Page 22 of Ruined By the Mafia Kings
“And completely untouched until now,” Anders finished, the possessive satisfaction in his tone surprising even himself. The knowledge that no alpha had claimed the omega before them, that his responses yesterday had been raw and unfiltered by previous experience, stirred something primal in Anders’ blood.
“Trapped prey,” Wyatt noted, watching the door.
The connecting door to the omega’s quarters opened. The scent hit them first, a concentrated wave of heat pheromones so potent it seemed to change the very composition of the air in the room. Anders’ body responded immediately, his cock hardening, a growl building in his chest that he only partially suppressed.
Ty Hart stood in the doorway, backlit by the soft glow from his quarters. Conall’s chain clinked against the bed frame as he shifted for a better view, his green eyes gleaming with amusement and hunger in equal measure. A full day had passed since their first encounter, and the changes in him were stark and concerning. The flush had deepened on his pale skin, spreading down his neck to disappear beneath the thin t-shirt he wore. His pupils were so dilated that his hazel eyes appeared almost black. His chestnut hair was tousled as if he’d been running his hands through it in frustration.
Despite his obvious discomfort, the omega’s chin lifted in that now-familiar gesture of defiance. “Don’t all get up at once,” he drawled, though the effect was somewhat undermined by the breathless quality of his voice. “I know you’ve been eagerly awaiting my return.”
Anders felt his lips curve into a predatory smile. The little mouse still had his claws out, even as his body betrayed him. “Eager might be overstating it,” he replied, his voice deliberately casual despite the hunger coursing through him. “Though I admit to some curiosity about how long you’d last before crawling back.”
A flush that had nothing to do with his heat spread across Ty’s cheeks, but he held Anders’ gaze with surprising steadiness. “Crawling implies desperation. I prefer to think of this as a strategic retreat from my principles.”
“Call it whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart,” Conall interjected. “Your scent tells a different story.”
Ty’s attention shifted to Conall, his expression sharpening with irritation. “My scent isn’t exactly under my control at the moment, as you well know. But please, continue making observations about my biology. It’s not like I live with it every day or anything.”
The sarcasm in his tone only heightened Anders’ interest. Most people would be too intimidated to speak to them this way, especially in such a vulnerable position. Yet here was this omega, clearly in desperate need yet still maintaining his sharp tongue and quick wit.
“Come here,” Anders commanded, his voice dropping to the register that bypassed rational thought and spoke directly to omega instincts.
He watched with satisfaction as Ty’s body responded instinctively—a slight weakening of the knees, a fresh wave of sweetness in his scent, the barest tilt of his head exposing the scent gland at his neck. But the omega’s mind was still his own, still fighting, still challenging.
“Is that how this works now?” Ty asked, moving forward despite his protest. “You snap your fingers and I come runninglike some trained pet? Should I roll over and beg while I’m at it? Maybe fetch your slippers?”
“If the collar fits,” Anders replied, enjoying the flash of anger that crossed his beautiful features. “Though I imagine you’d look better in a leash than a collar. Something to consider for the future.”
The implication that there would be a future, one where Anders controlled him, wasn’t lost on Ty. His scent spiked with a complex mixture of desire and fear that made Anders’ alpha instincts roar with approval.
“There is no future,” Ty said, stopping beside Anders’ bed. “Just this temporary insanity until De Luca gets what he wants or you escape and kill me. Let’s not pretend otherwise.”
Anders reached out, wrapping his fingers around Ty’s wrist with deliberate slowness. The contact sent a jolt of awareness through his system, the boy’s skin was fever-hot, his pulse racing beneath Anders’ thumb. “So cynical for someone so young,” he murmured, using his grip to tug Ty closer. “Perhaps I have other plans for you.”
Uncertainty flickered across Ty’s features, quickly masked by his usual defiance. “Right. I’m sure ‘torture the omega who helped De Luca’ isn’t at the top of your to-do list. Or wait, maybe it’s filed under ‘recreational activities’ between ‘world domination’ and ‘brooding menacingly.’”
Before Ty could continue his sarcastic tirade, Anders pulled him down onto the bed with a swift movement that belied his supposed injuries. Ty landed half on top of him with a startled gasp, the thin t-shirt riding up to expose the smooth curve of his ass. The position put Anders’ mouth directly beside Ty’s scent gland, and the concentrated sweetness overwhelmed his senses instantly.
“Fuck,” Conall growled from across the room, his voice thick with hunger. “Look at that perfect little ass. Practically begging to be claimed.”
Anders felt his cock throb painfully at his brother’s words, the image of burying himself in that tight heat nearly overwhelming his control. From the corner of his eye, he saw Wyatt shift on his bed, his hand moving beneath the sheet to adjust his own hardening length.
“Your heat’s worse today,” Anders murmured against Ty’s ear, letting his lips brush the sensitive shell. “The little taste I gave you yesterday only made you hungrier, didn’t it? Made you ache for something bigger than my fingers.”
Ty shivered, his body responding eagerly, the reaction soaking through the sheet beneath them. The scent was maddening—richer, sweeter than yesterday, calling to something primal in Anders’ blood.
“That’s not— I didn’t—” Ty tried to deny it, but his body betrayed him, his hips unconsciously grinding down against Anders’ hardness.
“Don’t lie to me,” Anders growled, sinking his teeth into the lobe of Ty’s ear just hard enough to sting. “Your body can’t lie, little mouse, even when your pretty mouth tries to.”
“My body is a traitor,” Ty gasped, trying to maintain his defiance despite the pleasure clearly coursing through him. “Like yours isn’t responding the same way? Your cock seems pretty enthusiastic about the situation, Mr. Iceflare.”
The formal address drew a low chuckle from Anders. “Still using that nickname, I see. It’s growing on me.”
“Would you prefer ‘Alpha Asshole’?” Ty shot back, though the effect was somewhat undermined by the breathy quality of his voice. “Or maybe ‘His Royal Knothead’? I’m open to suggestions.”
Conall’s laugh echoed from across the room. “He’s got you there, Anders. The little mouse still has his claws.”
“And teeth,” Ty added, narrowing his eyes at Conall. “Don’t forget those, Mr. Enigma.”
