Page 16 of Unbonded
“Really?” I’m shaking now, and while I know he can feel it, I can’t listen to him lecture me for a second longer. “That’sexactlywhat you want. For me to be so desperate, I’ll fuck you in exchange for my debt!”
“Watch your fucking mouth…”
I try to pull away, but he drags me against his chest, his thumbnail biting cruelly into the Band-Aid on my neck. I cry out at the flare of pain, but he smothers the sound with his mouth, his thick tongue pushing between my clenched lips. His meaty scent floods my senses, making my stomach roil, and I try to push him off me. But he just holds me tighter, and I feel furious tears prick my eyes as his hands squeeze my ass. He’s rubbing his erection against my stomach, and even through the perfume and suppressants I can smell my bitter scent, the opposite of aroused. It’s like sucking down burning plastic and he finally pulls away, his eyes enraged. “Don’t act like you don’t want this, you fucking tease!”
I would laugh in his face if I wasn’t so close to tears. I’ve told him a dozen different ways that I’llneverbe interested in him, but he can’t get it through his thick skull that an unbonded omega would turn him down.
What other option does an outcast have, after all?
“Eight sharp at my club tonight,” he says, finally pushing me away and wrinkling his nose. “Wear that sexy dress I bought you, and find some perfume to cover your goddamn stench.”
CHAPTER SIX - KATE
As my so-called contractor storms out the front door, I collapse onto the bottom step, too shattered to stay upright. A wild, hunted sound twists out of me, making my scent gland throb, and I drop my head into my shaking hands. I know I should go to the cops and demand a restraining order, but what’s the point? Stanley King is an upstanding alpha, while I’m the omega who was thrown away by one of his peers. I’m pretty sure the cops would just deliver me to Stanley’s doorstep in one of their squad cars, patting him on the back and chuckling about flighty omegas.
When I gain the energy to peel myself off the floor, I send Dash a text telling him I’m unwell and asking to postpone our date for a couple of days. It’s not exactly a lie, but when he tries to call me, I let it go to voicemail. It’s a cowardly move, but I know that if I hear his voice, I’ll fall apart. And there’s no way I’m dragging Dash into this mess with Stanley King.
Exhausted, I make myself a sandwich and force myself to eat it. As I gather up the Safe Haven information packet and shove it back into the envelope, I’m very aware of the irony. A man who’s supposed to help me just forced his way into my home, provingit’s the very opposite of a refuge, and now I’m thinking about selling my heat to a pack of strangers…
I don’t realize I’m crying until my tears start to plink on my empty plate.
How the hell did I get here?
A dozen answers churn through my brain before I settle on one.
Because I was a young omega in love with a manipulative alpha.
As I look around the empty house, Lachlan’s words feel strangely comforting, and I pick up my phone, my resolve hardening. Swiping at my damp cheeks, I check his business card on the front of the Safe Haven envelope and send him a text, asking if we can take my application to the next stage. Even though it’s been a few days, he replies immediately, suggesting Friday after work. It’s the same time I planned to catch up with Dash, but I just give a hollow laugh and tell him I’ll meet him then.
My life might be spiraling out of control, but at least I can do something about the nightmare of my looming heat.
Although, as I drag myself out of the house just before eight, I feel frozen down to my bones. My instincts tell me it’s not the flimsy excuse for a dress I’m wearing under my coat, or the fact that the cab driver insists on blasting the A/C. There’s a cold sweat crawling over my skin, and the sandwich I forced myself to eat feels like a clenched fist in my belly. Waves of nausea are lapping against my bond scar, and for a horrible moment I wonder if the phantom pain of my unbonding is back. For months after Lee left, I thought I could feel his ghost in our ruined bond, leaving me so wrung out I had to take a sleeping pill just to get through the night.
Wrapping an arm across my churning stomach, I can’t quite swallow back a moan. The driver has been shooting me troubledglances ever since he picked me up, and when we pull up at the curb outside Stanley’s club, he turns and says, “Are you alright, miss? Maybe it’s not my business, but you smell like you’re in pain.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, but my voice cracks as I stare out the window at the club. It looks as sleazy as the dress Stanley made me wear, and I clutch my coat tighter as I climb out. The street smells like alpha sweat and trash cans, and a fresh wave of nausea almost puts me on my knees. I stagger towards the wall, but before I can reach it, a shadow falls over me, a hand on my elbow drawing me away from the club. “You’re not going in there.”
“What?” I look up into the alpha’s stony face, but he’s steering me over to a sleek SUV before it clicks where I’ve seen him before. “Mr. Webber?”
“Bram,” he replies as he opens the passenger door, motioning for me to climb inside. “Please. Just let me get you off this sidewalk.”
“But…” I look back at the club, wondering how to describe the predicament I’m in.
“Just sit with me for a moment, Kate. I promise you; it’ll be okay.”
I don’t know why I believe him, but my nausea fades as soon as I climb into his car. It’s Bram-sized, and his warm leather scent surrounds me as he settles into the driver’s seat. I turn to look at him curiously. “Is this just a coincidence?”
He rests his large hands on the steering wheel but doesn’t start the car. “No. I was in the area when Dash told me you were sick. I thought I’d stop by and see if you needed anything, but then I passed you in the cab. I thought maybe you were going to urgent care, so I followed you.”
I can feel the shame burning in my cheeks. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“You didn’t blow Dash off to go dancing in that place?”
He nods towards the club, and the laugh that rips out of me sounds like broken glass. “Definitely not. I’m here because I didn’t have a choice.”
He goes still, his eyes dipping down to my lap. The coat has slipped open a little, giving him a clear view of the tight dress plastered to my body. It’s the kind of cheap, clinging fabric I’d never work with, let alone wear, and I feel my cheeks burn with humiliation. When I tug my coat closed, his gaze jerks back to the club door. “Do you work there?”
I’m pretty sure he knows it’s a strip club, but there’s no judgment in his voice. Just a cold, steady anger that has his knuckles turning white on the wheel. “Not how you think, but I’m here because of a debt.”
