Page 39 of Unhinged Omega

"Why do you even care?" I ask, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. "You're just the middleman, aren't you? Either my father will come for me, or you'll sell me to the highest bidder. What difference does it make to you?"

He goes rigid, his shoulders tensing. Wish I could see his eyes behind those red lenses. He's an extra dick for not taking them off when he's talking to me.

"I don't," he snaps, but there's an edge to his voice. He stalks toward the elevator, his movements sharp and agitated. "And the sooner they come to pick you up, the better. I've got enough problems without adding Arthur Maybrecht's spoiled brat to the list."

I stumble out of bed to try to follow him on unsteady legs, my muscles protesting after another extended period of disuse. "You can't just leave me in your fucking evil villain lair!"

"I can, actually," he says, hitting the button for the elevator. The doors slide open with a soft ding that feels like mockery. "And if you keep complaining, I'll be more than happy to put you back in the basement."

"You wouldn't dare," I hiss, but he's already stepping into the elevator.

The last thing I see is his glaring face as the doors close between us. I grab the nearest object—a bottle of expensive-looking liquor he was probably saving for some special occasion—and hurl it at the elevator doors as they touch. It shatters spectacularly, amber liquid running down the metal like tears.

I rush to the elevator and jam my fingers into the call button, but nothing happens. The bastard must have a key or some override.

"Damn it!" I slam my palm against the doors in frustration.

Defeated, I drag myself back to the massive bed with one foot still asleep and flop back onto the mattress, immediately regretting it when his scent washes over me. It's everywhere—in the coat, in the blankets, in the very air I breathe. And worst of all, it's soothing when I want to stay angry.

I grab his coat, fully intending to shred it to pieces. My nails tear into the expensive fabric with savage satisfaction, but then something strange happens. Instead of continuing to destroy it, I find myself carefully arranging the torn pieces among the other blankets and clothes.

I catch myself halfway through making what can only be described as a nest and freeze as realization dawns.

"Oh, fuck," I whisper into the empty room.

I'm nesting.

The pills my father insisted I take—the ones that supposedly help with my "episodes"—they had another purpose. One that Monty always found convenient, unless he was having one of his parties.

They kept me from going into heat.

And I haven't had a dose in over a week, give or take.

I push away from the bed, from the half-formed nest, my heart racing. This can't be happening. Not here. Not now. Especially not this close to the monster from my nightmares.

The Knight.

That name feels like a cruel kind of irony, but I'm not sure if the joke is on me or him.

Maybe both.

Chapter

Ten

RAVEN

"Are we there yet?" I drawl, propping my boots up on the console of Geo's beat-up SUV.

The leather of my shoes is scuffed and worn, much like the rest of me after the past week. I crunch down on another stale cracker I stole from a vending machine at the last gas station we stopped at, savoring the salt on my tongue. It's not exactly gourmet cuisine, but it's something to focus on besides the gnawing ache in my chest.

Geo's knuckles whiten on the steering wheel and his eye—the one not hidden beneath that patch that wasn't there the last time I saw him—narrows. "I swear to all that's unholy, Raven, if you ask me that one more time, I'll stop this car and tie you to the roof."

"Don't tempt me," I scoff. "It's been months since anyone's tied me up. I'm starting to feel neglected."

Geo grimaces, his gaze fixed firmly on the dusty road ahead. "You're impossible."

"So I've been told," I quip, but my heart's not really in it.

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