We weren’t the living anymore.
But we weren’t exactly dead either.
Stuck in limbo, scorned even by shifters and warlocks and fae.
Saddling an omega tovampireswas just…
Fuck the gods.
This was the last straw. Fuck—the—gods. As if we hadn’t collectively gone through enough bullshit to last ten lifetimes.
And if we weren’t careful, we’d drain our blood bond dry. No warning, no preparation, just—boom, blood bond, the perfect omega for us with theperfectblood to satiate our every desire. Shit, even with this rage, the unfairness of it all, I still wanted to bite her perfect ass and drink the night away while she came and came andcame.
Fortunately, some sliver of reason remained. I looked to Ambrose, my coven elder still slouched against the wall, clearly struggling. The connection hit him deepest as the oldest, and while I liked to push his buttons on a good day, really wind him up and watch him go because seeing myratherproper bond lose his shit was hilarious, there was a time to be serious.
There was a time to be on the same fucking page.
We were bonds for a reason.
When it all went sideways, the bond came first. A faint itch tickled my wrist where Ambrose and Laszlo had left their alpha bites, the three of us unified against everyone else for centuries. Human alphas, the ones without a drop of magic or power in their blood, ordinary as fucking betas in my opinion—they called us animals. Mindless rutting beasts, whether we shifted into actual animals or not.
I loved proving them wrong.
I got off on showing them how much stronger we were—reminding them that the only reason the supernatural lost the worldwide wars a good century ago was becausetheyhad whole populations of cannon fodder, skyrocketing birthrates, and some superior tech. Period.
But that was different shit for another day.
When Ambrose fumbled,I, as the second eldest in the coven, had to step up.
Only… Ambrose rarely fumbled.
So, I didn’t have a ton of experience being the levelheaded one, and a long time ago, I would have said fuck it and just done what I wanted.
Instead, I forced myself back to the armchair just as Laz went for Ambrose, crouching down beside our bond to check on him. Holly’s gaze tracked him as she lay on her side, her back andperfectround ass to me.
“You know what I love?” I mused gruffly, making it up as I went along,tryingto regain control for the whole coven. Thighs stained red, her wound closed courtesy of the healing power in Ambrose’s toxin, Holly slowly rolled over to face me, her head pillowed on her folded arms, her throat rippling through a delicious gulp.
Huh.
With her full attention on me, seizing control was… easier than I thought.
Because… she… depended on me.
On us.
Her blood bonds.
Her alphas—who couldnotlose their shit and give in to the instinct that said bite her until sunrise.
“I love—” I settled deeper into the chair with a hum, hands dangling over the armrests. “—the sound of a woman gagging.”
Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed, her snowdrop-scented perfume puffing away, calling me to her. I bit back a growl. Omega biology wasthemost manipulative. Sure, alphas could use a barking tone that made betas and omegas yield, follow orders, and basically do whatever the fuck we wanted—but pretty omegas could get in our heads and rule us without an ounce of force.
And that was much, much more dangerous.
Because you could get trapped under her little thumb long before you ever noticed she had you.
“I love the look on her face,” I whispered, forcing her to lean a little closer to hear me, our gazes locking, “when she’s all covered in drool… with my cock down her throat.”