His face lightened, something peaceful settling there.
“Orion was so brave, so beautiful. He knew exactly what he was throwing away, what it would mean for his future, and he chose us anyway. I thought that meant something, that by doing this one thing that alphas didn’t do, we would be different.”
Rhys shook his head, and the light died just as quickly as it had arrived.
“This place runs on Ratcliffe’s money. We make a shit ton, but it took a lot to get it built, even more to get it started. We’re making headway on the repayments, I think. I, stupidly, always left the business side of things to Marcus. I worked the door or the floor when needed, turfed out anyone who was a dickhead, and then retired at the end of the night with those I loved. It was simple, and we were happy.”
“Not quite,” Brendan said.
“No,” Rhys said with a nod. “The better you do, the more you want. It was me that pushed for an omega. That was what we needed to finalise our pack. Financial success, stability, people to love, and an omega to bring us closer. I’d see one of us get drawn to some omega or another, go sniffing around him or her, be pulled into their web, and dragged away from us. For this to work long-term, we had to have an omega for the whole pack. We’d talked about it when we were young but never found anyone who wanted more than a night of that. Something wild, something kinky to remember when you were old and grey, but a bond?”
“We got close with Jean,” Brendan said.
“We thought we did. Jean was the last omega we tried things with. He’d fallen into bed with us one night, liked the multiple orgasms enough to tip into rampancy. He was hard, we were hard, and we just couldn’t stop fucking.”
My hand tightened in Rhys’ hair, drawing his focus to me.
“We thought that intensity, having that kind of sexual compatibility, had to mean something.”
“It did,” Brendan said. “It meant we all got off a lot. He never promised anything, was fairly clear about not catching feelings, but we’d all said that at some point. We thought we were in familiar territory.”
“I should’ve known what he was, what he was after.” Those pale blue eyes studied mine. “I’d scented you, searched for you, trawled that forest for months afterward but never caught you.”
“Mum didn’t let me go back to the forest for some time. She was too afraid I’d stumble across some feral alpha,” I said.
“She was right.” His smile wasn’t a particularly happy one, but it bared his teeth. “I’m not sure I would’ve been able to take no for an answer. All those sappy fucking movies about alphas scenting their mates for the first time and falling madly in love at first sniff. It wasn’t love, not then, but…” He reached up, pushing past the pain to stroke my face. “When Jean turned on us, stole a bunch of money and drugs and sold us out to the cops, I wasn’t surprised. He was never our omega. He was Benson’s.”
“Benson’s?” I said with a start.
“Orion’s dad had sent him to us, asked him to play at mating with the pack so he could get the dirt. His plan was to have us thrown in prison, get Orion out with a smack on the wrist by the judge he golfs with, like rich alphas do, and no more inappropriate alpha mates. Orion would go through a period of mourning, then present himself back in high society, find his omega, and all would be well. But Marcus was never going to let that happen. Evidence went missing, cases were dismissed, and Jean ended up with a broken neck, his body found down at the pier. I don’t think that was Marcus. So Benson still had the same problem.”
“He has a whole bunch of problems,” I replied, and then proceeded to share what I knew.
“So that’s what it was.” Rhys laughed long and hard, but none of it sounded pleasant. There was something desperate and bitter about it.
“What was what?” I asked.
“You think this was some whole conspiracy, but it wasn’t. You give us way more credit.” Rhys rolled up and away from me, walking back and forth, just wrapped in a towel. “Orion had a plan, I knew that. He was getting drawn back home more and more, coming back angrier and more desperate, and Marcus? It’s always wheels within wheels with him.”
“So what was the deal?” I asked, pushing, even though I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know the answer.
“Orion wanted you with us. Firstly, to appease his father, but also… He thought the easiest thing was to keep you at arm’s length and just play at being together, as you first discussed. That shit dissolved so fucking quick, I dunno if it ever was a serious plan. You were perfect for him. O hates omegas that slobber all over the Ratcliffe name, using him to get to it. A blue blood princess would’ve left him just as cold. Instead, you’re you.”
It felt like this was the first time Rhys’ eyes really softened, his defences crumbling, even his pain and anguish put to one side. There was just this—the man who’d marked me as his.
“A girl who can attend posh outings with Orion without embarrassing him, who can bring something to an alliance with a great name, but also a girl who can go and train at how to fight with weapons with Bren. Who’d meet Charlene and Simon and see them for the fucking beautiful people they are. Someone who’d come and play here in this cesspool, bold as brass, but would curl up like a kitten in our arms, trusting in a way no club rat would. Someone who’d see four bloody alphas who were held together by bonds of love, bad decisions, and just plain habit sometimes, and be brave enough to step in the space left between us.” He paused, swallowing before continuing. “I scented you in the forest that day. It was always going to be you, Cyn. Always.”
And just when the pain of staring into his eyes got too much, he shook his head and looked away.
“Orion’s dad needs your mother’s intellectual property. Who was warning Cyn’s mum of what was to come well and truly before she saw Orion at that party?”
“Fuck, it’s Marcus,” Brendan said in wonder.
“Always Marcus,” Rhys hissed. His eyes were wide and unseeing and focussed on the blank wall. “I’ve always wondered what we bound ourselves to, who we brought into the fold. We were just kids playing before he came along, and then…”
“Give me your phone,” I snapped at Brendan, holding out a hand for it to be slapped down on my palm. He told me the passcode so I could unlock it, then I scrolled through the contacts until I found the number. I thumbed the call button and listened to the electronic buzzes until he picked up.
“Cyn.”