Page 79 of Unmarked

Down the hall, behind a steel door built to survive the apocalypse and probably two minor wars, Lucian Vale is doing his best impression of a brooding statue while the omega he definitely doesn’t want to ruin is panting his name like it’s the last word she’ll ever say.

It’s hot. It’s annoying.

It’sfucking torture.

“Lucky bastard,” I mutter to myself.

And he is. I don’t care how dark and broody and holier-than-everyone Lucian is - if she’s moaning for him like that, he’s doing something right.

Not that he’s inside. Oh no. Lucian’s gotcontrol.Big, dominant, iron-willed"I-don’t-share"energy.So instead, he’s standing there like a goddamn statue and getting off to the sound of her falling apart.

I’d laugh, but my cock’s already hard as fuck justthinking about it.

I’m fine, though.

Totally fine.

I bite into my apple with unnecessary aggression. Crunch loud.

Take that, health food.

My cock twitches again just thinking about the sounds coming out of that room. I swear to god, if Theo says the wordrestraintone more time, I will actively choke myself with a protein bar.

I toss the core into the sink and wander down the corridor. Realistically, I’ve got nothing better to do than vibe in this ridiculous palace of glass and brooding.

I'm itching to get out. I don’t belong here. I belong in a gym. Or a bar. Or my bed -

With company.

God, I miss my bed. More importantly, I miss the very bendy ballet instructor I was supposed to see three nights ago. And maybe the twins from the kickboxing class after that.

Sorry, ladies. Alpha lockdown. Vale’s rules - no touching, no leaving, no unsupervised knotting.

It’s like the worst health retreatever.All scent diffusers, high testosterone, and zero orgasms.

All this building alpha tension, and no outlet.

I train out of The Pit - a hybrid gym downtown that specializes in functional fitness, combat drills, and the kind of sparring that ends in blood, bruises, and very sexy limps.

I like my bruises big and my opponents bigger. You can’t run security contracts in this city without making a few friends in low places, and cracking a few ribs in the ring to earn respect.

I've done both.

A lot.

Hell, I’ve got deals running through half the private security firms downtown. My name gets whispered when someone needs a quiet fix, a clean sweep, or an escort who won’t blink at a body in the trunk.

That beta back at the gala? The one who tried to call in Rhea like she was contraband?

He’s lucky I just broke his nose. I know people who specialize in vanishing people.

It's hard not to fantasize about that when I’ve been locked in here, taking shifts like it's a military operation, playing omega watch while Lucian paces like a pissed-off general and Rhea slowly burns through every goddamn phase of her heat.

She’s been reaching out through that half-formed bond the whole time - soft, aching pulses of instinct that I know she doesn’t fully understand.

It’s not even deliberate - it’s justthere. Tugging at something deep in my chest like a hook under skin. A heartbeat out of sync with mine, whisperingcome back, come back, come back.

And it’s taking every shred of control I have not to reach right back. Not to answer her.

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