16. Match Game

Chapter Sixteen

MATCH GAME

Bramley

I f my mother were here, I know exactly what she’d say to me.

Stop fighting it, Bramley. The sooner you do, the happier you’ll be.

Then she’d call me a dumbass and continue to give me shit until I told her she was right.

My mother isn’t here, and I’d rather choke on my tongue than admit that I found my scent match.

I didn’t realize what that actually means, though. I should have, it was intense when I met Nash, and again when we found Clayton. We don’t have that specific connection but when I saw them, I knew. It was like something inside of me stood up and roared, it claimed them as soon as we were sharing space, and I’ve been with them ever since.

After almost two decades, I still feel that way. One look, one word. The sound of their voices, their scents, everything about them has become absolutely vital to me. Their goddamn presence in my life is just as important and intense as it was so long ago, and I’ve done a shitty job of showing them that, but it’s how I feel.

I won’t let them go because of it.

The idea alone has me raging, has my anger spiking right along with something I’m not used to; the idea of losing either of them is terrifying.

Discovering I not only have a scent match, but actually finding her?

I should have known what that shit was going to do to me, but I’ve been so busy trying to deny it, I didn’t realize how crazy I really feel.

Which is bonafide certifiable.

The urge, the insatiable need to be near her is all but consuming. From the first time I was able to truly take in her scent, I’ve wanted nothing more than to be in her presence. Red fucking poppies. I want the smell of them on my skin, in my fucking mouth, I want it burned into my DNA. I want to smell those goddamn flowers on Nash and Clayton, mixing with their honey and shortbread. I want the scent on my cock, on my knot. I fucking need it.

It’s all I can do to stay away from her, but I have.

I’ve forced myself to stay away, as far from Indy as I can possibly get, but even with miles between us, she’s still with me.

I can see her in my mind’s eye as clear as day; her soft black hair with the shock of red, the classic, elegant features of her face, her fair skin. Those goddamn scars.

Staying away from Indigo is the only choice I have, but every day that passes makes the decision to do so even harder than before.

My control is slipping.

I don’t really have control over myself, not that I did before but having Indy walk into my room at Nan’s made it worse, and seeing her go a little feral over watching them try to strap me down… There’s a word for the feeling that stirred, but it’s not one I’m willing to use.

After that? It was like I was on autopilot.

Most of my rational thought dissolved into one brain cell that kept me functioning on a primal level.

I growled, I fucking barked at her, and if I hadn’t been dosed with a fuckton of morphine, the immediate obedience would have resulted in a wildly inappropriate display of dominance after literally ignoring the female for months.

Can’t deny that I liked it.

Again, it’s something that can get intense with Nash and Clay.

The power exchange between my alpha and I is always a rush, even more so when he finally submits, and our beta’s bratty tendencies can get me going the same way.

My scent match, our omega’s instant submission? Yeah, if I wasn’t well on my way to high as fuck, I might have nutted under these hideous floral sheets.

Which would have made things way more awkward than just staring at her like a goddamn creep the rest of the time she was here.

I did that, though.

Stared at Indy from the time she rushed the bed, all the way until Nan took her out of the room to get something to eat. I couldn’t stop staring at her.

And she stared back.

It was bizarre and kind of erotic, but I have to give the omega credit because she did not take those indigo colored eyes off of me. Not once.

My reaction to her, as well as our exchange definitely weirded everyone out. I’m sure they appreciated it to a degree since I was easier to stab and stitch, but I don’t know how much of that can be attributed to Indy or the morphine. Either way, my dad gave me the strangest look I think I’ve ever seen on his face, Ezekiel was just smirking at me, and my partners kept alternating between angry, annoyed, and relieved.

I’m sure most people would have considered what went down—including getting shot multiple times—their come to Jesus moment. They’d change their ways, turn their life around, and get it on the right track.

Most people would take all of that as a sign to accept their fucking scent match, bond the pack, and start on some sort of happy forever kind of bullshit.

I’m not most people.

If anything, every single event that’s taken place since I fought with Nash until right now has only validated why I won’t accept Indy for what she is to me.

I don’t need an omega, and definitely not one that could easily drive me to obsession.

That type of connection, the bond of a scent match is no fucking joke, and I know for a fact ours would be stronger than I can probably wrap my head around. And that means it can’t happen.

The more intense the bond, the greater the loss.

And there will be loss.

As long as Bryce Harden is alive, any omega that finds themself in Obsidian Falls is in danger, and our omega is no exception.

“How long have you been awake?” Nan asks as she backs into the room, a large tray in her hands with something steaming on top of it. “You were supposed to call for me.”

“Not long.” I watch her set it down on the dresser then go back to staring at the fireplace, watching the embers as their glow dims.

I’ve actually been awake almost this entire time, I think I slept for maybe an hour after everyone cleared out, and the rest of the time I’ve been sitting in this fucking bed thinking about what I’m going to do.

“Your people are outside the door.”

I nod. “I know.”

“All three of them.”

Rolling my eyes, I push myself up a little higher, wincing as a few of my wounds pinch. “Don’t.”

Nan swings her head in my direction, her icy eyes narrowed. “You already did.”

“I didn’t do shit.”

“Bramley Ambrose, don’t you forget, I know what this is like.” She grabs what I now smell to be her salve, piping hot and not even close to ready to be applied, then marches toward me. “You know I do.”

“Fuck,” I all but yelp as she slaps a huge blob of lava on the bullet hole in my chest. How the hell can she even touch that with her bare hands?

“Don’t be a baby,” she scolds. One thin, white eyebrow arches as she rubs in the salve. “Then again, that’s the only way you’ve been acting since Indy girl showed up.”

“I said, don’t.”

“And I said I can do what I damn well please.”

“Nan, I’m not—Jesus!” Another glob of Satan’s snot is dropped onto my body and I swear this is some form of torture.

Confirmed when my grandmother grins like a jerk. “You’re a giant baby. One who can’t handle anything going on in your life at the moment.”

Keeping my mouth shut, I grit my teeth and go back to the dying fire.

I can’t do this with her, not right now.

My instincts are going apeshit with Indigo being so close to me, it’s clouding my thoughts, and I need to be able to get her in here for five minutes before I change my mind completely.

“Call her in.”

Nan freezes, her hand suspended above my arm, her weapon of choice at the ready. “Who?”

“Who the hell do you think?” I roll my eyes but I don’t dare look at her.

My grandmother knows me better than almost anyone else, and I can’t lie to her because of it. I need to avoid eye contact and get her to do what I’m asking, then she can lose her shit once I carry out my half assed plan.

“Why?” She huffs as she crosses her arms, the salve dropping to the floor with a thud. “I don’t trust this.”

She shouldn’t. “Just get her in here, ok?”

Nan stares at me for a few moments, suspicion written all over her face, but then she nods her head, shrugs her shoulders, and proceeds to glare at me until she’s in the hall.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, stealing my spine the best I can in the last few seconds of normalcy I’m going to have for a while. What I’m about to do could easily change the entire course of my life, as well as a few others, and I need to make sure I’m ready to actually do it.

This is for the best.

It’s really the only way.

Omegas are in danger here.

I don’t need one, anyway.

Who the fuck decided a murderer gets a scent match?

A soft knock on the door has my eyes opening, and when Indy cautiously comes through, I feel like all the air has been sucked out of the room.

Wide purplish-blue eyes blink at me from underneath the hood of a sweatshirt while she chews the inside of her cheek. Indy is wringing her hands, hands that are tucked into the sleeves of her hoodie, the material twisted in her fingers so tightly it’s probably scraping her skin. Unlike the loose, black sweats she’s wearing, they definitely don’t fit her and might even be better suited for Nash or me. She’s nervously shifting her weight from socked foot to socked foot, the same kind Clayton wears and for some reason, that gets to me.

She could be wearing their clothes.

It wouldn’t be a total shocker, not when you consider the time they’ve spent together. But I know they’ve shopped for her so it doesn’t make a lot of sense for her to wear something of theirs when she has her own things. Unless…

Unless it’s an omega thing.

An omega who has somewhat bonded with the alpha and beta caring for her.

My mom used to do that, she had a closet full of nothing but my dads’ clothes. Mainly stuff they’d worn and not washed, that way she had their scents at her disposal, and it was because they were her mates.

Her mates, her protectors. Her safe space, and comfort.

If Indy is wearing stuff that belongs to Clayton and Nash…

That thought is almost enough to make me crack.

Almost.

“You don’t need to speak, just listen,” I grunt, a definite edge to my tone thanks to my conflicting feelings. “Understood?”

Indy nods, her eyes on mine for a few fleeting moments before they drop to her feet.

I hate seeing her this way.

But this is the only way.

“You need to leave.” She flinches and my stomach churns. “As soon as possible, you have to leave Obsidian Falls. Find somewhere else, anywhere else to start over, but you can’t do it here.”

Her shoulders slump and it almost looks like Indy is curling in on herself.

This is the only way.

“Whatever thoughts or feelings you have when it comes to Nash and Clay, forget them.” I can see her fight the urge to look up, to say something to me, but I can’t let that happen. I just need to get through this. “They’re mine, not yours, and they never will be, so whatever fantasy you’ve conjured up can’t happen. We helped when you needed it, made sure you could get back to functional and now that we have, it’s time for you to go. Honestly, you’ve overstayed your welcome.”

My heart pinches as I watch Indigo wrap her arms around her waist and hold tight.

“I don’t care about where you came from, and I don’t give a shit about where you’re going.” There’s anger in my voice now and while it isn’t actually directed at her, I need her to believe it is. “I want my life back, and I can’t have that until you’re gone.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

I told her not to speak but I’d give anything to hear her say something, anything right now. I want her to fight me, to defy me, to tell me to go to hell or fuck off. I need Indy to say she’s staying and she doesn’t give a damn what I have to say about it, that she doesn’t care what I want because she wants to be here, with us, and there isn’t anything I can do to change that.

None of that happens.

Instead, we sit in silence, nothing but the sound of an occasional pop from the fireplace, and the fabric where Indigo is rubbing her hoodie, trying to comfort herself against my few but shitty words.

Then… Then this female—my female—drives the dagger I’m wielding right through my heart.

“Ok,” she whispers, then adds, “I’m sorry.”

As I watch her walk out of the room, eyes downcast and head hanging in some sort of pain, I know I did the right thing.

Even if it feels so goddamn wrong.

Indy didn’t leave.

Bram tried to kick her out of not only our house but our lives just over a week ago, but she didn’t leave.

She was ready to.

She wouldn’t tell us exactly what Bramley said, just that she needed to find somewhere else to go, and I don’t think I’ve hurt so much for someone else since Maeve died.

For having them in my mouth a hell of a lot over the better part of the last two decades, I had no idea how big Bram’s balls are. They’re fucking huge for thinking he can kick our omega, his goddamn scent match, out without a fight. Honestly, he’s lucky he didn’t get more of one.

Nash was ready.

I swear that alpha was going to charge Bram’s room at Nan’s house and beat the shit out of him, bullet holes or not, and even though it was totally warranted, I managed to talk him out of it.

We went down that road already, it didn’t work, and since I’m not about to ask Indy to go talk to him, we needed a new plan.

Now, we’re handling things my way.

“Do you think Indy will like this?” Bramley’s shoulders bunch up to his ears as I turn my phone toward him. His back is to me, and it has been this entire time, but it doesn’t really matter. “I think so. She looks so good in dark colors. Against her complexion, it makes her eyes really pop.”

His cleaver comes down like a fucking battle axe, cracking against the wood block, and misses the rack of lamb entirely.

He’s so pissed.

Bram hasn’t said one word since I decided to come annoy the hell out of him at the shop. Nothing. Not even a fuck off. And I’m taking it as a good sign.

My alphas are on the outs, I don’t know if they’ve even seen each other since he tried to give Indy the boot, and that’s working in my favor as well.

He won’t say it but it eats at Bram when he and Nash are fighting.

Right now, I’m banking on it because I think it’ll only help with my plan.

They’re on the outs, Bramley feels like shit about it. Indy is still here and she’s hurting, Bramley feels like shit about that, too. I’m the only one who’ll have anything to do with him and I’ve done nothing but talk about Indigo Rae, and that makes him feel like shit and drives him crazy.

I’m going to get this man to crack, I know I will, and when I do, we can get on with our happy, horny, murdery little life.

Going without sex and murder is getting to me, not to mention I love being in love with these people, so I need to get us back on track.

“Oh, this is cute.” I turn my phone again, showing the huge stuffed unicorn to the back of Bramley’s head before I add it to my cart. “It’s cuddle size.”

He pauses, shakes his head, and goes back to hacking up the new order of sheep.

Then I grin to myself as I start searching for something else. “Indy is a great cuddler.”

The cleaver goes flying, shooting backward right out of Bram’s hand before it crashes into the stainless steel counter then slowly skids before it stops.

“Goddamn bullshit,” he mumbles as he lumbers over to the sink and retrieves his last clean butcher knife—because he’s done this three times already—and as soon as he passes me, I push off the adjoining counter and shove my phone in his face.

“What do you think about this?”

Bramley freezes, goes stock still, but those cold, blue eyes speak volumes.

They widen over what’s on my screen, then they blink a few times, then they narrow to slits before lifting to mine. “Why in the fuck do you need that?”

Dramatically rolling my eyes, I lean back and cross my legs at the ankle. “It’s not for Indy. Not really. Not directly.”

Bram’s eyes turn into slits. If I could see his knuckles, I know they’d be white.

“It’s for me,” I say matter of fact, adding the item to my cart as my alpha tries to burn a hole in my head. “I mean, it’s for both of us.”

“I repeat,” Bram growls, his voice low and menacing. “Why. The fuck. Do you need a strap on?”

Lifting my gaze right along with my shit eating grin, I decide now is exactly when I’m going to push my big unhinged man directly over the edge. “So, hear me out. I already explained all of this to Nash and he thinks it’s a good idea.” I swear I see smoke coming from his ears. “We don’t know where she came from, but it’s obvious that Indigo Rae has some serious hesitation when it comes to men, and not just because she was half dead when she came to us.” Bram’s hands ball into fists and I can’t help but grin. “My educated guess is, Indy was abused, treated very poorly, and given minimal to no control over anything in her life.”

Which is the truth.

Nash and I have talked a lot about it, actually, and we came to that conclusion. He thinks she could have spent time in Blackhurst like he did, her appearance and demeanor would support it, but I disagree. Indy doesn’t have the rough edge that someone who lives in an asylum earns, even if it checks off several other boxes.

I think she might have been sex trafficked.

Her scars, the way she carries herself, how Indy seems to know how to be an omega but never was allowed to do so, it all feels like someone who was sold into a situation they didn’t want solely because of who they are, then forced to only be that in very specific ways. And since omegas are rare in this area, and the ones who live here are either prisoners of the ranch or packed up and safe, it could explain why she was dumped the way she was.

She might be timid but there is a fire in our girl, and if she tapped into it and crossed the wrong buyer, they easily could have left her for dead in an extremely remote area.

That ravine is fucking remote.

It’s why I picked it.

Again, all of this could also mean she was a patient at Blackhurst like Nash, but not everything adds up, so out of the two of us, I think I’m right, but we won’t ever know until Indy tells us.

Which she may never do.

And that brings me back to why I’m buying a strap on.

“Since that is definitely our omega’s case, I want to give her that control back.” I look up at Bram and smile like I’m not trying to piss him off enough to stop being a dickhead. “She’ll be going into heat at some point, probably soon considering how long she’s been here, and if she’s had crappy sexual experiences before now, I want to try to get her comfortable for when we help her through it.”

Kaboom .

Bramley turns thirty shades of red, his breaths coming in short puffs of air through his mask while the vein in his forehead looks like it’s going to burst. “Out.”

I frown and play a little stupid. “Nash told you, didn’t he? Well, I thought he did but if not, I guess I am now. We want to help Indigo Rae go through her heat. She’ll need a knot, Nash has one, I can play referee and hopefully get my pickle tickled in the process, but I don’t think she’s going to jump on board right away because of her previous experience.” Also, true. Plus, Nan has been trying to drill the point home that we need to be careful with Indy, as well as cherish the fuck out of her. Especially while her scent match is gunning for asshole of the century. “I figure, buy the strap on, show her the ropes, let her fuck me while Nash eats her pussy or something, really make it all about her and what she wants, then she’ll be all comfy with us for the big hot.”

Without warning, Bram loses his fucking shit and sends his fist right through the wall next to my head. White powder explodes all over the side of my face, chunks of drywall fly like shrapnel, and when I jerk my head back before something else terrible happens, I see my alpha elbow deep in the wall.

“Out,” he growls, his stare locked on his buried fist. “Get out, Clayton.”

Lifting my hands in surrender, I grin in victory and push off the wall. “Fine. Jeez. I thought you’d want to know.” I brush the pieces of chalky shit off my hoodie and shake them out of my hair. “You might not want her but it doesn’t mean she isn’t part of our pack. Which also means I don’t technically have to tell you if Nash and I decide to fuck our pretty little omega.” Bramley yanks his hand free and spins on me, but I hustle past him the best I can with a bum leg and evil laugh before he knocks me out. “But, dickhead or not, I love you, and I want you to know where my cock goes when you aren’t playing with it.”

The cleaver whizzes past my head as I barely get through the doorway, cackling my ass off while I listen to Bram begin trashing the back of his shop.

Funny enough, the only thing I feel a little guilty about from that entire exchange, is the way I talked about Indy. Not because any of that was lies, I plan on making good on all of that and more if she lets us, but if she really has had nothing but terrible experiences with shitty alphas or whoever, I don’t want to be so crude when I talk about her.

Not yet, anyway.

I will get her comfortable enough to have fun with me and Nashy, and then I’ll be crude and crass as fuck, but not yet.

Full disclosure? It might be part of my plan to force Bramley into certain things, or to make him think about them at least, but I don’t like this.

I hate when we’re on the outs, I hate when it takes a million years to come back to each other, and I really hate that we’re in a situation where we should be closer than we’ve ever been but are actually so distant I’m not sure how to bridge the gap.

I want my alphas back. I want my omega. I want someone to tell me they love me, put something in my ass, play with my balls, and call me a good boy. Then I want them to promise me we get to dismember a human afterward.

If only that damn pediatrician could see me now.

He’d probably shit knowing I’m totally, sickeningly in love with three people. Like, I will absolutely die for them, easily kill for them. I’d burn the world to the ground for those three. We even have a house and shit, and I get to murder in my free time.

Yeah, that quack would absolutely lose his mind over the psychopath living the good life, but I am. Well, I was, and I plan on doing so again very, very soon.