6. Riot

Chapter 6

Riot

Sinclair

G oing into this week’s brotherhood night feels different from last time. Not only because I’m sober, but I don’t have the same itching burn for retribution in my veins. Last event, I was so lust-drunk that I could chase nothing but my own desires, consequences be damned.

And one of those desires was making Titus Cerulean hurt .

Now, as I sit on Bishop’s lap, secure and protected, I can’t help but feel a little . . . I don’t know. It’s not exactly that I feel sorry for Titus, but I feel something other than raging hatred.

He rebuffed my thanks after the Vigilance Trial, but it felt forced. Like the hostility was no longer there, like he was flippant because that’s how he thinks he needs to be. Then yesterday, he was the one that offered to guard the closet when I was reeling from the meeting.

A lewd but thoughtful gesture.

It’s weird. I don’t get it. How can I feel anything even remotely close to forgiveness, let alone gratitude, after everything he’s done?

I take in his profile as he scrutinizes something across the room. His forehead is fretted in focus and the muscle at the back of his jaw is tight and strong. His body’s ever-present tension is still visible under his nice suit, though at first glance, he might seem at ease.

In one smooth, confident move, he flicks the button on his suit jacket open and rocks forward to rest his elbows on his knees. My stomach flips as I imagine all that heated focus on me .

As if sensing my inner squirming, his eyes slice suddenly to mine. I freeze, unable to tear my gaze away or even to pretend I haven’t been staring at him. My throat swallows a dry knot as he sits back and sharpens his glare.

“ What? ” he demands suspiciously. Bishop’s hand on my thigh tightens protectively.

“You look good tonight, Titty.” I can’t help but say it with a teasing tone, though I mean it genuinely. He looks unjustly good in a suit. Handsome, but still intimidating and fierce. Nothing can completely hide the dangerous predator he is.

For a second, the tension in his face drops and he looks almost sweet. The same way I’d imagine a tiger right before it bites your head off.

It doesn’t last long, as if he were simply caught off guard by my compliment. His untrusting scowl quickly returns.

“Dude, you need to learn to chill out—you’re gonna give yourself an aneurysm,” Ecker says, returning from getting drinks, pushing one into Titus’s hand.

He holds up the glass tumbler of amber liquid. “I asked for beer.”

“They weren’t serving any,” Ecker replies, making Titus groan. “Think of it as concentrated beer,” he adds with a side smile before setting his drink down and turning toward me.

Hunger darkens his features. He roughly clasps my chin and tilts my face up to land a searing kiss on my lips.

There’s nothing timid about it. He kisses me like he has everything and nothing to prove.

I belong to him and he belongs to me. Yet, the reckless abandon with which he kisses makes everyone in the room disappear, and I know this moment is for no one else but us.

He pulls away with a smirk, and I rock back into Bishop, breathless. He drags his hand away, until a single finger tilts my chin up.

He makes a small, satisfied sound and murmurs, “My girl.”

“Jesus Christ, can we get through one event without any fucking.” Titus scoffs and takes a heavy sip, slumping down in his chair.

My cheeks heat. “It was just a kiss.”

He side-eyes me, unconvinced and unamused. “Yeah, and yesterday was just a meeting.”

Bishop sits up straighter, jostling me in his lap. “I hear you. It won’t happen, promise,” he says, all while I feel him growing harder.

“Speak for yourself—” Ecker begins but quickly stops and holds his hands up in surrender when Bishop and Titus shoot him warning glares. “ Fine. Does this extend to cock-warming too or . . .”

“ Yes! ” Bishop, Titus, and I yell at the same time.

He looks at me with mock offense. “Not you too?”

“It’s a miracle we didn’t get caught yesterday. Let’s not push our luck.” I laugh as he flops down into the third seat in the trio of armchairs, defeated.

Then, a small smirk tugs on his lips, and I’m already rolling my eyes when he says, “But maybe there’s another closet nearby.”

He still has the split lip from the night he chased me and I bit him. He flicks his gaze to Bishop’s hand resting on my bare thigh and lazily runs his tongue over the cut as if he’s hoping to find a taste of me left. The idea that he might has my pussy slickening and my arousal perfuming the air.

“ Omega . . . , ” Titus growls under his breath, and I squeeze my thighs together.

“I can’t help it,” I hiss back.

“I, for one, love the way you smell,” Bishop whispers.

His hand moves the most minuscule amount up the slit in my dress and his lips dust the shell of my ear as he speaks. “Love the way your pussy is always so wet and needy.” I shiver. He continues, “Love that you’re always ready and eager for your alphas’ cocks, no matter where we are or who we’re around. Your body is always begging for us.”

“ Bish ,” I whine quietly, pleading with him to stop torturing me. Yet, I can’t help but squirm in his lap, aching to feel his hard cock against me. A rough, throaty sound escapes him, and I feel a zing of electricity through our bond. Desire, lust, wanting .

I jump up. “I, uh, I think I do want a drink after all.”

Ecker moves to stand up. “I’ll come with you—”

I fling my hand out. “ No .”

He chuckles and sits back down. “Suit yourself, mate .” The way he drawls that last word makes my blood heat.

“ Jesus , get it together,” I mutter to myself under my breath as I walk away, blushing.

As I step up to the bar, the man to my left turns in my direction. He looks me up and down with a sleazy grin and props his elbow on the bartop.

I recognize him as Stefan, one of the Cyan alphas. Gross.

As I wait for the bartender, I do my best to ignore him, but he’s as easy to ignore as a buzzing mosquito, twirling the toothpick from a martini between his teeth. How something so small can be so irritating . . .

I finally snap. “ Can I help you ?”

“I was wondering—”

“Noble gentlemen and omegas,” a booming voice interrupts, and everyone’s attention spins to a podium across the room.

The boisterous space falls silent in a way that sends eerie chills prickling the back of my neck.

The Azurite Elder stands poised and sharp in a classic tuxedo behind the microphone. With all eyes on him, he reaches into his coat pocket and withdraws an envelope. “For you, ma’am?” the male servant behind the bar asks, making me jump. Stefan notices and snickers with an amused sneer, and oh , how I wish I could just slap him.

I reel in my temper and quickly place my order, grabbing the drink as soon as the bartender slides it my way and hurrying back to my pack.

The Azurite at the podium has made such a show of slowly opening the envelope that by the time I reach the guys, he’s only just now unfurling the letter inside.

I shove the beer bottle in my hand at Titus and slip back into Bishop’s lap. “Ecker was being a twat.” He takes it with a confused look and his eyes jump between me and the drink with caution.

Frustrated and on edge from the interaction at the bar, I grab it and take a big swig before handing it back.

“See, not poisoned.” I huff.

Ecker laughs, and Bishop wraps an arm around my waist with a soft chuckle against my neck. Titus frowns but takes a pull nonetheless as the Azurite resumes his announcement. “It is my honor to announce the results of the Vigilance Trial.”

Bishop shifts me in his lap as he sits up straighter to listen. I cover his hand on my stomach with my own, that ominous chill returning.

“In fifth place, for one point is the Cobalt pack, Alphas Emmett, Elias, Theodore.” A small smattering of applause follows. “In fourth place, securing three points, is the Cyan pack, Alphas Yves, Eric, and Stefan.”

Ecker visibly relaxes now that we’ve at least made it to the top three. Titus, on the other hand, still has a death grip on the bottle neck, and I bet if I listened super closely, I would hear his teeth crack. Man needs to learn to chill.

Though, I can’t deny the anxiety roiling in my own stomach, and I don’t even know what we’re fighting for. I thought passing the Trials was all that mattered. I didn’t realize there were winners and losers within that too.

The Berylls come in third, and my nerves turn to uneasy excitement. I may not know what we’re winning, but still my heart thumps. I squeeze Bishop’s hand.

“In second place, earning a total of eight points, is Pack Cerulean, Alphas Titus, Bishop, and Ecker.”

There’s no applause. No Elders or family are present to celebrate us. The quiet rings hollow and is only amplified by Ecker’s halfhearted whoop. I resist the temptation to avert my gaze and instead hold my chin high, making eye contact with Paisley. She smiles weakly and brings her hands together, nudging her alpha to clap along with her.

It’s still faint compared to what the other packs received, but soon, the room joins in and even Titus loses some of the tension taut in his shoulders. I shoot Paisley a warm smile and hope she can feel my gratitude from across the room. I may not have family here, but I do have friends, and that’s something I never expected to be able to say.

“And last, but certainly not least, I am proud to announce the winning pack, awarded a total of fifteen points: the Azurites. Alphas William, Sebastian, Archibald, and Preston.” Roaring cheers erupt after the Elder’s final announcement, and I’m not even a little discouraged by the difference in volume.

I swivel to press my lips to Bishop’s hot cheek and feel him sigh at the brush of a touch, butterflies in my stomach and in our bond. I slide off his lap and slip into Ecker’s.

His affection is a warm wave over me as he graciously pulls me tighter. I palm his cheek with one hand and push my fingers with the other into his soft hair. He smiles up at me like a puppy, and I feel my cheeks turning pink.

“I’m proud of you,” I admit almost bashfully before giving in to the burning desire to kiss him. His skilled mouth consumes me with even the lightest pressure, his tongue gently parting the seam of my lips.

I tangle my fingers deeper into his hair. I could just melt into him—

“I suppose congratulations are in order.” Yves’s snobby voice is worse than nails on a chalkboard, dousing the moment with ice water.

“What do you want, Cyan?” Ecker growls, clearly annoyed at the interruption, his erection already digging into my bottom.

“Like I said, to congratulate you three.” None of us respond, knowing there’s a punch line coming. “Though, I’m surprised you fought so hard to get that gutter rat back.” Aaand there it is .

Bishop’s on his feet in less than a second, and I hold Ecker back with a hand on his arm, his grip on the chair whitening.

“You want to say that again?” Bishop snarls in a clear threat, and I get a small thrill when Yves can’t help but flinch back the smallest bit.

“I’m just saying, seemed like a good opportunity.”

“Yeah? A good opportunity for what?” Titus slowly stands, flexing the inches he has on the tallest Cyan alpha.

Stefan swallows then says with a forced laugh, “Oh, you know.” I can see regret and the desire to backpedal wheel in his eyes.

“No. I don’t.” Titus’s cold, flat voice feels like the sharpening of a blade, the readying to fight. “Why don’t you spell it out for me?”

“Having someone else take out the trash for you,” Yves spits out.

Bishop steps up, shoulder to shoulder with Titus, and flicks his chin at Merigold standing behind them. I notice the bruise on her cheekbone and slightly swollen eye when she tries to cover it with her long hair. “At least we can keep our omega safe.”

“A bad protector and a sore loser.” I feign a mocking wince and tsk. “Not a good look, Yves.”

He snarls in response. “If you were my omega—”

“But she isn’t, is she?” Ecker cuts him off with a taunting drawl. “She’s ours,” he says in a velvety purr, then lasciviously drags his tongue over Bishop’s claiming mark on my neck, making my eyelids grow heavy and my stomach sink with want.

I resist the urge to shut everyone out and fall into his heated touch, giving Yves one last sickly sweet smile. “I’d rather be gutter trash than your omega any day.”

The need for retaliation flares in his eyes and his jaw ticks, but one of his fellow alphas grabs his shoulder. “They’re not worth ruining the night over.” He urges him back.

Reluctantly, Yves allows his brother to turn him around. I catch a flitting smirk on Titus’s face as they walk away, and he sits back down.

“Having fun, Titty?” I ask coyly, leaning back into Ecker’s chest. His partial smile quickly fades as he looks up at me. “You seem to be enjoying yourself more than last time.”

“Yeah,” he says, just as dry and flat as usual. “It’s a fucking riot.”

Then he lifts the empty beer bottle and pretends to take a swig to cover the undeniable crack of a smile on his lips.