Page 23 of The Violence of Love (The Black Market Omega #2)

Charlie

Leaning against the counter, all I can think about is Autry’s breathy moans. I didn’t mean to listen in on their private moment. Honestly, I had only left my room in search of some breakfast. But the moment I heard those soft, desperate sounds, I froze. And then I moved closer.

It was wrong. I know it was wrong. But I couldn’t stop myself.

Autry came, long and loud, and her scent—sweet, like lemons soaked in honey. It washed over me in waves, leaving me completely breathless. I’d never experienced anything like it. Not even close.

Even now, the memory of it lingers. My mouth waters. My skin prickles. Her arousal still clinging to my nose, and I can even scent Rhett—his alpha musk layered beneath hers.

It’s shocking.

And it makes no sense.

Betas have a muted sense of smell compared to other dynamics. We can’t pick up the delicate shift of pheromones or the subtle change of emotion in the air—I’ve never once “smelled” sex. But with Autry? It’s like my body’s rewriting the rules.

Betas and omegas can’t be fated mates, I remind myself. Only alphas and omegas.

But right now, standing in this incredibly fancy kitchen, I can’t help but wonder if the universe has brought us together for a reason. Like I’m meant to be part of this—part of her story.

Even if it feels like I muscled my way in.

My stomach growls, and I glance back at my toast, still warming up in the toaster.

It took me a good ten minutes to find the dang thing.

This kitchen is sleek and spotless with everything hidden away in a drawer or cabinet.

Except for the fanciest coffeemaker I’ve ever seen in my life.

The big black machine looks like it belongs in a spaceship, but everything else is clean and sleek. I believe they call it modern.

The upper cabinets and backsplash are white, the granite countertop is black with dark gray cabinets underneath, and the kitchen island is a deep navy blue with a thick wooden countertop. All the appliances and fixtures are a mixture of brushed black metal and shiny gold.

It’s beautiful, but I’ve never felt so out of place in my life.

“Morning,” Myrick says warmly as he enters the kitchen.

I straighten and give him a polite smile. “Good morning.”

He doesn’t seem tense like I expected. If anything, he looks relaxed. Friendly. The beta looks half-asleep in his plush forest-green pajama pants and a navy silk robe. The outfit is somehow still very fancy. I, on the other hand, look like I wandered out of a middle school slumber party .

I’m wearing one of Rhett’s college t-shirts. The words Imperium University Water Polo are printed in big maroon colors across my chest. The hem falls to my mid-thighs and the gym shorts are also way too big, covering my knees completely. I feel like a child playing dress up.

“Thanks again for last night.” I keep my arms loose at my sides, trying not to fidget. “I know…I sort of showed up out of nowhere.” I force a small laugh. “I just—Thank you for being so nice to me.”

Myrick blinks at me, then softens. “Don’t worry about it,” he says quickly.

“In fact, I’m sorry I wasn’t friendlier.

I was so tired last night, I didn’t mean to come off cold.

” He steps toward the counter and starts fiddling with the espresso machine.

“Did you find everything?” The blond beta motions to the coffee maker. “Do you want an espresso?”

“No, thank you,” I politely decline as he turns the machine on. It whirls to life, humming loudly. “I didn’t want to risk breaking anything, so I’m sticking with toast and water.” I point to my glass sitting on the kitchen island.

“There’s orange juice in the fridge,” Myrick says as he points to the elegant, black fridge.

“Or I can make you some tea.” Myrick walks to what I assume is the pantry.

“I’m going to make some for Autry anyway.

” He opens the door, then lets out a soft coo.

“Good morning, sweet baby.” He leans down, picking something up.

“You have a dog!” I smile wide at the sight of the tiny white puppy.

“This is Dolly.” He scoops up the puppy and cuddles her to his chest. She immediately starts licking his face with uncontainable joy.

“She’s still a baby—rescued her a few years ago.

We keep her in here when we leave the house.

” His gaze flicks toward the pantry. “I wasn’t sure how Autry would feel about dogs… ”

He trails off like he’s genuinely worried it might be a deal-breaker.

“I don’t know about dogs,” I say, reaching out to scratch behind Dolly’s ear. She’s incredibly soft. “But Autry loved feeding the birds at the boarding house.”

Myrick tilts his head, curious. “Boarding house?”

“Yeah, I worked there. I’m a COC,” I say, and Myrick frowns, not knowing what that is.

“Certified omega caretaker,” I tell him.

“The boarding house is where they send injured omegas to recover. That’s where I met Autry.

” I tell him about her broken arm and that I have no idea what happened to her.

Part of me wants him to know that I have as much to learn about her as he does, but I also want to make it clear that she might not be ready to talk about it.

Myrick’s expression softens. “I feel awful for her,” he murmurs, then lowers Dolly to the floor.

The puppy trots off, her tiny nails clicking softly against the tile as she disappears down the hallway.

“I want to wrap that omega up and squish her tight,” he says, pulling a clear glass mug from the cabinet.

“She’s so little, but she’s got this… weight to her.

Like she’s been carrying something for a long time. ”

I nod, swallowing hard.

“Are you sure you just want water?” he asks, grabbing a golden canister with “Tea” embossed on the side. “I can make you whatever. Latte? Cappuccino? We’ve even got cold brew.”

“That’s really nice of you,” I say, and I mean it. “But I never got into coffee.”

He stares at me like I just confessed to murder. “You don’t like coffee? ”

“I know. Shocking,” I joke. “People usually react that way.”

My toast pops up behind me. I fumble around for a plate, but there are way too many cabinets. Everything is spotless and perfectly organized. I want butter, but rifling through their fridge feels weirdly invasive, so I decide to eat it dry.

Myrick starts the tea, pressing a few buttons on the coffeemaker before lifting a small lever. Hot water streams from the nozzle into the glass. The machine hums low and steady.

I sip from my tepid water, trying to gather some courage. “Hey.” My voice comes out quieter than I intend. “I just… wanted to apologize.”

Myrick turns, brows rising slightly. He looks surprised. Curious.

“I’m really sorry for the way this happened.

For pushing my way into your pack,” I say.

While I don’t want Myrick to hate me, I totally get it if he does.

“Rhett and I made a deal without including you, and that wasn’t fair.

I just—I don’t know. I feel like I bulldozed into something that wasn’t mine. ”

Myrick looks at me for a long moment before his mouth curves into a tired, but genuine smile. “Charlie, you didn’t bulldoze anything.”

I frown, skeptical. “It kind of feels like I did.”

He takes a tea bag from the canister and drops it into the hot water. The liquid starts to turn a soft amber. “Rhett is my alpha,” he says simply, pulling a pink box from the fridge—Le Clare’s Patisserie printed across the front in cursive. “I trust him to make the right choices for our pack.”

“I get that,” I say. “But I still think you should’ve been asked. Or at least warned. I would’ve wanted a say if I were in your shoes.”

“Listen to me.” He looks over at me, more serious now. “If you want to stay here—really be in this pack—you have to accept what that means. Alphas lead. We follow. That’s how it works. Rhett doesn’t need my permission to make a decision.”

I shift my weight, uneasy. “But don’t you get a say in anything?”

Myrick gives me a steady look. “Of course I have opinions. And Rhett listens—he always does. But at the end of the day, his word is final. That’s not me giving up control.

That’s me trusting my alpha.” He places a warm hand on my forearm.

“If we don’t trust the person leading us, then we’re not a pack. We’re roommates with shared bills.”

That hits harder than I expect.

Is this what being in a pack really means? Just handing over every decision to someone else? I probably should have taken a Pack Dynamics class in high school, but I honestly never thought I’d be in one.

Myrick must see the doubt on my face, because he offers a small, reassuring smile. “Don’t overthink it, Charlie. Trust Rhett, and the rest will fall into place.”

A soft chime echoes through the apartment—probably the elevator or door buzzer—and Myrick flinches slightly at the sound.

His blue eyes fall to my half-eaten toast. “Please, get some real breakfast.” He points at the pink box of pastries. “That dry toast is making me sad.”

I laugh under my breath, then toss the toast into the trash.

Myrick glides out through the arched doorway and down the hall, leaving the warm scent of fresh tea and fresh air in his wake.

I stare at where he just disappeared, wondering what Autry’s doing. Is she taking a bath? Did she sleep well? Was Rhett good to her last night?

Part of me aches to check on her. She might need comfort. She might need care. Hell, she might need ointment. Alphas are known to be rough.

But maybe Myrick already did all that.

Still, the urge to see her—to be there for her—pulls at me like gravity.

“Come have a cup of coffee,” Myrick calls down the hall, footsteps echoing off the polished floors. A moment later, the air shifts—sharp, minty, clean—and I know it’s Oli before I see him.