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This shouldn’t be happening, right? They can’t make a formal offer until I’m at least in pre-awakening.
“That’s why you’re our top candidate.” Hikaru pins me with his attention like a butterfly mounted to his wall. “Because of our sons’ circumstances, we’d prefer that hormones not play a role in the mating. You may legally be a minor because of your status, but given your age, we’re confident you can make an informed decision. Whether or not you accept our offer, it’s past time for you to be graduating.”
I suck in a breath and choke.
Just like that, all my careful planning, all my sweat means nothing.
“I won’t mate a pack.” They can’t make me.
“No?” Hikaru tilts his head. “You’d prefer to go into rotation?”
“Not that,” I answer quickly. “I just want to be alone.”
“Alone? An omega?” Scorpio looks at me like a puzzle he can’t figure out. “You want such a painful life?”
If by pain, he means passing through heat without alphas to satisfy me… Well, I won’t ever start having heats. And if he means loneliness? That’s not a thing with me. “I’ve always been more comfortable solo.”
“You seem to be forgetting your position here.” Hikaru looks less concerned and more shrewd, with a dollar-sign glint in his dark eyes. “You can make whichever choice you like as long as it affords you the ability to pay back your training fees. Given the unusual length of time you’ve been with us, plus the cost of your original purchase… The amount is quite substantial.”
The man is all business, but somewhere in those words, I know he’s mocking me.
He’s for sure threatening me.
Some fucking guardian.
“With our offer, that won’t be a problem,” Scorpio says. “If you can get the boys to accept you into their pack, your fees will be waived, and we’ll set you up with a generous stipend.”
“If they accept me?” That’s not how offers work.
Alphas chase the omega.
Even when packs are so desired that multiple omegas are fighting for their attention, they understand that they’re lucky to be considered.
No pack is entitled to an omega.
The ratio of alphas to omegas is something like 20:1 and always rising in our favor. Omegas might be commodities, but we’re goddamned precious ones.
Or so I’ve been told.
Scorpio clears his throat. “That’s exactly why your terms are so favorable.”
Which tells me nothing. I keep my tone professional enough to protect my ass, but come-the-fuck-on. “Your sons could have any omega. They won’t want me.”
Craig—silent, but somehow annoying me anyway—gives a sycophantic nod, watching Scorpio like a sunflower follows the sun.
He wears his brown hair a little too long. Like he wants it soft and floppy. Like he wants to look omega, all vulnerable and take me.
Gag.
Freaking alpha chasers. Every other trainer at the OCC is just like Craig. Like Trainer Brock who got booted for sneaking into the dorms after hours and trying to give underage omegas foot massages.
Craig licks his lips like he’d die to suck one of Scorpio Wyvern’s combat-booted toes. I wish Scorpio would turn and give the guy the attention he’s panting for, but Scorpio’s too busy watching me with an alpha intensity that makes me want to fold myself into origami.
His forehead furrows. “The offer is generous.”
And fishy as fuck.
“You won’t receive another offer from a pack.” Hikaru slides the paper closer. He might as well admit he’ll block all other offers except the one that comes from his own son.
