“My claiming mark.”
Fenrir felt the power slip from his grasp, fizzling back into the recesses of his core.
Had the alpha just said…
“I bit you.” Oberon captured him beneath the chin and turned his head so that Fenrir was forced to meet his gaze over his shoulder. “I thought you were being difficult because youwere testing me, the same way I’ve been testing you this past hour. But I was wrong, wasn’t I? You were thinking I was no better than that bitch who tried to own something that never belonged to her.”
“King.” Fenrir was at a loss for words, his mind completely blank. Did he even dare hope…
“Have you been lying here, wondering when and how I would dispose of you? Precious.” Soothing pheromones exploded into the room, practically choking Fen with their potency. “I’m your alpha. I would never. Your life is safe with me. Now your ass…well, I can’t make any promises about that, but—”
“Say it again.”
Oberon’s brow winged up. “It was kind of a lame joke.”
“Not that.” He didn’t even have it in him to roll his eyes, too desperate and trying so hard not to show it. What if this was another trap?
It was easy to prove, though, wasn’t it?
If the alpha was serious, there was already a mark on Fenrir’s neck.
Oberon planted a hand on the pillow and adjusted so that he was bent completely over him, their noses practically touching. “I gave you the claiming bite. I chose you as my omega. There’s no escape from me, but I promise I’ll treat you better than she did. If you don’t make me cage you, I won’t. If you behave, I’ll behave.” His hand tightened around his nape once more.
“You’re mine, Fenrir. I broke any sway she had over you when I bound the two of us together. Your Shout lineage won’t allow you to recognize anyone else as your equal, and your omega side won’t let you acknowledge anyone else as your master. You belong to me.”
Before Fenrir could fully come to terms with all that those words meant, the house shook, a loud boom echoing throughout the building.
Chapter 17:
The front door had just been blown in.
Oberon shot off the bed, reaching into the basket on the shelf by the entrance to the room and grabbing the blaster he’d left there. Behind him, he heard shattering metal and springs, and braced himself for the worst from both sides as footsteps clambered up the stairs.
Whoever had broken in was clearly here with violent intentions. If Fenrir chose the same—
“Pants?” Fenrir was shuffling through the empty closet when Oberon glanced at him.
“Bathroom.” This room wasn’t typically used, but he’d left a change of clothing there earlier. The plan had been to feel the guy out, see if Fen wanted to murder him, and then suggest he wash up.
Take the testing stage a little further and see if the omega might be open to fooling around.
The two of them had skipped right over the getting to know each other stage, and on some level, that was O’s fault, but everyone knew the best way to lock in a mate was by constant physical touch. The more pheromones he was able to wash over Fenrir, the more likely the other guy would choose to kiss him instead of ice him out—both literally and figuratively.
Contact was arguably the most important step directly after a claiming bite had been gifted.
Whoever was responsible for this interruption was going to pay.
Oberon caught sight of movement at the top of the steps and he opened fire. There were shots and curses, and he was just about to exit the room and confront their unwanted guests head-on when Fenrir suddenly pulled him back.
“They’ll be wearing gas masks,” the omega warned.
Right, the Wardrobe hadn’t made it this high up the criminal ladder by being complete idiots. No one in their right mind would plan to ambush a dominant alpha unprepared to stave off his pheromones.
Unless his targets could smell them, pheromones would be useless.
“We have to get to a better fighting ground,” Oberon said. “The upper level is too tight, and I’ll run out of bullets before getting them all.”
“How do you know how many there are?” Fenrir asked.