Page 119 of Unhinged
Sixty points.
Game.
The whole place explodes—brothers whooping, stomping boots against the floor, smacking tables. Nitro cusses. Suave groans like he just got stabbed.
Nitro goes next, and it’s too damn high—clips the twenty-four. Suave follows, but he flinches on the throw and hits the fifty-seven, way too low.
Gidge, smug little shit, finger-guns the crowd, spins on her heel and throws her arms around both of ‘em. "Next time, fellas," she says, all sugar and bite. "Now pay up."
They grumble but reach for their wallets like good losers. Hand over a crisp hundred each. She tucks the bills into her bra like a goddamn hustler, and I can't stop laughing. I shake my head.
"Well, boys," I say, pushing off the bar, "guess it's time for me to tell our omega what I did. Pray for me. If she looks like she's gonna stab me, just make sure she don't hit anything critical. Like my heart or dick. I need those."
The brothers laugh, but I ain't joking. Gidge is a whole storm wrapped in a tiny body. You cross her wrong; you feel it.
I grab her hand, twirl her around into me, her laugh bubble-light against my chest. She's beaming up at me like she just found a new game to win. Her scent wraps around me, thicker now, sweet and sharp and pure omega, making my skin itch with the need to pull her closer.
"Quite the dart shark, baby," I murmur.
She shrugs, a little shy. "Played a lot between training sessions at the gym."
Before I can say more, Gears slides up behind her, bold as hell, sandwiching her between us. His mouth dips low by her ear. A low rumble slips out of me before I can stop it, instinct clawing up, wanting everyone to see she’s ours.
"What about this, omega?" he murmurs, his voice a rough scrape that makes my damn spine stiffen. "You like being between your alphas?"
Gidge shivers, just the tiniest bit, as his hands trail slowly down her arms and stop at her wrists. She nods, so small it’s barely there.
"Rumor has it," he says, "your heat’s coming fast. Was someone a naughty little omega, stealing things for her nest today?"
"Yes," she breathes.
"Why didn’t you tell us?" I ask, voice lower now.
She blinks up at us, lashes fluttering. "’Cause... I haven't had a heat since… that night. I've been on suppressants and blockers. I didn’t know…"
My hands fist at my sides.
"You didn’t think we’d want to ride your heat out with you?" Gears growls low, nipping at her ear. "You're ours, Brydgett," he rumbles. "We've given you time. We’ve given you space. But you’re our Kismet. We’ll be there for your heat. Fuck you slow or fast—whichever way you need."
She lets out a sound, small and broken and needy.
"Is that what you want, baby?" I say, feeling Arrow move up beside me now. "You want your alphas to fuck you through your heat?"
She nods.
"Words, Gidge," Arrow demands.
"Yes," she pants. "I want that."
"We’ll have Mom take care of Judge," Arrow says, all business now. "He’ll be fine. But no omega of ours is suffering her heat in the clubhouse with all these fucking vultures around. You’re a biker queen, baby. You deserve better."
She peers up at me, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.
"Don’t worry, Gidge," I promise, thumb stroking her jaw. "You’ll see. We’ll show you tomorrow."
"Okay," she whispers, trust so raw it damn near kills me.
I steel myself. This is it.
