Caius nods like he’s responding to some sort of unspoken question. “I’ll cancel the welcome party.”
“Tell them she’s exhausted and needs a few nights before she meets the pack,” the blue-eyed Alpha says, his gaze still on me.
“Where will she stay until then?” Caius asks.
“In our den,” the one behind me says. “Where we can keep her safe.”
“And determine if she’s a Beta or…” the blue-eyed one trails off, but the others seem to understand the rest of his statement because they grunt.
Or what?I want to ask.An Omega?
That’s impossible.
My mother always called me an alpha female. All my tests suggested the same. It was what made me suitable for Canton.
But these men keep saying I’m not an Alpha.
And after feeling their strong auras, I very much understand why. Because compared to them? Yeah, I’m definitelynotan Alpha.
But an Omega?
I almost snort.
I’m definitely notthateither.
The blue-eyed male sits back on his heels for a moment, combing his fingers through his thick blond hair. “I’ll come with you, Caius,” he says. “Her scent is already in the air. They’ll have questions.”
The two of them stand at the same time.
Caius grins, but it’s not a friendly sort of smile, more of a challenging one as he looks at the male behind me. “I suggest you move quickly, V.”
“I always do, C,” the Alpha drawls, his chest vibrating my back and making my wolf sigh in response. She really likes his rumbling hum. It’s almost like a purr. “Do you want to run with me, sweetling?” he asks softly. “Or would you prefer I carry you?”
What is happening right now?I wonder, a bit dazed by this unexpected treatment.
All three males are staring at my wolf expectantly—which I anticipated when hearing I would be sent to Carnage Island, except it isn’t the kind of expectant glimmer I worried about seeing in their wild eyes.
Instead, they appear intelligent.
Not carnal.
Caring.
Not savage.
Patient.
Not demanding.
I swallow, uncertain of what I want to do. It’s up to my wolf, but she’s not moving. She just seems to want to curl into the Alpha behind me and bathe in that rumbling purr emanating from his chest.
“Carrying it is,” he says then, moving to stand.
My wolf perks up, irritated by the loss of his warmth.
But that rumbling sound from his chest lulls her into a placative state as she shuffles over to lean against his legs.
He’s wearing suit pants and nothing else.
