End of Chapter 20

"It's you," the zeus murmured, observing her, electricity thudding across her collarbone. She was surprised to stay alive, to stay lucid under the crackles of each flash, each sting, each burning flicker. "I thought I felt something. I suppose I was right."

"You're with the soldiers?" she spat, croaking, fingers clawing at his hold. But for the first time in a while, she couldn't break free, and his eyes swayed. Fingers growing tighter around her pulse, he observed her with too blue eyes, thumb against her heartbeat. It soared.

"I'm out, inspecting…" His eyes drifted to her broken bags, feet kicking at something she couldn't see. "Why do you need this?"

"What's it to you?" she snapped, terror lacing her mind. It wasn't the suppressant rolling on the floor, was it? She wondered then which bag she'd tossed out while running. Was it the one with the suppressants or the one with the blockers? His eyes narrowed, sniffed, nose pressed to her scent gland, inhaling deep, the dart of it had her body shivering. Her pussy clenching like an idiot. His nose on her skin was like fire. "Let me go!"

"A mere rat," he said, running his fucking nose up and down her nape like a dog. "Yet you've turned my den inside out. Why should we keep you? Aside from your fun little ability to stop a Rampage. Surely, it won't last long. I don't enjoy depending on guides." His lips curled, dimples showing. "And I don't like it when my pack's contingent on your approval."

"What pack?" she snapped. "Levi?" His eyes darted to the shadows at the mention. And for a moment her heart thundered faster, hope flooding her veins. Perhaps the stupid hades were here, would answer with a call of his name. But Dante's eyes went back to her face, a smirk on his lips. Her hope faded like sand in the wind.

"He listens to me."

"Of course, he does," she choked, hands on his that clung tight around her throat, but not enough to stop her from talking or breathing. It was odd that the electricity was warm. That it swayed sweet across her skin. That it rumbled like the gentle purring of a cat. "You're a goddamn zeus!"

"You know, and yet you do not grovel," he stated. "Have you always kissed death and laughed at his face?" Dante's voice was low, growing velvety with sin. And briefly she was reminded of the taste of his mouth, caramel sticky, the zaps of his tongue, the fondle and grope of his suckles. His hand on her ass. Dante was touchy and danger.

"I try not to," she spat, held her tongue on the curses that would usually flow. "I won't bother you ever again. Just let me go."

"Beg," he whispered, joy flickering in his eyes. He towered her then, all Alpha, all dominance, all fucking control. And she was sinking into his aura, his hold. She was sure he'd smell so good. And her insides churned, body coiling, frantic, vivid, delicious, and sore. Something about him changed her, but she wouldn't allow it to.

"Please," she hissed, clouding her voice with syrup. A sneer hidden behind all that cotton candy sweetness. "Pretty, pretty please, kind sir?" And this had him scoffing, clearly reading her like an open book. Rue cursed at her own attitude, at her idiocy.

"Such a brat," he considered idly, "but you're sweeter today. It makes me a little dizzy."

His hands roamed, and before she knew it, his fingers were down there. On her inner thighs, tracing upwards, moulding buttery soft flesh, fondling sensitive skin over her pants. His thumb was inching higher to her fake fucking dick, and her weeping pussy, growing closer to the source of all her troubles. FUCK! And her hand raised, a slap across his cheek. Blood blossoming, a thin line across his cheekbone.

He hissed, dropped her to the ground. "Insolent fool."

His eyes moved to the ring on her finger, Valentino's handmade ring. She wondered why she hadn't bothered to take it off. Dante's lips pursed into a thin, angry line, holding his cheek. For a moment, she believed he would kill her. That he'd take her back with cuffs, put her in jail for some stupid fucking reason.

He could do it. He worked for the Royal Family after all. But his thumb moved to his lip. And she watched in horror as he took a tentative criminal lick. It parted from his tongue, shiny and wet with spit, like spiderweb silk, saliva sticky. He tasted and groaned.

"There's an Omega's slick on you," he whispered, "One that I quite like." He inhaled, tasted his thumb, fingers that touched her jeans, fabric that had grown too soaked from his presence, dripping with unnecessary want. Her body like ice cream melting, hot and sticky for his Alpha. He was tasting her. "Tell me, where did you get it?"

"Remains from a good fuck," Rue hissed, fingers trembling, praying that the cup would hold. That the last of that cursed drug would stay in her bloodstream. That the slick running down her thighs did not betray her truth, because she'd be taken here and now. He'd fuck her, she knew he would. "I'll tell you if you leave me alone."

"Ah," Dante shook his head, tongue to the corner of his cheek. "You're not here to make bargains. If I have to, I'd suck it off your cock," He hissed, and her clit throbbed at his words. God. "It's potent. Was she a harlot? A whore on the street?"

"Yes," Rue answered, "paid a coin. It was good." His words calmed her. Dante believed her to be male, and that gave her the strength. "Dressed in blue, red eyes, red lips." A description that described everyone on the street. And Dante seemed to know with a snort.

"You lie, I've not smelled such an Omega," he stated with a smile, "And I can smell them all from miles away." Rue cursed. "There's not one Omega out there that calms my Rut the way this does, and I suppose it is why you'd buy such a powerful drug." He purred, stalking off, weapons sheathed. She did not know he had them out, guns buzzing and ready to blow her head off. He turned briefly, head cocked. "She'd die if I touch her, as they all do. So you'll collect her slick for me in exchange for my silence. Won't you?"

"What are you going to do?" she snapped back, fingers digging into her jeans. Her eyes were on the drugs in his hands. He had her blockers, not the suppressants. He believed she had blockers for an unknown, faceless Omega girl. Her confidence boosted, her lips moved with feigned ease. "Drink slick down in a shot glass?"

He snorted, eyes narrowing, dimples flickering prettily. "Maybe."

A/N:

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