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She might not smell omega. She sure as fuck doesn’t act omega, but instinct doesn’t lie. Even if she’s not my omega, I can’t leave Lilah alone.
I wish she were a bitch. Like one of the gold-digging snobs at the Center who licks their lips and pants over dollar signs when Wyvern Pack rolls through. The salty, whiny, spoiled ones who believe they deserve the best of the best.
I honestly thought all omegas were like that, which is why I co-signed quick when Orion awakened. Wasn’t looking forward to a hormone-fueled harpy owning my ass. Or my soul.
But then Lilah.
I knew she was trouble when I saw her dance. Her silky, sensuous moves. The way she slid her hands over her smooth skin made me want to cover her fingers with mine.
Show her exactly where to touch and how hard.
Then in the gazebo. She didn’t submit easily. She’s fucking candy, making me imagine just how sweet it’ll be when she gladly bares her neck and gives herself to me.
Even when she needs help, she won’t ask.
I find Lilah in her swimsuit on the roadside with torn-up feet, and she wants nothing to do with me?
My alpha instincts weren’t having it, but I shouldn't have given in so hard. I may as well stick a tiara in that gorgeous hair and start calling her princess.
Lilah’s all huddled up in a protective ball, but her feet peek out. A splash of dried blood darkens her gauze, making that rumble kick up inside me again.
At first look, the girl is shit at taking care of herself.
Then my goddamned intuition chips in, because if hiding is her safe place, if suffering in silence has helped her get this far, I can imagine how badly she’s been treated.
Ah, fuck.
That’s not a truth I need rattling around my brain.
I already want to wrap her in a blanket and haul her into her nest.
No blanket. End this now.
I move to grab the crumpled protein bar wrapper. It crinkles, and she jolts like I was lunging for her throat. Her skull thunks the washer and she throws out fists.
“Whoa.” I lift my hands, hating that she wakes up so defensively. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Hunter,” she sighs breathily, her soft, sexy voice stroking my name like satin. She’s still tense, clutching her arms against her body, and uncomfortable this close to me.
I take the wrapper and use the excuse to step away, tossing it in the trash.
“Sorry.” She ducks her head. “I’ll leave.”
She squeezes from between the machines, wincing with stiffness.
Only I don’t mind Lilah in my space at all. I like seeing her here.
Lilah’s cute. A welcome break from the lifting equipment and metal. She’s all softness, even when she’s trying to hide. And better her than staring at my pack brothers’ ugly asses.
Except for Orion.
I struggle to picture them standing next to each other. They’d be all sunshine, rainbows, and snark. Two angels with smirks.
I brush off that never-gonna-happen image. “Isn’t there food in your room?”
“There’s baking soda.”
Fucking Craig. I stalk past her into the basement unit we half-assedly cleaned out when Scorpio announced he was sticking us with a second omega.
