Forget Me Knot (PoisonVerse #2), page 2
She frowned, and it was just the slightest downturn of her rosy lips. This might be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever looked at. That thought came as a shock. I’d never been into the rich-girls-with-heels type. Far from it, actually. But then again, it was safe to say I probably hadn’t ever had a good sample size in the shit-hole I called home. I was quite sure, right now, that I’d been missing out on something.
“Right.” I cleared my throat. I had to say something comprehensible. What had she wanted? An inspection? “We actually can’t right now. We have a visitor coming in an hour.”
It wasn’t just important, it would be dangerous for anyone to get caught with us when Riot arrived.
“Oh.” She swallowed, then her voice dropped. “I could be quick. I just got this job, they said this area doesn’t get looked at much…” She hugged her handbag to her side, looking up at me with hopeful eyes. I rubbed my jaw, unable to drag my gaze from hers. “Uh…” The others would be so pissed… But they didn’t get what it was like to start a job, desperate to impress. And her put-togetherness was over the top for a place like this. How badly did she need this job? “You have to be quick, and I warn you, it’s a mess.”
She rewarded me with a smile enough to steal my breath.
I led her in, and she stepped by our mess of shoes carefully as she peered around at the cement walls that closed in the hallway.
She didn’t take her heels off as I led her up the steps to the main room, but stopped halfway up the stairs, clutching her handbag as she stared into the space beyond. It was a bit of a tip, and probably nothing like what she expected.
“Pack lead said something about residential permits, but that was a while ago,” I said. “But I’ll make your life easier, it’s all probably off code. You can tell ‘em that, but they don’t give a shit at the end of the day. Not anywhere past the railway tracks.”
She was still looking into the large room. “It’s… nice.”
I laughed, but then realised she didn’t actually look like she was joking. I glanced at the garage. It was a clutter of odd wall hangings nailed into concrete—from here I could see the old Coca-Cola poster on the wall.
The whole place was interconnected, and not built for a living space. The only separate room was the nest, which was beneath a trap door currently hidden by a small rug. Even our bedrooms weren’t really rooms; they were what seemed to be old offices, tucked around corners. Then, beyond the railings and down the few steps was the workshop. We had a nice big rolling door we could crank up so people could bring their broken bikes in for fixing, but it was great during summer, too.
The ceiling was made of industrial beams above, most of the windows were too high to clean, like there’d been another floor above our heads at some point, and the kitchen was a clutter of appliances we’d managed to make fit.
“I did most of the uh… design, if you can call it that.” I found myself with a lot more time than the other two with how often I was between jobs. I caught the tiny curve of a smile on her lips at that, and had to war with a juvenile elation lighting in my chest.
“What’s this?” Arsenal stood from where he was working in the shop, peering over the ledge from which railings separated the living space.
“Says she’s an inspector.”
“Why did you let her in this late?” Arsenal demanded, tools clanging before he took the steps to the main floor.
Veronica collected herself. “It’s really quite important—”
“Make it quick. We got a visitor in an hour. You can’t be here.” He was glaring at me, though.
“He won’t be here for a bit…” I trailed off, scratching my head.
Shit.
But Riot wouldn’t be early, right?
“Of course,” she said. “Right, well, when was your last inspection?” Her manicured nails thumbed her pen.
“Five years ago,” Arsenal grunted.
“Okay…” She scratched something on a notepad, and then looked around again.
Arsenal had a snarl on his face as he jabbed his finger at me and mouthed, ‘you idiot’.
But it was at that moment that the trapdoor opened, and Ice decided to surface from his nest. He didn’t even look our way, heading over to the kitchen for a snack.
“Oh, who’s that?” Veronica asked. Her eyes were trained on Ice, who was rummaging around in the kitchen, shifting one stack of dirty dishes onto the next, looking for something.
“Ice,” I replied.
“I put it away,” Arsenal snapped across the space. “Before you get any ideas.” Ice didn’t turn, lifting his middle finger at us all as he dropped the metal pans with a clatter.
I snorted. Couldn’t have a knife out in our own pad, not even just for cutting up a goddamned apple.
Ice scowled, nose crinkling in that irritable way that I might find endearing if it wasn’t always parcelled with his attitude. He grabbed his tub of ice cream from the freezer and skulked to the couch to devour it.
“You… have an omega?” Veronica’s voice had an edge to it.
“Yup.” I said, glancing back at her. She was staring at Ice, bottom lip caught in her teeth, her brows drawn in a perfectly mesmerising frown.
“Why?” Arsenal asked. “Do we need a special zoning permit for rodents?”
I winced. Could they not keep it together while she was here? What was she going to think of us?
But she’d barely reacted, her eyes still fixed on Ice.
Onyx
They had an omega.
Ice.
And he was beautiful. Much too beautiful.
He was tall for an omega, with a slender frame, pale skin, and a sweep of messy ash blond hair. He had a scattering of golden piercings along his ears and wore a crinkled button-up with the sleeves rolled up and buttons undone half way. With him came the sweet aroma of cookies and roses. None of that was what caught me. He had a golden ring around his pupils and it marked him gold pack as much as the bite on his neck marked him theirs.
Gold pack omegas were bottom rung in society. They were omegas who hadn’t gone to the Institute within the first year of perfuming. On that visit, omegas would get an injection. Fail to do so, and the ring of gold appeared in their eyes at the one year mark. Those omegas weren’t bound to the laws that kept society safe, and, as a result, they were also expelled from the protections the Institute offered alphas and omegas. In short—this omega was an outcast. Unprotected.
And as a member of the pack already, he was my mate as much as they were.
My eyes slid down to the bite mark again. It was a normal bond—had to be, since I had scent matched them. Plus, it didn’t have the signature darker scarring of a dark bond. Those were bonds of control, and dark bonding a gold pack omega was completely legal.
That was a good sign, though? If he didn’t have a dark bond...
Only… what had their pack lead just said about him? I couldn’t have heard it right.
I glanced back at Arsenal. He was much more intimidating than King; built like a tank, with a few more face tattoos since the photo I’d seen, with what looked like it might be a permanent scowl on his face and a sweep of dark hair brushing his eyebrows. His scent was subtle right now, not a contender with the roses and cookies of the omega in the room, but I could pick out honeyed chestnuts. Not suited for an alpha who’d just called his own omega a rodent.
“That’s… very inappropriate.” My voice was weak.
Ice looked over sharply and his eyes locked on me, seeing me for the first time. I held his curious gaze for a long moment, just as Arsenal said, “You know who’s inappropriate? The aura gods when they decided that little shit should be an omega.”
“You chose to bond him.”
Ice hopped up from the couch to perch on its arm, eyes darting back and forth between us curiously. Arsenal looked like he might crack his tooth with the clench of his jaw. “We did at that, didn’t we?”
“The bond isn’t registered,” I said. There’d been nothing in the file about Ice.
“Registered?” Arsenal barked a laugh. “The Institute and us aren’t exactly on the best terms.”
“It’s technically illegal—”
“Listen, lady. I don’t know what it’s like where you come from, but around here, no one bothers much with the Institute because the Institute doesn’t bother much with us. You’re here to inspect, right?” Arsenal waved at the massive room. “Inspect away, and keep your nose out of our pack business.”
My pulse skittered through my veins as I glanced back around the room.
An omega?
At the Institute, I’d requested only packs without another omega. But then… the reasons for that didn’t apply here, did they?
Still, I couldn’t think straight. It felt like they were all staring at me, and suddenly this place, and their scents, were overwhelming. I took a step back, almost bumping into King, who was still hovering at my side. Perhaps my distress was showing on my face, because King said, “Don’t mind them, they’re just—”
“If she wants to leave, let her leave,” Arsenal snapped.
“He’s right,” I cleared my throat, strengthening my voice. “I should go.”
King’s beautiful emerald eyes regarded me with perfect concern and I felt myself caught by them. His scent of apricots and champagne was soothing. It was high end, too. There were alphas in my circles who would kill for a scent like that. Even his voice was low and melodic and much too attractive.
But this man was a murderer.
I knew that. Yet, everything I’d read on that file had crumbled the moment the door had opened and I’d met them. I should leave. Now.
This was too much.
Arsenal was a prick, that much I was sure of, but King? I was drawn to him, dangerously so. And Ice… the golden-eyed omega who I couldn’t even stand to glance at for how my heart sped up.
For as long as I could remember, alphas had been a means to an end. Because of that, I hadn’t been prepared for my own reaction.
“You think you have enough to keep them happy?” King asked, eyes darting to the notebook. I nodded, a little caught up by the fact that he seemed completely invested in my venture to impress my new fake boss in my new fake job.
Really not what I’d expected.
I nodded.
“Good,” Arsenal muttered. “Out, before—”
There was a loud bang at the door.
Everyone froze.
“Fuck…” King muttered, turning to Arsenal. “It can’t be him. He said it would be an hour…”
“What?” My voice was higher pitched at their clear nerves, but they weren’t paying any attention to me.
“What do we do?” King demanded.
“Vault,” Arsenal muttered. “No choice.”
“Vault?” My voice was high pitched. King was crossing to the kitchen, though, ripping a drawer open and grabbing a key. “What do you mean?”
“Just until he’s gone.”
Ice’s eyes were wide as he glanced between us. For a moment, I had to contain myself, my aura almost leaching out into the room—though all that would do was burn through the dampeners I’d taken.
Arsenal had me by the arm and was dragging me across the room.
“Hey!” I tried to rip free, but he didn’t let up.
“For your own safety.” King’s expression was apologetic. “I swear, it’s better this way.” The next thing I knew he was opening the door that was tucked into the kitchen wall. Behind it was a big metal crate.
My blood went cold.
“What the hell is—?”
“You have to hide. Just for a bit, okay?” King said. “The guy outside, if he sees a lass like you in our pad he’ll get all the wrong ideas.
“No, wait—I’ll leave—”
“Too late,” Arsenal growled.
“I can’t…” Terror saturated my voice. I threw myself against Arsenal’s grip, but it was completely useless.
“Really sorry.” King winced as Arsenal shoved me into the enclosed dark space. “It’s for your own safety.”
“Wait—” I tried to launch myself at the open door, but Arsenal shoved me back in. “NO!” My voice was a scream.
SLAM!
I was left, braced against the door, chest heaving.
A faint flickering light sent an unpleasant haze of dim light around me. Other than that, the small space was empty.
A box.
They’d put me in a box.
How long would they leave me in here?
And my scent dampeners? How long before they wore off?
I hugged my purse, sinking down to the floor, trying to stifle my whimper.
I needed to stay calm or I’d burn through the drugs. If that happened, the moment they opened the door all they’d realise that the woman in their box, who now smelled like brownies and lavender, was their scent match after all.
THREE
Malakai
What. The. Fuck?
“Why the hell is that woman in our fucking pad right before—?”
“I thought—She just… Shit…” King looked uncertain. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Not with your head,” Arsenal snapped. “Ice!”
For once in his life, Ice didn’t argue with Arsenal. In fact, the slender omega was already halfway to his nest. He hoisted the trap door and vanished inside. I crossed the room to it and shifted the rug over the trap door. Riot knew we had an omega, but we weren’t giving him extra details if we could help it. Ice was on the same page—no one in their right minds crossed Riot if they didn’t have to.
And shit, if he caught that petite, fancy looking ‘inspector’ woman in our house when he visited, Riot sure as shit wouldn’t chalk it up to coincidence.
I’d only caught a glimpse of her for a moment, an image of pretentiously well-dressed panic as Arsenal had shoved her into the vault.
Tonight’s meeting was causing me more anxiety than I’d admit, but I take one fucking night to plug in to an old game to de-stress before the most important meeting we’d had in years, and everything went to shit. So now we had one of the most notorious criminals in the city on our doorstep, and a woman locked in our vault.
Fucking great.
And Riot wasn’t someone to be fucked with. Everyone was fucking terrified of him. He had dirt on half the city, enough of it to turn top-siders bottom and launch bottom-siders top. When he chose to drop a bomb, you could be sure as shit that’s exactly what happened.
Better for her that she wait it out, even if she didn’t know it.
“Fucking idiot,” Arsenal muttered. “What the fuck was he thinking letting her in?”
“He wasn’t,” I snorted. “Just saw a pair of pretty blue eyes and lost his last brain cells.”
Riot’s booted footfalls hit the steps as he entered our garage.
He was a huge alpha, wearing his signature trench coat which hooded his face almost half way. His scent hit the room in an instant, even though his aura wasn’t out.
Burned ebony and gunpowder.
Riot wasn’t just a threat: he was uncomfortable to examine. What he’d done, who he had become, it didn’t make anyone want to consider too long. Especially not us: alphas and ex-cons to boot.
“You know what you need?” Arsenal was asking Riot. He could do what we wanted, but he’d been holding out on telling us if there was something we could offer him in return.
Riot rolled the cigarette in his teeth as he dug in his pocket, smoke billowing around him. “Institute check soon, yeh?”
Arsenal nodded. “In nine days.” We were required by Institute law to go for our last yearly check in with the Institute—part of our ‘rehabilitation’ program after juvie.
“That goes into a computer in the criminal division. Don’t care how,” he said.
I stared at the tiny black USB he was holding between his fingers.
“That’s it?” Arsenal asked, mirroring my thoughts exactly.
It was less work than I was expecting. Sure. We’d be right back to prison if we failed, but I hadn’t expected any request Riot had to be above board. What he could offer us, it was worth that a thousand times. King slid onto the barstool at Arsenal’s side, eyeing the USB Riot still held.
Riot cocked his head, bright eyes fixed on Arsenal from beneath his hood. He didn’t say anything else.
“Done. But we can’t change the date of our check in,” Arsenal said. Riot watched him, waiting. “Your end gets done before that.”
I didn’t hold my breath. Sure enough, Riot flashed his teeth. “Nah, see, that won’t work for me.”
“We need—”
“I know what you need.” Riot’s eyes flickered to the rug that covered Ice’s trapdoor. My stomach turned, and I felt the shift of discomfort through my bond with Arsenal and King.
“You don’t trust we’ll do it?” Arsenal asked.
“Don’t take it personal.”
A long silence stretched.
I might have asked why he’d come in person for something so simple, but I already knew the answer. Riot didn’t get where he was by letting others be his eyes. He was more limited these days, I knew, but for whatever reason he’d decided this job was worth the visit. Either he considered us a threat, or this job was very important. I would guess the latter. My pack weren’t troublemakers in the Gritch District.
Even if we were, we’d do nothing about this visit.
The Institute wanted him detained, but it wasn’t happening. Last month a pack had tried to rat on him when he’d turned up at their door. No one responded to the call, and Riot had walked away without a scratch. The next morning the pack woke to their omega gone. She’d turned up in their own basement nailed to the wall, a dead rodent jammed down her throat. She’d died slowly and painfully and right beneath their noses.
I shut my eyes, shoving the thought away.
I wouldn’t survive that.
None of us would.
Shattered bonds, even under normal circumstances, were enough to drive anyone insane. Sure enough, three days later, the rest of the pack had been found dead, shot by their own pack lead before he’d taken the gun to his own head.
