cooperative spirit. ”

“We’ll see,” Mr. Iceflare said, his voice a dangerous purr. He moved over me, his powerful body caging mine without touching. “Hands above your head.”

My heart hammered against my ribs, a mixture of fear and anticipation making my breath catch.

I raised my arms slowly, crossing my wrists above my head in what I hoped was an enticing display of submission.

“Like this?” I asked, watching his eyes darken as he took in the subservient pose.

“Or would you prefer a more artistic arrangement? I could try for ‘damsel in distress’ or maybe ‘reluctant sacrifice to the alpha gods.’”

“Perfect,” he murmured, his gaze tracking over my exposed body with predatory intensity. “Now stay still.”

Before I could respond with another quip, he lowered his head to my neck, his nose tracing the line of my throat where my scent was strongest. The contact sent electric shocks racing through my system, my back arching involuntarily despite his command to stay still.

Every nerve ending suddenly awakened, screaming for more contact.

“I said,” he growled against my skin, “stay still.”

“Trying,” I gasped, my body betraying me completely. “But my body’s not exactly taking orders from my brain right now. We’re experiencing some communication issues. Please hold while I reconnect the wires between my brain and my omega instincts.”

“His scent is stronger at the glands,” Mr. Enigma said, leaning closer. “Look how they’re swollen. I’ve never seen an omega respond like this.”

“Different,” Mr. Storm said quietly, his eyes never leaving my face.

Mr. Iceflare’s mouth opened against my scent gland, teeth grazing the sensitive skin without breaking it.

The sensation was so intense I nearly came on the spot, a broken sound escaping my throat as pleasure jolted through my entire body.

His tongue followed, hot and wet against the sensitive gland, tasting the oil-enhanced pheromones I was pumping out.

“Fuck,” he growled, the word vibrating against my pulse point. “You taste even better than you smell.”

“I bet he tastes good everywhere,” Mr. Enigma suggested, shifting restlessly. “Every. Single. Inch.”

The implication sent another wave of heat through me, my cock hardening further against my stomach. Mr. Iceflare seemed to take the suggestion as a challenge, his mouth continuing its downward exploration with deliberate slowness.

His lips trailed across my collarbone, down my chest, pausing to pay special attention to my nipples, which were just as sensitive as the rest of me.

When he took one between his teeth, tugging gently, I couldn’t hold back a cry of pleasure.

The sensation was electric, shooting straight to my core and making my back arch off the bed.

“Interesting,” he said, his breath hot against the sensitized peak. “Most male omegas don’t respond this strongly here.”

“Maybe I’m—ah!—not most male omegas,” I gasped as he switched to the other nipple, giving it the same thorough attention.

The wet heat of his mouth combined with the gentle scrape of teeth had me writhing beneath him, desperate for more.

“I'm a special snowflake. One of a kind. Limited edition. No other models available.”

“Clearly,” he agreed, his hands finally coming into play, stroking down my sides with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the hungry intensity of his gaze.

“Look how smooth his skin is,” Mr. Enigma remarked. “Like silk.”

“Distinctive,” Mr. Storm said.

I would have had a witty comeback ready if I could think straight, but the sensation of Mr. Iceflare’s hands on my skin had reduced my vocabulary to incoherent sounds of pleasure.

He continued his downward exploration, his mouth trailing over my stomach, dipping into my navel, following the path downward where not even the finest hair grew, another oddity of my omega biology that had always made me self-conscious.

Just another way my body screamed “different” when all I’d ever wanted was to blend in.

When he reached my straining cock, he paused, looking up at me with a predatory smile that made my breath catch.

“Please,” I whispered, the word escaping before I could stop it.

“Please what?” he prompted, his breath teasing against my sensitive skin. “Tell me exactly what you want, little mouse.”