Page 34

Chapter Thirty-Four

T he bulb flashes in my face, making little spots dance along my vision for the hundredth time, and my willingness to be a part of this apparel campaign is quickly waning. For whatever reason, this bullshit has gone on for much longer than ever before, and I’m completely fucking over it.

“Just a few more,” the photographer announces way too cheerfully. “I need some of Miller and Owen together. Our ace pitching and catching dynamo.”

Across the room, Owen mutters something to Crimson that even my superior Alpha hearing can’t detect, but judging by the eye-roll Crimson tosses his way, it’s something shitty. My so-called best friend has been acting like a pouty baby this whole shoot, refusing to talk to me and snarling anytime we come within ten feet of one another.

Dude needs a serious slap upside the head. The rest of his pack and my other teammates are treating me like a social pariah, albeit in a more subtle way. Damien keeps throwing me apologetic glances, but he clearly doesn’t want to cross the line.

Absolutely ridiculous.

You’d think I had been kicking puppies instead of claiming my scent match. Where’s the congratulations? The ‘I’m so happy for yous’? Nope—these shitstains are all rolling over so as not to provoke the Almighty Owen Moore—the owner’s son.

“Okay, let’s get it done,” I agree, stepping forward, eager to finish so I can meet up with Posie at the fair. Owen frowns but gets on the platform, standing as stiff as a statue and as far away from me as possible.

“You two are going to need to get closer for the shot,” the photographer directs. With a huge sigh, Owen stands where he’s told. The aggression pouring from him raises my hackles, and I imagine myself throwing an elbow back into his gut.

The camera clicks loudly. Owen mutters behind me, and I stand under the bright lights, sweat dotting my forehead, counting backward to calm my anger.

Three.

Click. Click. Click.

Two.

“You’re such a fucking snake,” Owen mutters.

One .

“Fuck off. I love her.” A growl rumbles from my chest, making the people near us blanch and take a few steps back. No one wants to get between feuding Alphas.

“Okay, now you need to look like you don’t want to murder one another,” an assistant chirps, scanning the pictures.

“Well, maybe he shouldn’t be violating my baby sister,” Owen shouts at the poor, unsuspecting man who slowly blinks, glancing between us with no idea what to say. “She’s practically a child, you fucking pedo!” He grabs my shirt, giving it a rough shake. A tear rips through the air.

Absolutely. Fucking. Not.

“She’s twenty—a few weeks away from twenty-one. Don’t act like I’m some kind of creep,” I snarl, wrenching away from him. This shoot is officially over. They can figure the rest out without me. My heart drums in my ears. I need to step away before I do something I’ll regret. Storming out of the bright lights, I grab my phone. Posie’s been alone for long enough, and it’s high time I head her way.

The screen brightens at my touch, and my mouth goes dry when I see that I missed a text from her.

Someone’s freaking my girl out at the carnival? Fuck no. Without looking back, I grab my bag and run from the building.

The drive to the fairground goes by in a flash of lights and swirling trees. There may have been cars and stoplights, but hell if I know. The world has narrowed to one thing and one thing alone—getting to my omega.

Holding the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip, I heave it to the left, not caring if there’s anyone in the way. All the hair on my body stands on edge, nerves firing with unmatched adrenaline. I haven’t been this out of control, this frightened, since the accident, and every muscle in my body is tight enough to snap.

Fuck parking spots. Slamming my foot on the gas, I pull right up to the admission booth and jam the brakes so hard that they squeal. Suddenly, the phone rings, breaking through the screaming in my ears that’s been ever present since I left the studio. Seeing Posie’s name, I answer it, barely able to speak through the chokehold fear has on my throat.

“Puff, where are you?” I croak, but all I can hear on the other end is gasping breaths and a hint of tears. A gleam of metal catches my eye next to me. My practice bat. “Posie, talk to me.”

A bark rolls out of me, but it’s useless over the phone. I slide the phone under my ear, grab the baseball bat from the passenger seat and rush out of the car, hauling ass past the ticket booth. The second I get by it the scents of the carnival assault my hypersensitive nose.

There are too many.

It interferes with my ability to catch her sweet cotton candy, but something inside me steps up to the plate. A bright golden thread wraps its way around my heart and points me toward the animal tents.

“Posie, I’m here… Where are you, love?” I try to keep my voice calm, soothing. A little sob comes over the line, and my eyes se arch frantically for any sign of Posie or her friends. The Ferris Wheel spins cheerfully, and music warbles happily around the festival, completely at odds with what’s going on.

“M-Miller. It’s Mari,” a voice says softly. “They have Posie and Emma.”

Her words send an ice pick through my soul, and my mind immediately conjures the worst-case scenarios.

“Where are you?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm. The quiver in Mari’s tone tells me she’s already stressed and terrified, so losing my shit won’t help the situation. My body thrums with pent-up tension, but that little golden thread pulls me onward. Alpha instincts keep my feet moving, and I take in huge lungfuls of air, searching for the scent that I love best.

“Behind the livestock tents. Near the bunnies,” she whimpers. “I’m hiding. Oh shit. Posie just slammed her knee into Alex’s nuts.”

The sign for baby animals looms before me, and I move from a slow, mindful jog into a full sprint. Burned sugar hits me like a freight train, adding wings to my feet. My legs churn faster than they ever have, pushed on by the beast within me.

Spotting Mari crouched behind a porta-potty, I follow her gaze to the dark, shadowed area. Slowing long enough to quiet my footsteps, I sidle up next to Mari, making her gulp.

“He slapped her in the face after she kneed him. I-I wanted to stop him…” The tiny beta is shaking like a leaf. I wish I had time to console her, but my top priority is killing the man who thought he could put his hands on what’s mine.

The baseball bat is heavy in my grip, menacing and ready for mayhem .

“You did good,” I tell Mari, pocketing my phone and getting a feel for the weight of the slugger. “Go see if you can find security.”

Hefting the bat, I slap it across my palm ominously, then venture into the dimly-lit passageway.

Thwack. Thwack.

The lust for violence burns the surface of my palm with every crack of the metal, bringing my dominance and aggression to the forefront.

And when I see her in his arms, it comes roaring to a head.

Posie’s struggling against a mid-sized Alpha. His black hair looks familiar, and as I get closer I realize why. Driving school. Hand on her back. Break him.

They’re arguing, but the ominous sound of my bat hitting flesh echoes around the space. The Alpha eyes me warily, his nostrils flaring. His eyes land on the weapon in my hands and he yanks my Puff forcefully into his body, wrapping one arm around her to cup her throat.

She whimpers and it spears through me.

Goodbye Alex- the world won’t miss you.

I’m out-manned but bigger than the two goons, and I let an animalistic growl rumble from my chest.

“I suggest you let them go. Unless dying sounds better,” I snarl.

The blond Alpha holding Emma gulps audibly and immediately releases the little spitfire to hold his hands up in surrender.

“Hey. I don’t want trouble. We were just messing around.” The words are barely out of his mouth when Emma slams into him with a full body check, kicking him hard enough on the shin that he yowls in pain.

Certain that Emma can more than take care of that garbage, I turn toward the real threat. The asshat who seems to think he has a claim on my girl.

Glowering at him, I swing the bat menacingly, smiling as it whooshes through the air. He’s holding Posie like a shield— fucking pathetic cunt —and I need to get him to focus on me instead

“I suggest you get your filthy hands off my mate.”

“Your what? No, I’m the one dating her,” he explains, backing up as I advance. For a second, it seems like Alex is going to let her go, but then he takes a deep sniff of her scent, and his pupils blow wide.

Fuck .

Posie whimpers, her eyes locked on me. But the trust and love mirrored in her gaze gives me strength.

A wall of her cotton candy scent burst through the area—sickly sweet and calling to the depths of my soul.

Heat. Omega. Mine.

A feral haze obliterates any diplomacy and tact I want to use.

Someone is touching my omega. Someone is dead.

Lunging forward, I grab the hand around Posie’s throat with a wild roar. Wrenching it, I break his hold, loving how the tendons snap and pop.

Break hands that touch.

She darts out of his hold, slipping behind me and fisting the back of my shirt like the perfect omega. Knowing she’s close lets me do what I have to, bringing the metal bat down over and over with loud thumps until the threat’s neutralized. Bleeding and broken on the ground. He moans but doesn’t try to get up again. I debate ending him right here, but a whimper has me snapping back to my Puff.

Posie’s scent deepens, pulling notes of vanilla and cherries—the tastiest treat—and it thickens. All my Alpha instincts go on high alert, knowing she’s on the edge—her pheromones calling to every unmated Alpha in the vicinity.

“Miller,” she whines, so full of omega power that nearly brings me to my knees, ready to worship at the altar of her pussy. “I need you.”

Reaching backward, I snag her hand and lead her to my front. She presses into me, sniffing hard and then smiling as though my scent is coming through loud and clear.

“I need you too, my love.” With one hand still holding the bat, I use the other to tilt her chin up to see her luminous eyes when I claim her lips. They shine in the carnival lights, blowing wide at the first slide of our tongues.

The connection is instant, just as it always has been, the golden thread tying us tighter and tighter together. Our bond is already shining, and by the end of the night, it’ll be permanent.

She’ll be wearing my bite.