Dancing gods 2 demons of.., p.6
Rebel & Her Knights, page 6
Scott’s eyes flash. “He will because I don’t lie.”
“Then he’ll punish you.”
I imagine all the ways that traditionalists punish Betas in their packs. How Dad disciplined his own Beta. I wince at the memory of the crack of the belt.
I can’t let that happen to Scott.
It’s not fair, when it’s my fault. I’ve been trying to use him to get information on Falcon.
Now I feel terrible.
Scott’s expression gentles. “Do you always worry this much? I won’t be punished. You don’t have to protect everybody.”
Yeah, I do.
When my pocket pings, it takes a moment to realize what it is.
My phone has a signal again!
And it’s just received a message…
I scramble off Scott’s lap.
He looks at me, startled. “What’s wrong? Can I help?”
My chest tightens, but I force myself to turn away from him and dart across the road.
“You don’t have to protect everybody,” I call to him, even though it hurts deep inside to throw his own words back at him.
Scott’s the Knight’s personal bodyguard.
A worker for the enemy.
That makes him my enemy.
Fuck, I wish that he wasn’t.
I snatch my phone out of my pocket.
Dread roils in my guts. I’m shaking but I force myself to press on the newest text.
It’s from Lucian.
“Be okay,” I mutter under my breath.
My lungs are burning.
I won’t have a panic attack.
Not now.
I rest my forehead against the purple door of the HQ.
Is this a distress call? Has Lucian been hurt, caught, or worse?
At last, I read the text that I’ve been waiting for with such desperate, aching anticipation:
Songbird is freed. For Omegas who are unable to raise your voice: You are still heard.
5
Omega Society HQ, Haven
“Then the screens went blank, and I almost had a heart attack because I thought…”
I can’t say it.
I’ll never say that I thought Lucian was caught — dead — because it hurts too much.
Like my heart is being squeezed in a vice.
Yet every mission risks my brother, and that’s always been his choice. We both ran to be allowed to make our own decisions. But that doesn’t stop the fear swallowing my voice.
Lucian glances at me, concerned. He pushes his golden hair out of his face with the back of his hand.
He’s standing at the ancient stove in the kitchen. He’s dressed in a casual black t-shirt and jeans, cooking delicious smelling omelets for our post-mission victory breakfast. There are smudged shadows under his wide, tawny eyes, but despite his exhaustion, he looks flushed and exhilarated.
Partly because he’s an adrenaline junkie, and partly because he survived.
But only just.
My gaze darts to the shallow cut over his eyebrow, which is surrounded by a purple bruise.
I clench my fist. What asshole hurt my brother?
Lucian shoots me a grin, gently prodding at the egg in the pan. He hops up and down on a high from his successful mission. He’s humming the heavy metal band Sepultura’s “Refuse/Resist” like his war cry against the system.
After last night and rescuing Roman from the Institute, he’s earned it.
Lucian’s eyes are bright with a look that he gets, when he doesn’t sleep. He pulls these all-nighters more frequently than can be healthy.
Bright morning light from the domed window, which looks out over Bond Street, blazes Lucian’s hair into a halo, while he cooks. The entire warm blond oak kitchen is filled with a comforting glow. The stone floor is bright with shaggy, violet rugs, and the cabinets are painted with roses.
When I first moved into the HQ, I spent my spare time painting its walls and surfaces. It calmed me. I smile, remembering the way that Lucian, Angel, and I managed to get as much paint on our clothes and hair as on the cabinets, but at the same time, how much we laughed. More importantly, there was nobody to scold or punish us for it.
Nobody to tell Lucian that he should be the one giving the orders, Angel that she should be more sensible, or me that I shouldn’t have wrecked my pretty clothes.
“I didn’t know what’d happened and I was scared.” I dive across the kitchen, wrapping my arms around Lucian.
I nuzzle against his neck, reveling in being wrapped in his safe Limoncello scent.
He draws back, resting his forehead against mine. “You are still heard.”
I repeat back the mantra that we always say to each other: ritualistic and safe. “You are still heard.”
He smiles, happily. “Hey, I’m right here, sis.”
“You are now.”
“Don’t pout. It looks like you’re making a duck face.”
I tickle him in retaliation, and he struggles not to drop his spatula.
“Don’t distract the chef,” he protests, “unless you want a burned breakfast.”
I stop tickling because Lucian’s breakfasts are too good to screw-up.
He sprinkles cheese, ham, and mushrooms into the center of the egg as a filling.
“So, what happened last night?” I stroke my fingers tenderly over Lucian’s injured eye.
Lucian flinches. “We rescued Roman with one or two…minor…hitches.”
“Minor like almost getting caught and having our asses handed to us.” Angel strolls into the kitchen. “But it was worth it to save Songbird.”
Angel starts to sing Roman’s latest song in a seductive, breathy voice that makes her sound like she should be in a smoky jazz bar in New Orleans. I’ve always been envious of her talent, even though she barely seems aware of it.
She’s like a beautiful force of nature that you can’t look away from, even though she may tear you apart.
Angel’s a Beta and should be a calming presence.
She isn’t.
Just like her bright red dress, matching lipstick, and sweep of black hair that gleams like onyx, she’s quirky, sassy, and everything that a Beta shouldn’t be.
She walks to the beat of her own drum.
Its why she’s my best friend.
Angel sips at a martini, as she throws herself down dramatically on the bench in front of the large oak table in the center of the room.
She doesn’t look like she’s been to bed either. It probably feels like evening to her as well.
Lucian pulls out of my arms to point his spatula at Angel. “Keep it down. Roman’s only just fallen asleep in the secret nest. I don’t want to wake him.”
The secret nest is a room that we created, which is hidden behind a wall. We hide our newly rescued Omegas there and have decked it out with as many pillows and soft fabrics as we can. Psychologically, it helps traumatized Omegas to nest.
Angel’s mouth snaps shut. “Tough audience. I should’ve known that it’d be better to restrict my singing to the shower, where I can enjoy my private thoughts about the pretty Songbird like you.”
Lucian’s eyes widen, and he reddens. “Does everybody in the fucking house know about…that?”
Angel laughs, delighted. “Well, I didn’t. It was only a joke. But I do now.”
“Well played.” Lucian turns back to the stove, flipping the omelet, before sliding it onto a plate with practiced ease and passing it to me.
I carry it over to Angel, and Lucian pours more egg into the pan.
Angel’s eyes light up. “You are a king amongst Alphas, Luc.”
His lips quirk. “I don’t know why I’m single.”
“Probably because we’re running an illegal resistance, need to hide our true identities, and spend all our time trying not to be caught by the authorities.”
“Oh yeah, silly me.” Lucian stares down at the pan; his brow furrows.
Sometimes, Angel can be more brutal with her humor than she means to be. It’s like a blade.
I can feel the stab of her words as well; the wound deep inside.
I rub Lucian’s shoulder. “You know, we don’t have to be alone.” I can’t forget the way that Prince made me feel last night and then Scott as well. I’ve never felt such a longing to bond. “If you like Roman…”
“Don’t,” Lucian snaps. His expression becomes serious. “You didn’t see the condition Roman was in last night, when we found him. Shit, it was… It took me two hours just to treat the welts and… How could anyone do that?”
Because that’s what the Institute does.
It’s why we’re fighting.
Not against our dynamics, who we are, or Alphas in general.
We’re fighting the system that created the Institute and doesn’t promote loving pack bonds.
One day, our voices will be heard.
I massage Lucian’s stiff shoulders, hoping that my scent will help him relax. His own scent has become sharp with distress.
I shrug. “Perhaps, it’s Sadistic Knothead Syndrome.”
Angel stabs her fork into her breakfast viciously. “A lot of that going around. It must be catching.”
All of a sudden, Lucian twists to me and burrows his nose in my neck.
I glance at him, confused.
After a moment, he pulls back. His face is scrunched in disgust.
“What is it?” I demand. “I have washed today.”
Earlier, I almost pulled on the same white shirt as yesterday, just to mess with Lucian, but at the last minute, I wore a casual pale blue summer dress.
“You smell of Beta,” he explains, before cocking his brow at Angel. “And not this one.”
I lick my dry lips, waiting for him to slide the finished omelet onto a plate and pass it to me with a fork, before I answer.
“Famous omelet a la Luc coming up.” He hustles me to sit at the table, before straddling the bench and looking at me expectantly.
“The Beta part comes after the screens went blank.” I take a mouthful of fluffy egg. Then I moan in delight. “So, how about you tell me that part first?”
“Busted,” Angel mutters.
Lucian exchanges a glance with Angel. “It was close last night, probably the closest it’s ever been. Roman was locked down tight with security because of his status, celebrity, and value. I think…it’s possible…they were even expecting us.” I stare at him in shock. Yet part of me knew that something felt off about the entire mission. “It could be that someone wanted headlines about the resistance caught, while trying to steal such a famous singer. Did they put Roman in there just to tempt us to break him out or is it all a publicity stunt for the band itself? Either way, the screens blanked on my headcam because my poor head,” he winces, as he touches the cut above his eye, “was slammed by a guard into a wall. Repeatedly.”
I pale, reaching for his hand.
For the first time, the reality sets in that Angel and my brother truly were almost caught last night.
A cold ball forms in my stomach, and my breathing speeds up.
“Hey, look at me.” Angel catches my gaze. “We got out. We’re here, and it’s all good.”
But is it?
It was a frighteningly close call.
“So, how’d you get away?” I push my omelet about my plate, breaking it into small pieces.
The cold ball in my stomach is too large now for me to force anything down my throat.
“It was Roman,” Angel says, gleefully. “He shouted at the guard to get his attention and then high kicked him. The guard was so shocked that an Omega would still fight back after their training that it knocked him to the floor and…” Angel polishes her long nails on the sleeve of her dress. “…I tied up the guard with his own equipment. Don’t you just love dishing out some karma?”
Lucian smirks. “Roman was cutely embarrassed about the kick. I thought I recognized it. He admitted that it was a dance move in one of his famous music videos.”
So, my brother hasn’t watched that music video a lot then.
I smother my laugh in my palm. “Feisty.”
“Actually, bratty but he’ll make someone a beautiful Omega.” Lucian ducks his head.
Angel gives him a knowing look. “You like him.”
Lucian’s lips pinch. “Right now, Roman’s in shock, understandably. He’s vulnerable. What he needs is a steady pack not a modern Scarlet Pimpernel, who’s waging a dangerous campaign.” My chest is tight; my pulse speeds up. He’s right. Prince is right too that we can’t think about being together until…when? Will our struggle ever be over? “We’ve talked about this before. Our Omega Society isn’t enough. What our rescued Omegas need is a way to start new identities with steady packs, who’ll take them in.”
My brow furrows. “Vetted ones.”
“Are we going to dance around the fucking huge elephant in the room all morning?” Angel slams down her fork, and I jump. “Vetted packs and celebrity rescues are great, but we only have funding for our legal front until the end of the month, which is less than two weeks away. You know that the Omega Society isn’t popular. If the Omega Reform Bill doesn’t go through, then traditionalists are going to crap all over any charity that supports Omegas, and that includes us. You know, the Reform Bill was going well, until certain assholes in Senate started speaking against it.”
“Senator fucking Knight,” Lucian growls.
“I’m pretty sure that his name is Falcon,” I offer.
Lucian narrows his eyes and leans closer. “Fucking Falcon works for me. It’s freaky, no one has even seen the Omega who he bonded with last year. Plus, I’ve heard gossip that he’s looking to take another, while keeping his current one hidden away in that massive mansion of his like Alphas used to do in Revolutionary times.” He shudders. “But the really horrifying thing is that he’s becoming a role model for other traditionalists because he has that charming, young I’m the acceptable face of being an knothead thing down.”
Angel takes a deep swig of her martini. “Certain super-rich circles have begun claiming that Omegas shouldn’t be let out of the house during the day, even if they’re bonded. Alphas like that should have their balls or lady parts…” She wrinkles her nose like she’s trying to think up as nasty a punishment as possible. “…removed.”
Succinct and effective.
Lucian and I both wince and cross our legs.
Angel tips her glass at me. “Don’t think that I’ve forgotten about your mystery Beta. Please tell me that you were up to something naughty. Us Betas know wicked tricks with our tongues.”
She waggles her tongue in demonstration, and Lucian deliberately lets his hair hang in front of his face to try and block her out.
I’ve tried that trick before. It never works.
“And please tell me it wasn’t that,” he mutters. “If it was…no details.”
I push my plate away from myself.
Here goes.
“I lost contact with you,” I explain. “I was terrified for you both. There was no phone signal. So, I went outside to try and get one.”
Angel raises her eyebrow. “Shit.”
Lucian blanches. “An unbonded Rej Omega out at night…? Do you know how much of a risk that was?”
He’s not scolding, not really. He’s concerned. But it still hurts.
“Actually, I do. Since I’m the one who chose to take that risk. Since I’m the one who has to live my life. Since I’m the one who loves being an Omega but knows the danger it puts me in from others who’ll use it against me.”
Why am I blinking away tears?
Lucian edges closer to me on the bench. He strokes down my arm, and I nestle closer to him.
“I’m sorry, sis. I’m the one trying to smash those stupid rules, remember? I didn’t make them. I’m sure you were okay.”
I freeze.
Now this is embarrassing.
How do I climb down from my high horse? It’s looking a long way down from here.
I may as well just throw myself off.
“I wasn’t,” I admit. “I was attacked.”
Lucian’s eyes widen. “I’m going to find and kill that fucking Beta.”
I seriously need to learn to speak with more clarity. Haven’t I got Scott in enough trouble already with one pack?
“It wasn’t the Beta,” I blurt, before Lucian can work himself into a rage. He’s already surging with adrenaline from the mission. “It was some drunken Alpha, and the self-defense moves that you taught me almost helped me save myself. Then the Beta, Scott, stepped up and kicked the Alpha’s ass. It turns out…” this is harder to say than I thought it would be; weirdly, it feels like selling Scott out somehow, “he’s the Knight’s bodyguard.”
Lucian scrambles to his feet; he pulls his hand through his hair, until it’s standing up at wild angles. “Fucking Falcon…?”
“Firstly, we’re keeping that as his official name in our files from now on. Secondly, you know how to pick your lovers,” Angel says, dryly.
“He’s not my lover.”
“But you like him.”
“I like Prince too but I can’t have him either.”
Angel’s expression softens; she doesn’t deny it. “I thought that we were the ones who were meant to be on a mission last night.”
“Yours was more James Bond kicking ass mode, and mine was more James Bond spy mode.” I hug my arms around myself. “Scott was protective and looked after me. I only tried to do some careful information gathering. I didn’t take any risks.”
Lucian’s expression darkens. “There’s no such thing as no risk around the Knight pack.” He studies me, alert and intrigued. “They’re one of the most secretive packs there are. Even in press interviews, the Senator doesn’t share anything real, which isn’t spin. Whatever you’ve found out, makes us one step ahead of the resistance’s enemies.”
I push myself up as well and wander to the far side of the kitchen, fiddling with the drawers. It feels weird sharing about Scott.
I owe nothing to the Knight pack.
Yet I don’t want to get Scott into trouble. What if the leak gets traced back to their bodyguard?
The Senator is known for being vicious to those who cross him.
