Page 67 of Brandy Snap: Part Two
Ijust had to keep breathing through it. I did what I came to do. Technically. I mean, I hadn’t packed a single box, but here I was, hurling myself up the stairs, offering moral support byfinding her prick of a landlord. Then we were done and dusted. Kai and Sin could deal with her for the rest of the two weeks we had to endure her.
Dinner. Ceremony. Then she was gone.
I didn’t give a shit how much my mates wanted her. I didn’t give a flying fuck how Kai had just fucking accepted her in the space of a night after trying to choke her to death the first time we’d met. Whatever the fuck was going on with him, whatever kind of bullshit Sin was pulling, it wouldn’t work on me.
I wasn’t going to deny I wanted her as well, but sticking your dick in someone was a far cry from sharing a fucking bite.
And that was it.
That was the reason I was practically vibrating as I cleared floor after floor of the dingy-as-fuck building that wasn’t good enough for her. And that’s why my head was spinning, because her scent was so fucking rich that all I needed to do was touch those toxic shorts and I would have come away with slick on my fingers.
“Fucking hell,” I growled at my own fucking thoughts as I rounded another stairwell and kept going.
My lips burned with her, and I hadn’t even fucking kissed her. The only way I could get rid of this tension was turning my attention to something else.
I was so glad she only lived on the third floor, so we didn’t have to lug her stuff down all these stairs. But the landlord was twenty-five stories high and living the good life. Good enough that he thought he was safe enough to threaten the supposed mate of the Risler pack.
Supposed.
Supposed.
And it wasn’t going to be anything else.
Camille’s heartbreak when she told me she was leaving. Kai’s fucking face when he came home from the party covered inhickeys and bites. Mel’s desire as she looked up at me in her doorway and fucking growled.
A snarl snapped out of me as I forced down all the bullshit whirling around inside me and I finally reached the top floor, lightly panting and furious as fuck.
I banged on the door to the guy who had even dared come near her.
I was only pissed off because my mates were obsessed with her. And because this guy was blackmailing an omega. It didn’t have a fucking thing to do with Mel. I was just being an alpha.
“Well, that was fast,” a muffled voice chuckled behind the door. It clicked open, his words becoming clearer. “You couldn’t resist the aura of a real alpha, could you?”
The sight of his face falling from a twisted smirk to shock was enough to get me started. Until I rammed my palms against the door, throwing it open and knocking him backwards.
“Tell me who’s the real alpha,” I said as I stepped into an over-decorated shitstorm of a penthouse.
“Who are you!?” he shouted as he stumbled, catching himself on a black and gold granite bar top behind him. There was a sharp clatter as he hit two matching stools on his way back.
“I’m the fucking alpha,” I said, slamming the side of my fist against the door so it flew, banging against the wall on my left.
A proper scan of the room told me everything I needed to know.
Too much money was poured into the wrong things, and that was why there were three omegas around a table with squares of powder, syringes and tubes.
One of them lay horizontal, passed out on the sofa, while the two slumped spread-eagled on the floor with their backs against the couch, staring at me with empty eyes.
And the fucking scents layering the place were enough to make me snarl.
The garishness of the flat was nearly the same as the room my parents used to welcome business partners. Except my mum was sane enough to hire designers, so that didn’t make it look like an LA hooker’s apartment.
He scrabbled around the bar top, finally landing on a cocktail stirrer. The thin blade and a pointed tip made a good weapon, but he had a higher chance of being stabbed by it than stabbing me.
I could be making an assumption; one of the omegas by the huge floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto the distant London skyline could be the landlord. If not for the fact he was the only alpha in the place, and the fucking idiot had the gold winged logo from the thick chain nestled against his hairy chest and poking through his plush black dressing gown plastered on every surface in the room.
I couldn’t scowl any harder.
As soon as the landlord brandished his weapon, I flung myself at him. I gave no fucks about the skinny omegas still shooting up as a snarl ripped from me, and my fist sailed straight into his face.
