Page 42 of Two For the Show (Trapped On The Tightrope Duet #2)

Alex’s eyes are empty.

There is no emotion glittering in them. No challenge, no humor.

When she speaks, her voice has a gravelly quality that it usually lacks.

“I am not going anywhere with you.” She takes several steps forward, hands flexing beside her thighs. “You’ll have to kill me before I go back to them.”

“Now, Dr. Shields,” Warner Bradley says tentatively, holding his palms up. “Let’s talk through this. We have to process this paperwork now, but I can file our own documents and work to get you back with your pack.”

“No.”

The single word reverberates through the tent.

“No?” He has the sense to sound a little afraid of her.

“No. I will not be a pawn in some political game. I am a fucking person , and I am not going back to my abusers!” She screams the final words, causing the Director to flinch back .

He runs his hands through his red hair, mussing it up. “I know this isn’t ideal-”

“Isn’t ideal?” she scoffs. “What, it’s not ideal that you’re going to send me back to be raped, beaten, kicked, and choked?

It’s not ideal that you’ll be putting me in the hands of men who see me as nothing more than a bargaining chip?

While you go home to your Alphas, you’ll sleep soundly knowing that I am being tortured? ”

He blanches. “That’s not what I’m saying, but the law-”

“Fuck the law!” she screeches. “Fuck the law, fuck you, and fuck anyone who thinks that I cannot make my own decisions!” She starts clawing at her neck, then pulling at the corset she still wears. “I won’t go back. You can’t make me. I’ll kill myself.”

“Alex,” Quinton says softly. “We won’t let them take you.”

“I won’t let him take me!” she shouts. I barely blink, and she’s over the railing, tackling Bradley to the floor of the tent. She pins him down by the hips with her thighs, as he fights and bucks underneath her.

When her hands close around his neck, my stomach swoops, and I’m on my feet.

“Dario!” I shout, unable to take my eyes off her.

He swears, and both of us leap over the railing.

It’s my worst fucking nightmare.

Alex is an Omega in Storm.

I band my arms around her waist as she pulls at my arms and kicks out. Dario grabs her feet and hauls her away from Bradley. The Director scrambles backward, chest heaving, and pulls out his phone.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Dario shouts, dropping Alex’s legs to run to him and slap the phone out of his hand. “Do you think calling in someone to sedate and take her away is going to make this better? Do you know nothing about your own designation?”

“If she’s in Storm-”

“If she’s in Storm, she needs to be with her scent matches. She doesn’t need to be carted away to some hospital to be studied,” I snap.

I’m vaguely aware of the rest of my pack making soothing noises and purrs, and I’m sure they’re probably on their way down here to help.

But in my gut, in the part of me that makes me ‘me’, I know there is no one who can get her out of this but my brother and I.

It’s almost poetic, this moment.

My arms are around the body of my Omega, who is screaming and wailing in a way my father never did. She’s not in control of herself. Not right now.

But she’s not hurting me. She’s fighting like a wildcat, sure.

But she’s not harming me.

“Alex,” I say on an exhale. “Alex, baby, I won’t let him take you.” I rub my cheek on the top of her head, scent marking her and reminding her who I am.

I thought I’d be more afraid.

So many times throughout my life have I imagined this moment. The moment I let an Omega into my life, into my heart, and they turn, twisting into something feral and dangerous, and harm me or my brother.

When Alex’s back arches and she screams, a sound that will no doubt haunt my nightmares as it breaks my heart, I notice a lack of pheromones from her. Her chocolate cake scent should be burnt and bitter, the cream spoiled, and the cherries rotten.

But there is nothing.

My father smelled like sweet vanilla custard, and my mother like a creamy latte. I remember those scents swirling together and spoiling, the tang of copper overtaking them as I huddled with Dario.

And yet there are none of Alex’s pheromones to be found.

I don’t allow myself the time to process that, filing it away as something better off unknown.

Dario is back, pressing himself against our Omega’s front, squeezing her between us. When we lock eyes, I’m surprised at how stricken my brother’s face is. He’s shaking, eyes glassy, and I realize I’m not the only one who held onto this fear.

He told me time and time again how rare Omega Storm was and that it wasn’t something we needed to worry about.

Yet here we are, back where we were twenty-one years ago.

It’s different this time, though.

This time, it’s our Omega.

And there is no one better to take care of her than us.

Dario starts to purr, but it’s broken, a staccato that showcases how scared he is. I join in, my urge to calm her instinctual and undeniable.

She’s crying, her body heaving as she swears and curses. She’s not making sense anymore. Every few seconds, I can make out a word, and I try to piece together exactly what she’s trying to communicate with us.

“Hurt…”

“…no..”

“…please…”

“Fucker…”

“Assholes!”

Okay, I’m starting to think she’s not saying anything other than insults directed at the Designation Director and her old pack.

It’s been over five minutes, and I’m starting to wonder if I’m a failure of an Alpha for not being able to bring her out of this. Shouldn’t my pheromones be enough to calm her? That’s what they say, right? That an Omega in Storm can only be calmed down by their scent matched Alpha’s pheromones?

“It’s not working,” Dario says, mirroring my thoughts.

The other three members of our pack have taken to restraining and protecting Warner Bradley because, despite how much I hate that fucker for immediately bending over to capitulate to the demands of abusers, Alex won’t be able to forgive herself if something happens to him.

I try to remember what it felt like to give up control of my body to my Alpha instincts when I found Alex passed out on the floor of her bathroom months ago. That part of me that knew exactly what to do to take care of his Omega.

When I finally let go of my fear and worry that something will happen to me, it’s as if there is a whisper in my ear telling me exactly what I need to do.

I grab Alex’s hair, not roughly but enough to hold her attention, and wrench her head to the side. Before I have a chance to second-guess my instincts, I bury my teeth into her neck.

Her knees buckle, and she takes my brother and me to the ground with her. I don’t let go of my grip on her neck, feeling feral and animalistic, but knowing it’s the only thing that can help her.

Dario sees what I’m doing, and though he doesn’t know why I’m doing it, he doesn’t question it. I have no doubt my actions are confusing everyone around me, but I block them out, focusing only on my Omega as she starts to slacken under the pressure of my teeth.

An Alpha bite does nothing for a bond. Absolutely jack shit. If it did, we’d have an epidemic of Omegas forcibly bonded. Sure, they would be able to reject a bond, but it’s not without risk. And if they were in heat, who knows if they’d have the ability to?

While I may not be capable of bonding her with my bite, something is unfolding between the two of us. It’s like our hindbrains are talking to one another directly in this moment, and my Alpha is telling her Omega everything she needs to know.

She’s safe.

We’ll never let them take her.

We need her.

I need her.

She’s loved.

I love her.

I love her.

I love her.

Holy fucking shit, I love her.

As soon as that realization hits, I know I can loosen my grip on her neck. Dario takes a step back, and Alex exhales loudly.

I can see the moment she realizes what happened. Her forehead wrinkles, and her eyes widen in fear.

Before she can freak out, I gather her in my arms and turn her around, burying her face in my neck and wrapping her legs around my waist.

“You’re okay,” I tell her softly. “You’re okay. We’re here. We’re not going anywhere. You’re safe.”

“Safe,” she whispers, nuzzling up against me. Her scent is faint, but returning, and I feel the muscles in my back relax .

She’s back with me now.

Warner Bradley is saying something, and I hear Jude raise his voice, but I can’t make out the individual words because Alex is purring so loudly that it rattles my body.

“Dexter.” I can’t look down at her because her grip on my back is so tight, her face buried so deep in my neck that I’m nearly immobilized. “I was in Storm.”

“You were.”

“I was so scared.”

“Me too,” I admit. “But I knew you’d come back to me.”

“How? How’d you know?” She runs her hands up and down my back, fingers digging into the loose tank top I threw on after our routine.

“Just did. Same way I know that I love you.”

Her breath hitches, and her hands still. I don’t think she was expecting me to say that. “Mean it?”

“I do.”

“Good.” Her teeth dig into the crux of my neck and shoulder blade, and I have to hold back a pleasured sound that wants to escape. I can feel her bond snaking through me, filling my veins and transforming me.

Could I reject it?

I’m sure. It’s a failsafe of our designations.

But I open myself up to it immediately, letting it settle in my chest. When it does, something incredible happens.

I can feel her. Alex’s emotions come barrelling through me. There is fear, embarrassment, and a little bit of pain, but also joy and contentment.

What surprises me most is the sudden rush of feelings that I know belong to my pack. Somehow, through Alex, I can sense the faintest whispers of their emotions.

Jude is pissed, but relieved .

Quinton is exhausted from restraining Bradley.

Matteo is curious, as if this is a new sensation for him.

And my brother.

My twin.

The person who knows me better than anyone else. Who has been there for me my entire life, quietly shouldering so much so that things can be easier for me? Who has sacrificed for my happiness and always supported me, even when I was wrong.

My brother’s overwhelming pride brings me to tears.

“This is new,” Matteo mumbles, rubbing his chest. “You’re all here now.”

Pain flares in the bond from Alex, and I look down to see her twisted in my lap. She’s panting, eyes squeezed tight. She’s warm to the touch, and her scent has exploded.

“Alex?” I ask, brushing her bangs from her face. “Are you okay?”

“No,” she says through gritted teeth. “Storm only happens during pre-heat.” She winces and digs her fingers into my back. “And it appears that the rush of pheromones from all of you, from the bond, has pushed me there.”

“What?” Quinton shouts, rushing away from the Designation Director and dropping to his knees beside me. “You’re in heat?”

“Will be soon. Get me to my nest, please.”

“Wait!” Warner Bradley shouts. “I can’t ignore this extradition order.”

“You can,” Jude snaps. “You can’t interfere with an Omega in heat. As her pack, her bonded Alphas, if you try to take her away, we have the right to defend her by whatever means necessary.” When did Jude research Omega laws?

He pushes past the Director and comes behind him, manhandling me to my feet while Alex stays wrapped around me. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we need to take care of our Omega.”