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Atlas enters first.
He’s power in motion, huger and hotter than ever with a collared shirt stretched over shoulders so broad he makes my greedy asshole twitch. He dominates the room, and all I want to do is wrap my legs around his waist, grinding and whining until he drags me to the pack bed and fucks me brainless on his knot.
“Orion.” He stalks to me, checking me up and down. Just feeling his eyes on my skin, knowing I have my alpha’s attention is enough to settle my crazed nerves. Sexy stubble covers his defined jaw, and his broad nostrils flare when he spots me.
When his broad palm settles over my shoulder, I feel like myself for the first time in days. Atlas kisses my forehead, wrapping me in his musky leather scent.
More.
I need more.
“Do you have a minute?” he asks like I’m his business partner instead of his blood-bound mate. “We have something to talk to you about.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, thin and panicky.
Does he notice the hysteria?
“Good.” Atlas pats my head and walks away.
The comfort of his touch evaporates, leaving me alone in the whirlwind of doubt.
I feel fifteen again.
The drunken sleepover where Finn dared us to make out. I knew I liked Atlas, but I didn’t realize I was fucking gone for him until I felt his lips on mine. The way he gripped the back of my head with firm fingers, hauling me against his body in a claiming so feral and possessive that he owned me from then on. Even though my blood tests said I’d be an alpha, I knew we’d be together.
Except, the next day?
Atlas said it was a mistake.
We couldn’t screw around if we wanted to form a pack with the guys and mate an omega.
It’s been years since my surprise awakening, and I still feel like the second choice. The omega the guys accepted because we grew up together.
Not because they want me.
“Hey,” Hunter says in a half-bark that dredges my attention out of the darkness. He smells like liquor and smoke, a heady shot of mezcal. I let myself breathe him in for a few seconds, trying to calm down.
Hunter’s nearly as massive as Atlas, all toned muscle and bronzed skin with a teddy bear’s soul. With dark hair long on the top and shaved clean on the sides, he’s half fitness model, half tatted-up gangster, and deeply intense whether he’s your enemy or your best friend.
He hits me with one of his soul-deep, I can-see-through-your-bullshit gazes. “You good?”
I don’t bother answering. Hunter always sees too much. “How was the mission?”
“Fucking sick!” Finn pushes past him and scoops me up in greeting. “Shit went off at the drop site. Total bedlam. Ten out of ten would fuck with the cartel again.” Finn keeps describing the guns he used and the guys he killed like an excited puppy instead of a special forces sniper. Seeing him happy, feeling his bright, electric energy, settles me down.
I can’t let it bother me that his touch is only friendly.
We were bros for years before I turned omega with no warning, so other than Atlas, the guys only fuck me during my heat. Which is good—so fucking good—but always leaves me wanting more.
At least Finn and Hunter ask my permission to bang strange chicks.
They deserve to be satisfied.
As long as I don’t have to see the guys screwing outside the pack, smell betas all over their skin, then I can keep my psycho shit mummy-wrapped and buried.
“Put him down.” Jett steals me from Finn’s arms. The lithe, long-haired alpha eases me to the ground, but quickly releases his touch.
Jett’s eyes are dark, sparkling galaxies. Sometimes, I feel a spark between us, but his smile only goes so far.
