Omega & Love (Alpha & Omega Book 2) Read online

  I’m stunned. I thought he was sleeping!

  “Tsk, tsk,” he growls.

  Before I know it, I’m yanked on top of him. His erection stabs into me like every other time I’m in his presence.

  “I hate you!” I spit into his face.

  Ignoring the spittle that my hatred brings, he gropes me through my nightgown. “Naughty girl. When will you understand that I am in charge here? I make the rules. Not you. And right now, I am going to punish you for trying to gut me with a steak knife.”

  He rolls us over, and crushes me with his powerful weight.

  “Hope you’re wearing panties today, sister, because I plan on making you scream and I need something to shut you up.”

  “If I wanted to fuck a corpse, I would have gone to a cemetery.”

  I snap out of my daze and pop my mouth off Luc’s cock. “Sorry. I’m not feeling well today.”

  He glares at me. His rage ripples from him, and I shudder under his gaze.

  “Leviathans don’t get to call in sick. Leviathans are always serving their master.”

  Shit.

  I’m too rattled. The memories. Omega. And now Luc’s oppressive presence. It’s all too fucking much.

  I reach for his cock again, but he steps away and stuffs it back into his pants. My relieved sigh is too loud, and I instantly detest that I let my guard down.

  He will see. He always sees.

  “Get up.”

  A whimper escapes me, and once again, I’m powerless—much like I was so long ago against Father Paul.

  How did I weaken so much in one day?

  I scramble to my feet and do my best to give him a sexy smile. However, he’s onto my game. He glowers at me and points to the bedroom. Without hesitation, I try to stay steady as I wobble into my room.

  “Bend over the bed,” he demands.

  The very idea of having sex with him terrifies me, but at least we won’t be in his nightmare of a bedroom. I can do this. I have to do this.

  Obliging, I stretch across the bed and reach my arms over my sheets, which are rumpled from when Omega and I made love not even an hour earlier. I inhale the lingering scent of him and draw strength from it.

  I can do this.

  I will do this.

  “I’m so wet and ready,” I purr. My voice grows stronger by the second as Lillian runs into the shadows of my mind. Lovenia is strapping her goddamned stilettos on.

  His belt buckle jingles as he removes it. Wiggling my butt at him, I beg him to hurry. Truth is, I’d rather be anywhere but here, but there is so much to learn from the man behind me—information Pallas can use to solve the mystery of the inner corruption and Luc’s ulterior motives. Sleeping with him will protect Omega.

  I will do this for the good of everyone.

  I will do this for the opportunity to redeem myself and have a shot at something better in life.

  He draws the shirt up over my ass, and an uncontrollable shiver ripples through me.

  “Mmm,” I moan. But when I feel the leather of his belt drag over my ass, my heart stops beating in my chest. Surely not. Surely fucking not!

  The swat that follows takes me by surprise, and I scream. Too many memories haunt me, and I’m hanging on by a thread.

  “Please, just fuck me, Luc,” I sob.

  He grunts and swats me much harder. This time, I scramble over the bed to get away from him. Missions be damned—I’m not fucking dealing with this again!

  A hot hand snatches my ankle and yanks me back. My face drags along the sheets, and I attempt to draw up happy memories—memories of Omega and me from earlier.

  The smell of his breath mixed with mine.

  The way his curls got tangled in my fingers.

  The mind-blowing orgasms he extracted from me.

  His love.

  Love.

  “When my employees step out of line, I kindly remind them who they belong to,” he snarls behind me, jerking me from my thoughts of precious Omega. “And you belong to me. For fucking eternity.”

  I cry out again as he whips me. The room tilts and spins all around me. Luc continues to speak, but I’ve become lifeless on the bed as he beats the living hell out of me.

  Eventually, I give in to the darkness.

  No.

  No.

  No!

  It has been four months of taking Father Paul’s abuse. Four long, horrifying months. And now this.

  What did I do to deserve this?

  My eyes blur as I stare at the home pregnancy test I purchased earlier today. It required sneaking out, stealing some cash from one of the offering trays after mass, and a few lies to a few clergymen along the way, but I obtained it nonetheless.

  Pregnant with Father Paul’s child.

  An abomination.

  I could kill myself. Simply steal another steak knife and slit my wrists. The pain and suffering would end. Finally.

  But who would protect the children then?

  And this baby is innocent. Like Daniel.

  I am innocent, despite trying to kill that awful man once before.

  A ragged sob pierces the air, and I shudder. With shaking hands, I drop the test into the wastebasket. There has to be a way to rid this planet of the evilness that is Father Paul. If Mother were here, she would encourage me—help me, even. She wouldn’t sit by and allow this man to harm others the way he does. Who knows how long he’s been doing this?

  I know what I must do.

  With fierce determination, I storm out of the bathroom and toward the janitor closet. When I reach it, I wrench the door open and flick the light on. It doesn’t take me long to find what I need.

  I’m going to burn him like he deserves—send him straight to Hell, where he belongs!

  After striding over to his closed office door, I pour the jug of ammonia all over the wooden floors in front of it and make sure to splash his door and walls.

  He’ll be expecting me soon, like always.

  I don’t interrupt anything anymore.

  I am the one he lives to torment.

  Once I’m satisfied that I have soaked it good and plenty, I scramble over to the ax inside the locked glass case. With a force only a slightly unhinged person would possess, I smash my elbow into the glass. The inflictions of the sharp edges sting my skin, and blood trickles down my arm. But it doesn’t slow me. Time is of the essence.

  I yank the ax out and pull the fire alarm.

  Ignoring the wails of the alarm, I walk through the ammonia pool, careful not to slip, until I’m standing in front of his office. The nuns and clergy will safely get the children out of the dormitories. But I will make sure Father Paul isn’t going anywhere.

  When the door doesn’t open, despite the ringing alarm, I turn the knob and fling it open.

  He gapes at me as I enter the room. Murder and hate glow from my normally innocent eyes. If looks could kill, he’d be dead in this moment.

  “Fire drill. You should get going.” He sounds bored. Distracted, even—until he sees the ax. His lips pull into an amused smirk as he rises from his desk. “You tried once, sister. And you failed.”

  Glaring at him, I storm over to his credenza and grab one of the long-handled lighters he uses to light the candles with.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he demands, concern causing his voice to crack.

  “Don’t come any closer or I’ll split your skull in two!” I threaten back and swing the ax for show.

  He halts his movements as I retreat backwards. My plan is to set the fire and lock him in his office. But, like always, he anticipates what I want to do next. So he charges. I’ve barely turned around to run when he tackles me to the floor. My chin slams against the wood floor, and for half a second, I am stunned.

  The ax is easily torn from my hands.

  But I still have the lighter.

  The moment I pull the trigger, flames run away from me in all directions where I had doused the place with ammonia. Problem is, though, I’m on the wrong side
of the office door.

  I would mourn this thought, but I’m thankful he’s here with me.

  He’s cursing behind me, no longer on top of me, and I scramble away from the licking flames back into his office.

  I’m going to burn to death.

  But so will he.

  I turn to see Father Paul gawking at the flames. He’s completely immobile, the ax hanging in his hand. The heat assaults us with its punishable intensity with each passing second, and we retreat farther from the flames.

  My poor baby.

  I find myself clutching my flat stomach and aching for something that could have been loved despite how it was brought into this world. I was going to turn something bad into something really good.

  But now…

  I scoot behind his desk and see him staring hopelessly at the fire that’s inching its way toward us. Though I should be devastated at having been trapped, all I feel is happiness. Father Paul will die a horrible death soon. No more children or women will suffer at his hand.

  But I realize the error of my ways the moment something touches my ankle, causing me to squeak in surprise.

  Horror washes over me.

  Regret floods my veins.

  “I’m scared.” Daniel.

  “What are you doing here?” I hiss as he crawls out from under the desk and into my waiting arms.

  “I was being punished,” he reveals and the sorrow in his voice claws at my heart. “But you saved me again.”

  I squeeze him to me and howl for what I’ve so foolishly done. The crushing unfairness threatens to end me, not the raging fire, the moment my despondent eyes meet the satisfied ones of Father Paul.

  He won again.

  “You’re going to Hell, sister. Killing innocent people is a sin!” he snarls.

  “You’re not innocent!” I scream back through angry tears and squeeze Daniel to me.

  The smug bastard smirks at me. “He is.”

  I look down at the boy hugging me.

  What have I done?

  Daniel peers up at me and smiles. I’m thankful it will be one of the last things I see before I die.

  “Sister Lillian?”

  “Yes, sweet boy?”

  “Everything is going to be okay.”

  “EVERYTHING IS GOING to be okay.”

  Connor’s voice soothes me as I raise my hand to knock on Jes’s door in the basement. Having my best friend here is comforting as hell.

  “It’s been fucking awful without you, man,” I grumble.

  His lips press into a firm line. “I know. I’m so sorry, Omega.”

  I wave it off and pound on the door.

  “It’s open,” a pleasant voice chirps out.

  With Connor on my heels, I push through the door and I’m immediately weirded out. Bosefus wasn’t lying. Jes is a total hippie.

  Incense permeate the room, and I instantly associate the smell with Love. This is her scent. Why in the hell does she smell like another man’s apartment? My guard is up as I search for Jes.

  Tons of concert posters line the walls and ceilings. The bed that juts out along one wall is covered with a blanket that says I love hemp. And thigh-high stacks of CDs line the walls on the carpet.

  I look at Connor, thankful to see the same surprised expression on his face.

  “Jes?” I bark out.

  “Over here.”

  I storm over to the other side of the bed to see a man lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. He brings his questionable homemade cigarette to his lips and takes a hit.

  “Want some, man?” he offers before he blows a puff of smoke into the air.

  “No,” Connor and I answer in unison.

  Jes winks at us as he deposits the joint into an ashtray and sits up. “I’ve been waiting for you both.”

  I glare at him. This fucker acts like he’s the damn Oracle from The Matrix.

  He stands and points to a sofa. “Please, sit. May I offer you something to drink?”

  Both Connor and I nod as we take our seats on the couch. I study Jes as he saunters over to his mini fridge. The man is well over six feet tall but despite his frame being lanky, it’s a strong one. His long, brown hair hangs just past his shoulders in an unkempt fashion. I smirk once I notice he’s wearing a Black Sabbath reunion concert T-shirt from ’95.

  He retrieves three water bottles from the fridge and tosses one to each of us, keeping one for himself. I catch it easily, but I raise a confused brow at him when I see the dark, crimson liquid instead of water inside.

  “What the fuck is this?” I demand.

  He grins at me, and my lips fight against my desire to be angry. The bastard wins, and I smile back at him.

  “Wine.”

  “You have wine in your water bottles,” Connor says quietly. “That’s really fucking weird.”

  Jes and I both chuckle.

  I like this guy.

  Why the hell do I like this hippie?

  For all I know, he’s fucking my woman on the side. His room is saturated by the smell I’ve always associated with her. The thought sickens me and I squash it, choosing to focus on this mysterious man that might could help me.

  “I make my own wine. It’s a hobby of mine,” he explains.

  Connor and I meet each other’s gazes. His eyes widen and he shrugs his shoulders. If Connor is cool with this dude, so am I.

  “Bosefus sent me. Said I needed to see you,” I blurt out. Might as well get right to it.

  Jes narrows his eyes at me and sits on the edge of the bed. “Leviathans don’t typically come to see me. Well, aside from Love. Love is lovely.”

  Connor must sense my impending storm and pats my knee. “Jes, Omega is seriously territorial when it comes to that woman. I can tell you’re a good, friendly guy. So, if you cherish your life, I would not poke this bear,” he warns Jes.

  Jes bursts out into laughter, and the rage that was just surging through me dissipates. I can’t even stay fucking mad at this guy.

  “I don’t want her,” he laughs. “She borrows my CDs all the time. We’re both hardcore Nirvana fans. I get her bootlegged stuff only I own.”

  A relieved breath rushes from me. “I knew she had a thing for Kurt Cobain, but he’s dead, so he’s of no threat to me.”

  Jes smirks at me. “Is anyone ever really dead?”

  I think of the damned souls next door—the ones that screamed in agony. They may be dead, but they are certainly still existing. A shudder rakes its way through me.

  “I guess not. So, why are we here?” I question and pinch the top of my nose. I’m tired and fucking stressed. I would rather be at home with Love on my cock than here in this weirdo’s basement.

  “Clarence tells me you are well, Connor,” Jes pronounces to my best friend, ignoring my question.

  Connor smiles. “I’m really well, actually. We have a baby on the way.”

  Jes’s face spreads into a wide grin. “A baby made in love,” he sighs wistfully. “I was pretty proud of that one.”

  Connor’s gaze finds mine and he stiffens. “I don’t follow.”

  “Of course not. You aren’t meant to follow. Just know, I rewrote that program. I amaze myself sometimes. My father says I live to fix things—find solutions to problems. He doesn’t know that I’m really just keen on finding loopholes.”

  Connor glances over at me again then shrugs. Neither one of us knows what the fuck Jes even means.

  “So, you’re some sort of computer programmer? You have some insight into what the fuck is going on around here?” I demand, desperate for answers.

  “Something like that. Do you want to stop me?” he queries, amusement outwardly dancing on his quirked up lips but a subtle ferocity lying below the surface of his kind features.

  I frown at him. “No, but I think you could help us. Pallas wants Love and me to do some recon for him. Luc is really attempting to fuck some shit up.”

  “Aren’t you a Leviathan?”

  Cringing, I nod. “I am.”<
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  “So, why do you want to help HEA?”

  Question of the fucking hour.

  “I don’t know. Because I miss it here. Because the people here are good. Because Pallas was always the father I never had. Because I want to be with Love and Luc is threatening that. Because the screams of the damned will haunt me until the end of time. I was always really fucking badass at being good. Now, I really fucking suck at being bad.”

  His eyes narrow as he regards me. “Yeah, you kind of suck. I’ve seen your files.”

  I gape at him.

  “Jes,” Connor huffs in exasperation, reminding him of my temper.

  Jes grins at me. That fucking bastard. And stupidly, I smile back.

  “You’re fucking unbelievable,” I gripe. “Why can’t I hate you like I feel inclined to?”

  He chuckles. “You couldn’t hate anyone if you tried.”

  I roll my eyes. “I hate Luc.”

  “Omega, hate is a waste of time. Focus on Love. Love is all you need,” he says, the last part coming out in a singsong voice, eerily sounding like John Lennon.

  “If only that were truly the way. I’d take her and haul ass so far from here,” I grumble to myself.

  His eyes gleam, and he winks. “Nurture the love in your heart. Protect the Love of your life. And help me with a little task. A vacation might be deserved after that.”

  I mull his cryptic words over. A vacation? “I don’t understand.”

  He beams again. “Connor, can you hand me that MacBook under the sofa?”

  Connor pulls a shiny, white computer out from beneath him, and it reminds me of Luc’s black one. Jes takes it from him and opens it. While he produces a Boba Fett Lego flash drive from his pocket and inserts it into the side, I ask him the question I’ve been dying to ask.

  “Are you really some head honcho here?”

  He taps away on the computer and then plucks the drive out. “Something like that,” he evades. “Now, this drive is encrypted with a virus. It cracks passwords. I need you to take it to HEL and get me something.”