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I nod. I know that already. The lawyers were crystal clear.
“Good luck,” Derek says, though the apathy in his voice implies that he couldn’t care less if it went well or not. He lets the door slam behind him on his way out, rattling the windows.
Chapter Two
~Arlo~
She’s nothing like what I expected. I’ve watchedOmega Girls After Darkbefore. The girls here are usually trashy or jaded to the point that they can’t be on primetime. Sometimes they have some major physical issue like that girl next door—scars all over her face and rejected by her pack.
For the most part, the nighttime escapades of the failure flats work well on the night-vision cameras, providing late-night viewers with spank bank material, and little else.
It makes no sense to me that the producers put Haven here. Her strawberry-blonde hair falls in ringlets down to her large breasts. Luscious curves tempt my fingers to explore. But more than anything, there’s her scent. Fuck, that scent is like nothing I’ve ever smelled. Staying on this side of the room is almost impossible. My body is begging me to bury myself inside her. Tart lemons mixed with a sweetness that begs to be tasted.
I watch out of the corner of my eye as she moves closer, taking hold of her suitcase. She looks up at me through sooty lashes, her cherry-colored lips pursed nervously. “Um, is there… did you pick a room yet?” she asks tentatively.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice hoarse. I gesture toward a door off the living room, and she nods. “The others are over that way,” I point.
“The others… plural?”
I nod. “At least three spaces for alphas, and one for you. You can ask packs to stay with you for a few days so you can… get to know them.” I’m surprised to find that the idea of anyone coming in here and fucking her in front of me makes my jaw clench.
“Right, of course,” she murmurs. “Test driving.”
“Would you like that?” I ask, trying to keep my voice under control. Until now, the drugs in my system have done a good job suppressing my urges, but now they’re working overtime, fighting against instinct. Strong fucking instinct.
Omegas—even secret ones like me—are designed for sex. Not just taking, but giving. So even though I’m no alpha, the instinct to take hold of Haven, to please her, is almost too strong for me to bear.
Haven swallows hard. “I don’t know,” she says. “I’ve never… I mean… it’s hard to imagine.”
“How have you been controlling your heat if you haven’t had a pack?” I ask, tilting my head to assess her. “Drugs?”
Her eyes widen. “They make drugs to stop your heat?”
“Sure, if you can get them. They’re not exactly legal. And they don’t stop a heat, but they can delay it for a while, keep you afloat and stable ‘til you’re ready for your pack. They made spikes easier, too. But if you didn’t know that, I guess that answers my question. No drugs then?”
She shakes her head, her locks teasing the smooth skin on her cheeks, tempting me to grab hold. My fingers itch to touch her, to taste her. I clear my throat, taking a step back. Seems like the drugs aren’t working so well for me right now.
“You’re, what, twenty-six, twenty-seven?” I ask.
“Twenty-nine,” she says in that husky voice.
“Most omegas would have a pack by now and bite marks to prove it. Why don’t you?”
“I was taking care of my parents. I had a… a boyfriend to help with that stuff.”
Her eyes dart away as if she’s lying, which interests me. What could she possibly have to be ashamed of? Getting through a heat alone is a virtual impossibility, except with drugs. People have died trying. Who would judge her for doing whatever she needed to do to get through it? Even if she went to a spike house, she would have been justified… but I get the feeling she won’t want to hear that from me.
I decide to let it go for now. “I have to get you mic’ed up for the night. I laid out a couple of options for you in here.”
She follows me across the living room, her lemon scent wafting around me, making my mouth water. I have a set of necklace options ready on the coffee table. I sit down on a small sofa, and gesture for her to sit beside me. Her proximity is making my blood boil and my cock ache. I swallow hard as I open three boxes.
“These are mics?” Haven asks, gazing down at the slim pieces of jewelry in their cases.
“Yup, the show wants them to look as little like microphones as possible, which I guess makes sense. Reality tv is all about the reality, right?” I grin at her, and she smiles back, shyly. I want to watch her blush as I whisper filthy things in her ear. The urge screams through me, but I try to concentrate on the task at hand. “You have to wear a mic every night that you’re on-air. You can pick which one you like.” I study her as her gaze moves from one choice to another.
The first piece is a pearl necklace, gleaming with innocent promise. It would loop twice around her neck, in a Roaring Twenties style. Plus the longer loop would fall deep into the valley between her breasts. It doesn’t seem like her style.
The second piece is a gold necklace with a leaf-shaped pendant, studded with diamonds. The chain is delicate, and the pendant shiny and beautiful. When I selected it, I thought this one was the most likely to appeal to the omega who was coming to live here. Simple and feminine, with a bit of bling to it. Now, though, I’m not so sure.
