He went for my throat next, cuffing me hard, driving my diamond choker with its dangling icicles into my skin and knocking that stupid bow aside. His free hand yanked at my chemise, at my thong, the fabric biting into me as my perfume put out panic signals like a foghorn. Rough fingers groped my inner thigh—
And then someone cleared his throat.
I froze.
He froze.
I opened one eye, then the other.
“Torvald, I believe that’smine.”
And fell deep into the ice-blue gaze of an alpha vampire.
Chapter2
Holly
Nobody moved.
Not me, not this Torvald psychopath, and nothim.
Goddess above, was there such a thing as asuperalpha? Like, alpha-est of the alphas?
Because the aura this male gave off was like the weight of a thousand suns crashing down on me from above…
And Ineededthe burn.
“Fuck off, Ambrose,” my assailant gritted out, pressing harder, shoving closer, his fingers desperately trying to work between my clenched thighs. This Ambrose alpha tsked, the sound going off like a bomb in my skull, so sharp and succinct, so dangerously influential that it made the omega in me forget her fear andmoan, heat dancing over my skin. Torvald, meanwhile, stiffened again, like his fellow alpha’s influence touched him too.
And how could it not when this vampire stood there, watching us, looking and feeling like a god among men. Strange how two alphas in black suits with blond hair could be so vastly different. Over this scumbag’s shoulder, I devoured vampire Ambrose like I’d never seen another living male before. Tall and lean, his black suit fit to a frame that was broad at the shoulders and tapered at the waist. The white dress shirt with its crisp collar was open just enough to reveal some high-reaching tattoo ink creeping up his chest.
Blond like Torvald, yet not the white blond that made my tummy knot, but a dirty blond that accompanied finger-swept locks, his hair longer at the top and swept back, shaved and neat at the sides. While not the bulkiest alpha in the room, he was all angles, with a strong brow and a firm jaw, clean-shaven with a dimpled chin that made my omega side swoon.
Cold blue eyes—almost verging on grey, depending on how the dim overhead light hit them.
Casual yet not, he smelled like rosewood and supple leather, like the air before a storm, precarious and wild, the world holding its breath.
My perfume misted the entire corridor suddenly, coming out in frantic spurts, my biology desperate to attractthisalpha in a hurry. Torvald let out an unsettling purr, a liquor-soaked breath with it, and I gritted my teeth; this gush of scent, the damp between my thighs, was forAmbrose.
And it made me weak in the knees when I caught the vampire’s nostrils flare, just a predator catching a drop of blood on the breeze. He swallowed hard a beat later—like my snowdrop perfume made his mouth water.
Goddess, help me.
This had never ever, ever,everhappened with an alpha before. Not the teachers I had secret—and very unwelcome—crushes on at the academy, nor the alphas who made guest appearances at assemblies, almost like an appetizer before the main course of being forcefully mated to whatever Bog pack chose us after graduation. Mistletoe alphas made me sick, but Ambrose made me weak.
And, once again, I wasn’t sure which was worse.
With a dignifiedsniff, Ambrose ducked down and swept my fallen bow off the floor. There was elegance in the way he moved, but his limbs, his eyes, his aura was just so muchwilderthan human alphas. He was still a monster, but he had thisgraceabout him that made my knees weaker still.
“You crumpled her bow.” Ambrose held it aloft, pinched between two fingers. Crunched and sad and torn, I almost felt bad for it. The vampire, however, only had eyes for me, his attention suffocating in the best way possible. “Was this for our benefit, little omega?”
He flashed his fangs when he addressed me, the pair razor-sharp and impossible to ignore. A passing glance his way and he’d blend in with all the normal alphas, but as soon as he opened his mouth—monster.
Even his voice had this deliciously savage rasp to it…
That was somehow lovely too, like a skilled tenor in the choir of the damned.
Beautiful and divine, masculine and breathtaking.