Chapter 4 The Rat and The Scent
POV: Eric
The bar is dark and the air is thick with jazz and human sweat. The customers have no idea that this shitty place, the Black Moon, belongs to me. They do not know the bartenders are omegas or that every inch of this sticky wood is marked with my scent. For humans it is Frenchmen Street. For us it is my sanctuary.
Around the table my wolves are tense. Cael, my beta, watches the door while the other three keep their eyes down. One of them, Marcus, reeks of fear.
My wolf wakes up instantly under my ribs. Lips pulled back, he growls softly with a sound only I can hear.
You smell that, Alpha? he hisses in my head. The rat. He smells wrong. We should rip his liver out right here, on the table.
Not here. Not in front of the humans, I answer silently.
I set my hands flat on the wood and the crack makes the whole group flinch.
“Marcus. Sabotage. The Hydera vial. You the rat?”
My voice is a low rumble. Marcus stutters in response.
“No, Alpha… it’s Mathieu, we found traces of unstable dosage…”
“I pulled you out of the gutter, Marcus. I gave you territory in New Orleans and my protection. You fuck up the hydera or you hide the traitor from me, and you do not lose a paycheck. You lose your pack. And a packless wolf three days before the full moon? The bayou rogues smell that from six miles out. Clear?”
“Yes, Alpha. I… I’ll find who did it.”
Cael gives me a knowing look. Order is restored. But suddenly my ears swivel because a sound cuts through the bar noise, a frequency only a predator can isolate.
A voice. Her voice.
A few feet away at the bar, Catherine Fermon is emptying her venom to her friend. She is in my place. Drinking my beer, breathing the air of my den, and she is letting loose. She is talking about my office, my hands, and what she wants me to do to her in bed. She wants me to dominate her. She wants me to punish her. She wants the animal.
My wolf slams against my ribcage. Her! he howls with a growl of pure possession. Our female! She’s screaming our name! She’s here! Pin her up, Alpha! Right there. Against the bar. In front of the pack. Show them she’s ours.
The leather of my chair creaks under my fingers and my claws slip out a millimeter. My wolf goes feral. Take! Taste! Bite her neck! I want to feel her blood and her pleasure! Right now!
I have to clench my fists until they bleed to keep from vaulting over the table. My men do not exist anymore. The betrayal does not exist anymore. There is only this woman and this animal that wants to devour the lawyer and the secretary.
Calm down, I growl internally while feeling my vision drop a shade toward the beast. Not here. Not like this.
Coward! I want her! I’ll take her!
I stand slowly with predatory grace.
I move toward the bar and the humans part instinctively. I pass right behind her, close enough to bite her nape. Her scent hits me, a mix of fear, hops, and pure arousal.
My wolf vibrates with sadistic pleasure. Bite, Alpha. Just one bite. So they know who she belongs to.
I do not stop. I keep walking toward the exit, but as I pass her I let my eyes shift to the beast. I lock my gaze with hers for a split second, just long enough for her to understand that I heard everything. Absolutely everything.
I step out into the humid New Orleans night with my blood boiling.
We made a mistake, Alpha, my wolf says, darker now that we are outside. We should not have left.
It was necessary, I answer while breathing in the heavy bayou air.
No, he snarls one last time before settling back into shadow. It was a mistake. Because I… I wanted her.