Page 13 of A Murderous Omega

“And you are?”

“My name’s Wren. I can see why she’s a mess over you,” she murmured. “Both of you.”

“Oh?” Lark was a mess over us? My heart pounded, hope flickering in my chest.

“Don’t fish for compliments,” the woman said as I spun her around the room, her lips tilting up into a smile that didn’t meet her eyes.

“Where is she?”

“Safe,” Wren said. “She’d be safer if you idiots would leave her the fuck alone.”

“Is that what she wants?”

Wren shrugged. “I’m just the messenger.”

When the dance ended, she slipped out of my arms, and no matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t find her again.

By the time the evening ended, Conor and I had danced with a handful of omegas, each one more hopeful than the last, none of whom were Lark.

We sat in silence in the car, the ghosts of a dozen omega perfumes clinging to our clothes.

“I fucking hate this,” Conor muttered the moment we returned to our penthouse apartment. “Hate pretending to be interested. Hate that none of them smell right. Hate that I keep looking for her in rooms where she’d never fucking be.” His voice cracked. “I fucking miss her.”

“We’re going to get her back,” I promised. “We’ve got a target she can’t resist. And that woman today⁠—”

“She said Lark was a mess over us,” Conor said, scrubbing his hair. “Fuck! She’s our fucking mate!”

“Now we have to convince her of that,” I answered drily, even if I was as much of a wreck over Lark as he was.

Conor dragged me through our bedroom and into our massive bathroom, one we’d built assuming that one day, we’d pack up with an omega.

Desperate, he tore my clothes off me, buttons scattering on the marble floor. “I hate the smell of those other omegas,” he snarled, his fingers digging hard enough into my back to bruise. “Hate the smell on you, hate the smell on me, hate that she might smell it on us.” His pupils were blown wide with the same manic edge he had right before a kill.

Fuck, he was unraveling.

“Stop,” I said, cupping his chin and forcing him to meet my eyes. “We’re going to catch her, we’re going to claim her, and we’re going to keep her.”

Conor took a deep breath, the wildness in his eyes fading. “I haven’t killed in a month, since she left,” he said quietly. His hands shook, from restraint or need, I couldn’t tell. “And I know it’s because you don’t want to do it without her. But I can feel it crawling under my skin—the itch, the need to hunt, to hurt—” He cut himself off, jaw clenched. “It’s getting harder.”

“I know.” I opened my arms to him, and pulled him into a deep hug. “Soon. I promise.” I tugged on his hair, and he opened his mouth to mine, a wild and frantic kiss that revealed how close to the edge he was.

Instead of giving into the urge to make this as rough as he wanted, I gentled the kiss, stroking his tongue with mine, caressing his shoulders, admiring the way his muscles moved as I replaced bloodlust with the simple, beautiful lust between packmates.

“Emile,” he moaned against my lips when I slid my hand down his chest to wrap around his cock.

I stepped away to turn on the water to the shower, and he followed, dropping kisses on my shoulders and my neck as we waited for steam to billow out.

Gently, he guided me into the shower, then washed my shoulders and my back, then massaged conditioner into my short, curly hair.

When I turned to him, his eyes were softer. “I love you,” he said. “Regardless of what happens with Lark.” His voice dropped lower, almost too quiet to hear over the water. “Even if we never get her back. Even if this obsession—” He stopped and swallowed hard. “I need you to know that.”

I soaped up my hands so I could give him the same care and attention he gave me, washing away the evening, the other omegas, the fear that we’d built our entire world around chasing a woman who might never want to be caught.

“I’m so fucked up,” Conor muttered as he ran his fingers down my sides.

“Nah, no more than I am,” I said, scratching his scalp as I massaged shampoo into the red strands.

“Wrong. What kind of alpha would rather be out killing than drinking champagne and covered in the scent of omegas?” he murmured against my shoulder.