Savage Prince by Alison Aimes

3

Crash.

Maxheim turned the corner and dodged a flying body.

What in the hells was going on? These auctions were always rowdy, but this was extreme.

His guards were searching another set of halls while he and his brothers combed this section of back rooms, but the closer he got to the end of the corridor, the more he scented something extraordinary on the air.

A sultry, floral scent tinged with darkness and sin lured him on like a siren’s call.

Except he didn’t do feverish and out of control, and he definitely didn’t do random omegas during an essential mission to protect his family.

“Anyone else feel that?” Alexi’s nostrils flared as he prowled forward. “There’s a strange kind of heaviness to the air.”

“Who gives a shit?” snapped Damien. “I just want to rip something apart.”

All Maxheim wanted to do was rut. For hours.

What in the ever-loving fuck?

“I cannot wait to gut Byrel.” Damien’s fangs flashed.

Alexi nodded in agreement.

“After we find out what he knows about the twins,” cautioned Maxheim. “As well as the name of his employer and who’s behind these auction hits.”

“Yeah, yeah. After.”

But Maxheim wasn’t convinced. His brothers did not seem to grasp the dangers of letting your emotions rule. “Much as I’d like to indulge in our own revenge, we can’t settle this on our own anymore. Nikolai had to tell the Brotherhood Council what we found—and now they’re involved.”

Damien scowled. “They should mind their own business.”

“Maybe so, but they won’t. They want collaboration. They want an example made of whoever’s striking out at the Brotherhood. What’s more, they want the retaliation bloody and big enough that no one tries it again—and they expect us to deliver, or else.”

The Skolov relationship with the Brotherhood had always been rocky. Many of the older members hadn’t wanted to let them join the collective.

They saw his family as ungovernable—which was true. They also accused him and his kin of being cocky upstarts—also true. And the older members whispered behind their backs that the Skolovs could not be controlled—again, true.

But the majority of Brotherhood bosses were also smart enough to know it was better to have the Skolovs as allies rather than enemies.

Since Maxheim had the same thought about the syndicate, he was happy to appease the Brotherhood. For now.

“No diverting from the script. We stick to the plan. You got me?” He wanted to make sure his brothers understood.

“Yes.” Damien cracked his knuckles, corded neck muscles bulging. “We give them the employer and the auction assassin, and we keep Byrel for ourselves.”

“Anything for the twins.” The bright blue eyes that had always made Alexi such a favorite with the omegas glittered with determination.

“Good.” Maxheim was pleased. Despite the tension, it was good to be working together.

They turned the corner.

A mob of fists, claws, and horns barreled their way.

Alphas, who looked as if they’d just recently been striding down the corridor, launched themselves at one another. Abandoned omegas, still in their cages, shrieked and rattled their bars.

It was as if everyone in the place had lost their mind at the same instant, like a switch flipped.

The crowd in the corridor swelled.

Bodies slammed into him.

Maxheim managed to stay upright, pinning his hand to his face so his mask didn’t dislodge.

Damien and Alexi weren’t so lucky.

Alexi went down. Damien’s mask flew off.

Instantly, the kid started swinging, only to be swept along in the sea of fighting bodies.

Fortunately, Alexi was still in arm’s reach.

Maxheim grabbed the nape of his brother’s neck and pulled him upright, just before the idiot launched himself at another Alpha.

“Get your mask back on.” Maxheim shook his brother. Alexi’s gaze was clouded and black. Far different from the usual red-eyed madness that signaled rut.

Alexi slammed his mask into place as another body flew by them. “What the hells is happening?” Instantly, his eyes looked clearer.

“No clue, but Damien is somewhere in this mess. We need to find him and our soldiers and get out.”

“What about the plan?” Alexi had to shout to be heard over the cacophony of snarls, breaking bones, and striking flesh.

“The plan has gone to shit.” He thought fast. “Find Damien. Get him and the rest of our soldiers out of here. Meet outside the front entrance. We’ll reassess there. And don’t take that mask off, whatever you do.”

He didn’t wait around for Alexi’s assent.

The male might be reckless as hells with his own life, but he didn’t mess around when it came to family. He’d get the job done.

While Maxheim did his: find the targets.

Dodging a writhing mass of enraged bodies, he battered his way through the crowd. Someone tore at his cloak. Another struck out with a fist.

He sent them both hurtling to the ground.

A flash of silver caught his gaze.

He shoved aside bodies faster, gaze locked on the shimmering skin weaving its way between the snarling, fighting masses.

The figure turned.

Their gazes locked. Byrel!

He recognized the silver-skinned bastard from a recent hologram.

Whirling, the male shouted something to some nearby guards and then skirted his way through the crowd, his movements deliberate.

The fucker was on the run.

Maxheim leapt forward. “You’re not going anywhere, Rav Byrel. You—” He cut off.

The swirling air crept beneath a small crack in the seal of Maxheim’s mask and carried a familiar mouthwatering scent his way, only this time it was stronger and closer.

His head snapped up. His nostrils flared. The ice in his veins turned molten hot.

Her.

Alive—and so close he could taste her on his tongue. Wild. Sensual. His.

Except . . . something was wrong.

Rage and pain surged through her and slammed into him.

Her fear squeezed his lungs and sent his head jerking back. The beast inside him howled and broke free from its tether. A haze of red clouded his vision.

The instinct to claim and protect was immediate and essential.

Shifting course, he plowed toward the back door, following the scent.

A small voice in his head shrieked that there was another plan he was supposed to follow. A mission he was meant to carry out.

Those thoughts barely registered above the roar of lust.

Six heavily armed guards threw themselves into his path. Horns snapping straight, he tore through them.

Plans changed.

Only one objective was now primary.

His omega needed him.

* * *

Something was very wrong.

Thankful for the locked cage, Tess surveyed the madness.

Most of the guards in the backroom were already dead. Same with several of the other attendees.

Spine pressed to the wall, Nils’s accusatory stare locked on her. “This is your doing, bitch. Control yourself.”

How could she? She didn’t even understand what had gone wrong.

Though maybe it was deserved. Most died as they lived, and her main contribution to this world had been violence and pain. She’d never expected anything different for her end.

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’m going to enjoy doling out your punishment.” Mask gone, muddy rage darkened Nils’s gaze as he stalked toward her. “As slowly and painfully as I can.”

“Don’t even think about it.” A new gravely rasp rumbled from the doorway. “No one touches that omega but me.”

Tess jerked in her bonds.

Her body vibrated as if she was a magnet, and every cell inside her spun and pointed toward the new arrival.

All thoughts vanished, saved for one.

Him.

Standing in the doorway was the most beautiful male she’d ever seen. The most terrifying too.

Her wrists and throat throbbed.

Lust coursed through her. Power too. Along with a will so formidable, it stole her breath and took her over, allowing the darkness inside her no quarter, chased away to make room for him.

The few still-living Alphas in the room snarled, their horns snapping straight as they surged to their feet.

“No one leaves this room.” The beautiful Alpha slammed his palm against the control panel and the door slid shut.

Nils drew his weapon.

She barely noticed.

Fierce golden eyes streaked red pinned her in place. Crystal glittering ice chips. Even colored with the rutting heat, they were the coldest eyes she’d seen.

All she wanted was to make them burn red hot for her.

Everything about the male screamed power and control. It blanketed her skin, filled her lungs, infused her with a steady calm she’d never experienced before.

Even with blood dripping from a cut at his cheek and rips in his clothes, he was totally self-contained, his regal eyebrows sloping downward into a scowl while thick, ridged horns the color of onyx curled behind his ears in perfect symmetry.

His hair was a dark brown wave that fell back from his face in obedient lines. His cheekbones were chiseled, his square jaw covered in a neat, trim beard.

Her palms itched to run her fingertips against the curve of his jaw, to rumple his hair, to puncture his perfect will and composure.

She wished she could see his nose and lips, but they were covered by the mask.

The rest of him, though, was impossible to miss.

His chest and shoulders were wide and fearsome and, while the sculpted flawlessness of his face might have been a lucky accident of birth, one did not achieve that kind of physical bodily perfection without ruthless discipline, intense physical demand, and savage focus.

He was dressed in the current syndicate fashion of thick boots, black leather trousers, and an open, black animal-hide vest that crisscrossed his chest and revealed mouthwatering slab after slab of carved, red-skinned muscle beneath. Hard sinew that tapered to a sexy V before disappearing below the low-riding, laced waistband of his trousers.

If that was not formidable enough, his body was covered in intricate skin designs that highlighted his Alpha high status—and his identity.

She sucked in a sharp breath and, for an instant, her mind cleared enough to grasp one essential truth.

She was in grave trouble.

Because this male was not just some new arrival, he was Maxheim Skolov: second-in-command of one of the most powerful crime families in the galaxy. The exacting mastermind behind the empire. Ruthless. Uncompromising. Disciplined. Savage. Ice cold.

And he was here to kill her for what she’d done to his fellow Brotherhood members.

The darkness inside her returned with a vengeance, sending more aggression into the air.

“I don’t care who you are.” Snarling, her guard Nils finally recovered from his shock and remembered his duties. “You can’t just come in here and claim her.”

“I just did.” Skolov didn’t even spare the other male a glance. His gaze remained locked on her.

Something inside her chest fluttered.

Nils hesitated—she’d never seen him do that before—but then, tusks gnashing, baton in hand, he lurched forward. “The boss has rules. Even a Brotherhood member doesn’t get to decide—”

Skolov’s hand shot out.

Nils’s voice cut off. His eyes flared as his body twitched.

The syndicate male’s arm retracted, something soft and dark and wet in his clawed fist.

Nils gurgled. His knees folded. His head slammed to the ground, and he lay still. Crimson liquid spread in a puddle around his chest.

Dead.

Nils was dead.

In one savage strike, the male who had terrorized her for so long was gone. Felled by an even more dangerous predator.

The urge to drop to her hands and knees and present throbbed deep in her cells and her clit. This new arrival was unlike the others. He was a true top Alpha. A male who commanded. Dominated. Who took control. Who ruled with an iron fist and a cool, hard palm.

A male who’d become her savior in the brutal flash of a murderous act.

Her nipples tightened.

No, no, no.She needed to fight her omega instinct and remember . . . he wasn’t her rescuer. He was here for her destruction.

She needed to focus on escape.

“Anyone else have anything to say?” Skolov dropped Nils’s heart onto the dirty floor, wiping his hand on his black trousers as he advanced.

Snarling, the last three living Alphas in the room took a collective step back.

She wished she could too. Instead, slick pearled on the insides of her thighs.

Forced to find her way on her own, her desires as insubstantial as a piece of space dust, she had always wondered what it would be like to be in the presence of someone like Maxheim Skolov.

Now she knew. Being close to such power was exhilarating. And petrifying.

Because if she wanted to survive the next few moments, her best bet was to let Skolov touch her and hope her gift worked as it should.

Truthfully, she’d never wanted anything so bad as the Brotherhood Alpha’s hand against her skin. But not for the reasons she should.

More of the black, chaotic tendrils of her gift vibrated through the air.

The consequences were instantaneous.

Fangs gnashing, two of the other living Alphas hurled themselves into Skolov’s path. “You can’t have her. We were here first.”

“I’m here now.” As if they were nothing more than irritating insects, he slashed their throats in a single swipe and shoved their bodies into a nearby wall.

He stalked her way.