The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée

by L. Steele

  Adrenaline laces my blood. I curl my fingers into fists.

  That piece of shit wants me out of the way so he can take over my position. Well, he and most of those gathered here. Don’t everyone rush all at once. I snicker.

  The Scot nearest to me pales.

  He expects me to kill him. The body count I’ve left behind in the past year ensures that most fear me. But just this once, I might spare these men. Just to keep them guessing.

  I lean forward on the balls of my feet.

  The sudden movement draws a gasp from the beta. He bends and places his side of the rolled-up fabric on the floor. The other man follows.

  I take a step forward. Honestly, I don’t make any other sign of threat, I don’t even peel back my lips, or speak… well, okay, I glare at the soldier on the right.

  With an audible gulp, he turns and scampers down the big hall toward the still open doors. His partner blinks then scoots after him. My gaze is already on the piece of fabric left behind.

  “I don’t think it’s wise to open it, General,” Ethan warns.

  Since climate change unleashed tsunamis and wrecked the earth's sub-layers thirty years ago, trace metals all but vanished. Electronics can no longer be powered up and technology collapsed, leaving no means of communicating. It means the only way to check what's inside that carpet is the old fashioned way. To open it.

  “Consider yourself heard.” I crick my neck from side to side. “You’ve done your duty, Second, so can we get this charade over with?”

  Sure, his concern is genuine, and yet it doesn’t sit easily with me.

  Not since he betrayed the ex-General, AKA my dear departed father by aiding me in killing the old man.

  “Allow me, sir.” Solomon, my third, grabs the open seam of the curled-up piece of fabric. He heaves, but it doesn’t budge.

  Ethan moves to the other side, and together they tug at it. The cloth unfurls… and flattens out into a pool of turquoise and green.

  The light from the solitary skylight far above floods over it. The entire rug shimmers, as if made of liquid sunshine.

  My pulse races. The breath catches in my throat. My heart hammers as if it’s going to rip out of my ribcage.

  The next second, a figure springs up from the carpet and launches at me. Head bent, dressed all in black. There’s a blur of movement, and a blade whines through the space.

  I slide aside.

  The breeze displaced by the stranger shimmers over my neck. A flash of pain cuts through me as the blade nicks my skin.

  I thrust out my leg, and the intruder goes sprawling to the floor, only to turn in a move which should have been near impossible.

  It calls attention to the lithe lines of the body that is wrapped in that jumpsuit. The figure launches itself back at me, and I bend my knees and throw the stranger over my shoulder.

  There’s a thump behind me, and I hear the sword skitter across the wooden floor.

  I swivel around and close the distance to where the intruder leaps up from the center of the carpet.

  The colors fade, the room shrinks around me. My vision narrows in on the face, to where the dark cloth has unraveled from around the head of the stranger. Eyes of shattered green blaze at me.

  The hair on my nape rises.

  It's her, the woman from my dreams.

  A strand of dark-red hair slinks free.

  The scent of rain on cool dawn air bleeds through the space interlaced with that sugary scent of slickness.

  Blood rushes to my groin.

  Every instinct inside me goes on alert. “Omega,” I rasp.

  Lucy

  I lift my chin, then farther up, then all the way up, to meet his gaze. To call the General massive is an understatement. He is a monster. A man-mountain, the biggest, most powerful alpha I have ever seen.

  His blue eyes blaze at me.

  A ripple of fear mixed with something else—lust? Anticipation?— tightens my stomach.

  His face is all hard planes and dark angles. Long black hair flows to his shoulders. His lower lip is full, obscenely so. It should have softened his looks, instead it only heightens the feeling of danger that clings to him like a rich coat.

  It's the exact opposite of the faded vest that clings to his torso.

  His clothes strike a jarring note in the middle of the most prosperous pocket of this city, which is where we are; but it suits this alpha. Declares exactly what he is: an asshole who doesn’t give a damn about anyone else.

  Who takes pleasure in surprising his friends and outwitting his enemies—no, he doesn’t have friends… doesn’t need friends… or lovers or… how would he be as a lover? A dominant? A male who’d take without mercy? That feminine, omega core of me quivers in anticipation.

  A pulse flares to life between my thighs.

  An age-old instinct deep inside awakens and insists that this alpha will make sure I am pleasured. He’ll bite me, lick me, suck me… and a piercing wave of desire twists my stomach.

  Heat flushes my skin, and yet I feel cold, so cold.

  I try to take a step forward, and it’s as if my feet are weighed down.

  The alpha lifts his chin, thrusts out his chest and the force of his dominance crashes over me. My breath catches in my chest. I can’t move. Can’t think. Can’t do anything but stare at his face, drink in his features. Open my heart and absorb every last particle of impact that his sheer charisma has on me.

  I want to trace that long, hooked nose of his. To close the distance between us and bite his square, pronounced jaw. Lick it, nibble on it, then pull his head down between my thighs and make him rub his hard whiskers across my sensitive core.

  Heat floods my skin.

  My nipples tighten.

  I don’t need to look down at my breasts to know they’re thrusting out, the sharpness of my arousal a palpable outline against the material.

  He must know the effect he has on me, for the strong cords of his throat ripple. His sculpted chest seems to widen as he straightens and plants his arms on his trim hips. His powerful shoulders block out the sight of the room. His entire presence sucks up the air in the space.

  The strength of his personality is a visceral force that crashes into me and threatens to overpower me.

  I want to reach for the throbbing space between my legs and relieve the pressure that is building in my womb. What is happening to me?

  “Do you know what I do to those who cross my path?” He growls.

  The rich sound grates over my sensitized nerve endings and shudders straight to my center.

  My thighs quiver, my stomach trembles, and I thrust my pelvis forward in blatant invitation. It’s as if my body has already arrived at a decision and the rest of me is struggling to catch up.

  I grit my teeth. "I am sure you are going to tell me." I am not sure where that need to stand up to him comes from; I confess I am not thinking straight. Not when my heart pounds in my rib cage, my pulse thuds in my veins and the beat between my thighs seems to echo the fear.

  Anticipation stretches my belly.

  It's as if there is this instinct inside me that is tuned into him.

  He growls again, and the sound tugs at my nerves, rolls over me and surrounds me. It's like nothing I have ever heard. Moisture pools in my core. The scent of slick bleeds into the air. I gasp. No, not now. I can’t be heading straight into a heat cycle, not when I am here on a mission. Is it the adrenaline of the attack that has brought on this sudden wave of need?

  His lips, those sensuous lips, tighten. A pulse ticks to life at his temple, and his cheeks flush, as he looks down at me from his superior height.

  I should feel emboldened that I am having an effect on him, the most powerful alpha in all the land, but all I feel is a writhing need to challenge. To ask. To submit to his every demand. And that confuses me.

  I am an omega but am not a submissive; the warring of the two sides of my personality is a fact of life for me. One that has made me an anomaly in this world where geneti
c mutation has divided the human race into three sub-species. The same mutation equipped the alphas with the ability to knot the omegas in order to increase the chances of breeding. Nature's way of trying to compensate for a rapidly declining world population.

  That I am omega was established by the heat cycles that puberty brought on. I’d managed to hide myself away during the worst of them.

  Heat suppressants were outlawed in an agreement between the alphas of the most powerful countries in the world. Even black market supplies of the precious chemicals had been tracked down and burned.

  I should have felt more bitter about it, except that I have never felt even the remotest interest to lay with any alpha. So far. Not until this monster.

  I need him, yet I want to fight him.

  I must show him he can’t just take. Not without paying a price first. Not without begging, pleading, making me scream. The images in my head are so vivid that my knees quake, and I push my boot-clad feet into the dirt for purchase.

  He angles his head and peels back his lips. I am sure he can see every single emotion, every nuance of feeling that trembles over me right now.

  There is so much cruelty in his look… so much lust… so much everything.

  The hair on the nape of my neck rises.

  Every single emotion that I have fought against my entire life, denied myself, all of it drips from his gaze.

  I can’t look away.

  It's as if I am watching everything unfold in front of me from a distance.

  I clench my fingers, my muscles strain, and I try once more to move. It only sends another pulse of pain through me. It is as if simply being in this particular alpha’s presence is weighing me down, making me feel like I am already in his control.

  How is that possible?

  The General takes a step forward, and his scent slams into me. Earthy, woodsy, and liberally laced with pheromones.

  My belly clenches. My womb spasms. Slick pools between my legs and slides down my inner thighs.

  Setting my jaw, I square my shoulders, only for another burst of pain to radiate out from my center.

  I arch my back, thrust my breasts out at the keening need that grips me.

  I wrap my arms around my waist and cannot stop the groan that ripples up my throat. Even to my own ears it feels more like an invitation, a call to the alpha to do what he was born to do to an omega. To mate me, knot me, and make that pain inside me go away.

  To fill that emptiness that is once again writhing, gnawing, and tearing at me; growing inside me with every passing millisecond until it feels like I am just one big mass of yearning that will not stop. Not until he slams into me, and no, no, no! This can’t be happening.

  I’d starved myself of food for days to make sure my libido was at an all-time low; I'd also calculated the time of the month to make sure I was between heat cycles… I hadn't counted on the proximity to this particular alpha sending me straight into one.

  My head spins with the overload of endorphins that my overwrought nervous system is dumping into my blood. All brought on by his presence. Him. He’s the reason why my body is responding with such primal need. The omega in me recognizes him. Only him.

  My pulse thuds in my head; my vision blurs.

  Pain cramps my womb, and I double over.

  Over the years, the shortage of omegas has led to alphas exploiting them, taking them at will. As he no doubt intends to overpower me now.

  I will not let him do that. I straighten in time to see the General stalk toward me. His masculine presence tugs at my nerves, pushes down on my skin, sinks into my blood and makes my head spin.

  Heat sweeps over my skin and heads to my lower belly. My core weeps.

  All my life I have tried to hide what I am. An omega. The receiver, the nurturer whose insides are starved of an alpha’s touch, who has been deprived of the sensory stimulation that only comes from an alpha’s rut. Now, his scent, that concentrated testosterone, sinks into my blood, forcing a reaction.

  My womb cramps, and a fresh burst of slick gushes down between my legs to wet my pants. I don’t dare look down, don’t dare acknowledge the liquid pooling under me.

  I should be mortified, ashamed at my public display of what I am… an omega meant to be mated and bred, who cannot physically hold back her reaction, not in the presence of this prime male specimen, and yet the survivor in me says I need to fight. Fight! My shoulders shudder, and I straighten my spine.

  The General growls.

  It’s a long, drawn-out purr that seems to emerge from the very depths of his masculine body.

  The hair on my neck stands on end.

  Liquid need radiates out from my womb, bleeds through my skin, and flares up in the surrounding air.

  The General slams his fist to his chest, "Leave us." He roars. The aggression comes off him in waves, surrounding me, cocooning me as if he's trying to shield me from the sight of his own men. My knees threaten to give out from under me.

  Around me I hear murmurs, footsteps sound, then fade away.

  The doorway to the warehouse slams shut.

  "You scared?" His voice murmurs through the space.

  I shiver, I don't speak, I don’t need to speak. The scent of my fear is so strong I am sure he can smell it. "What do you think?" I intended to snarl at him, but the words come out a groan. I try to stagger away from him, trying to put space between me and that lethal, coiled, powerful male only for my feet to tangle in the carpet. I go sprawling on my back and stay there.

  "Get up." He snarls.

  I blink, then slap my palms onto the carpet for leverage and stagger back to standing. Thrusting my chin forward I meet his gaze. Those startling blue eyes burn into me. Concentric circles of aquamarine, teal and a wild blue, draw me in, and make me want to lose myself in them.

  "Kayden sent you to kill me."

  It's not a question, but a statement. And not one that demands a response.

  My chin quivers and I ball my fists at my side.

  His jaw firms. "I should kill you right here, Omega, for daring to burst into my stronghold and trying to assassinate me."

  "But you won't." Yeah, that would be too merciful of him. He's a monster and I don't expect any pity from him. But every alpha has an ego. And this predator has more ego than anyone else I have ever met. Perhaps I need to appeal to that.

  He tilts his head. "Feisty, aren't you?" His voice is soft, almost casual.

  My stomach churns. Whatever he has in mind for me, it's not good.

  "You bet," I set my jaw.

  His gaze narrows.

  My stomach twists and not just with arousal. My heart hammers and a bead of sweat trickles down my spine.

  "You are a big powerful alpha; me, I am just a helpless omega." I flutter my eyelashes and fuck, I am overdoing this, but what the hell, I keep going. "Why don't we make this more exciting for you?"

  He cants his head.

  What do you know? He bought it. A flicker of hope sparks in my chest.

  Then, his lips widen in a smile, and it's so predatory that I almost lose my will to resist, almost. I straighten my spine.

  "I agree."

  "Huh?" I blink. Why am I having this conversation with him? Just delaying the inevitable, that's all, but what the hell, I have to try, have to.

  His nostrils flare, "Run. You have until I count to ten to get a head start."

  "What do you mean?" I swallow.

  "You are losing precious seconds."

  No, it can’t be. This is not exactly what I had in mind when I had suggested to make things more exciting. Not.

  "Nine."

  The alpha is toying with me? He's going to hunt me? My palms begin to sweat. It can mean only one thing. He wants to increase the anticipation of whatever is to come. There is only one ultimate conclusion to this game, and it's not going to be in my favor. I close my fists so tightly that my nails slice into my skin. The scent of copper leaks into the air.

  "On the other hand, perhaps you'd
rather we conclude this farce right now?" His eyes gleam.

  The bastard no doubt thinks that I don't have a chance of outrunning him. It's that which makes me square my shoulders and thrust out my chest. I will not submit, not so easily.

  His gaze sweeps over my breasts, down to my core and he stares at the space between my legs. There's no mistaking the anticipation that laces his features.

  It makes me want to scratch that look of satisfaction off his face, to deny that my insides tremble in response. More moisture gathers between my legs. What is wrong with me? I am here to kill him. Not to mate him. Not. To. Mate. Him.

  I turn and race to the exit of the warehouse and throw myself against the doors.

  To find out what happens next get TAKEN BY THE ALPHA, Knotted Omega Series #1, here

  "One heck of a primal read, this alpha is a sex god." - USA Today Bestselling author, Lee Savino

  Hang on there’s more!

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  Read an excerpt from Dante and Gia’s story

  Gia

  “Incoming heat missile.” The bartender stares past me.

  I turn, and he clicks his tongue. “Don’t be that obvious.”

  Right. I bite the inside of my cheek, then straighten to peek in the mirror above him.

  A group of men talking, two women conversing at the far end. Everything seems normal. Exactly why I’d chosen this watering hole at the edge of Red Square in Moscow.

  Then, one of the women points to the entrance of the bar.

  I follow her gaze.