Page 34 of Prey for Me

He pins my wrist above my head, cupping the back of my neck with his free hand. My scarred, soon to be unmarked neck. I’m not stupid. I’m no idiot. They’ve played me. But I have to keep playing along like I’m the apex’s bonded mate.

“She wanted him?”

“Yes.”

“Why.”

Oh. Maybe he can’t comprehend an omega wanting an beta so bad she was scared to mate an apex alpha? I think, trying to move my neck out of his grasp. But he hooks a thick finger under the collar, tugging it around so his knuckle brushes against the length of my nape.

I shudder from head to toe, remembering those fingers stuffed inside another tight…

“Shit, not again,” he murmurs, and sure enough, I can feel the beginning of another heat, and surely soon, they’ll be thrust into another rut. If they give in. And why, oh why, do I want them to give in?

“She wanted him?”

“What’s wrong with Aiden?”

“Nothing’s wrong with him. But he’s a beta. She would reject an apex alpha for a beta?”

“He protected her first. They just swooped in to claim her after the fact. But he… He went out of his way, even knowing she’s pregnant–” Raphael’s eyes fly open and I cover my mouth.

Stupid, stupid bitch!I meant to keep that a secret.

But instead of ordering her bond ceremony halted or something, Raphael’s eyes mist over like he’s going to… cry? Can he cry? This bastard? Can’t be. But there’s no mistaking the wetness pooling in his brooding gaze that darkens, pupils exploding.

“She’s pregnant and she would’ve rejected an alpha?”

None of them can understand.

“He saved her. He protected her when he didn’t have to. When saving her would just burden him. I mean, this isn’t exactly the place to raise a baby in. And she didn’t want him to be thrown away. She didn’t understand how you all do things here. In our circles, well, betas are disposable,” I explain, but that doesn’t seem to help one bit.

“Saved her? He wanted to fuck her. He might not be able to claim an omega, smell the difference between a heat, but I’m sure Aiden was just as starved for a wet pussy rather than his hand.”

I clench my fists and wince. The swelling’s gone down significantly, but not enough to not hurt. He lifts my hand up, his touch delicate in a way I didn’t think such a large hand could. To my suirpise he lifts my puffy knuckles to his lips.

“You hurt me, and then you comfort me? That’s just called common decency,” he says, throwing my words back into my face.

But they don’t sting, because I don’t get what he means in this context.

And then it clicks.

“You think she pities him?” I ask and he cocks his head. “He got hurt because of her, so it’s only right she comfort him with sex? Are you insane?”

“What else could it be? But even she should have some common sense moving forward.”

“You have a funny way of given good advice.”

It’s the best he’s getting out of me. No way am I complimenting him.

“We’ll watch out for ourselves.”

He just stares and stares, tugging on my collar, holding my hand, as if he doesn’t know if he wants to choke me, comfort me, or both.

“You don’t have to watch out for yourself.”

“Why not?”

Finally, he lets go, and inclines his head to the large square entrance of the warehouse the used to have a metal door maybe, years ago.

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