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“He ain’t as good as you.”
“Not many are,” I smiled.
Beatrice’s scent spiked. Not sweet, not sour or bitter, just intense, as if someone had poured an entire bottle of rose water over my head.
“I’m showing Lord Paxton how to shoot. And Hero. I’m to teach her as well.”
“You’ll not have much success with Benedict. He’s a terrible student.”
“I’ll believe it,” she chuckled.
“Omega, you should be off that foot,” I said conversationally, but with enough alpha slipping through that I could see her respond to it.
“Alpha, your advice is appreciated, but I am sure I know the limits of my own body.”
She’d said alpha. I wanted to grab her around the waist, throw her over my shoulder, and find the nearest place possible to knot her. It took all my power to stay next to Pax, to only growl and breathe in her scent like I would never smell her again.
I saw Hero eyeing us with something akin to fascination. I’d not blame her if she came to the correct conclusion. Calling another by their dynamic was the height of intimacy, generally reserved for couples, packs, and those courting. It was proof of our long acquaintance… Yet…Yet… I had not seen her in ten years. Ten years, and it was as if that time had not existed.
“Omega…” The growl of pure possession rippled through me.
“I am not your omega.” Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Do you desire to participate in target practice? Or would you prefer to growl at me?”
“I am at my leisure.”
“Then stand in as my target. I’ve a desire for something more challenging.”
“No.” Pax barked. Hero whimpered at the sound. Beatrice whirled and fixed him with a deathly glare.
“Your opinion has no value.”
“And you are without value,” he snapped and immediately realised his mistake. “I mean. Priceless. You… Dammit!”
She made us foolish; schoolboy alphas tongue tied around a pretty omega.
“Pax, I’m more than glad to assist the lady. My heart is hers to aim at.”
“Don’t be a fool,” Pax flung an arm in front of me. “Beatrice, don’t be reckless.”
“Our meeting was such that I expect you are aware of my ability to hit my target.”
“You meant to shoot me?”
She stiffened. Perhaps there was something more there. “Pax, trust her to know her own business.”
I moved to the far end of the gallery. “I stay at your pleasure.”
“My lord, please provide the Colonel with some armour.”
“This is damn foolish, and Orley will have your hide for putting holes in his armour.” But he was quick to find me a breastplate.
“Not worth it. A bullet at this range is likely to go right through an antique like this.” I watched her face, the way her eyes went wide. “May I present another target?”
She nodded.
A pack of cards would have been ideal, but I doubted one could be found. The candles, however—those would work. I removed one from its holder, put it between my teeth, and stood in profile to her.
“Soldier! Beatrice, don’t.” Pax snapped out the order like the best drill sergeant.
