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I creep into the parking lot, super careful not to drive near the people streaming in for grudge night. When I coast into a spot in the back corner, I let out a breath, relaxing into Hunter.
“Was that so scary?” he murmurs, voice way too close to my ear.
Wait.
He’s really close.
Like, I’m fucking glued between his thighs.
When did this happen?
I jerk forward, and the seatbelt snags my waist so hard I yelp.
Orion and Hunter hiss.
“Easy.” Hunter unclicks us, and I scramble out of the Jeep.
Orion rushes around, hooking an arm over my shoulders. “You sure you’re okay? You don’t have to meet Sorensens.”
I dig my nails into my palms.
Orion looks all sexy blond soldier boy in his Wyvern camo and his obscene bandage that screams what we did.
We made some kind of mini pack.
I’ve read every omega textbook and couldn’t tell you how or what the fuck that is, but I wouldn’t take it back.
The weird, warm energy of him runs through my veins like sunshine and hard cider, and for the first time in my life, I’m not alone.
I don’t ever have to be alone again.
I should’ve said screw the stupid date. Orion and I need to talk and snuggle this out.
Hunter and I need to—
I don’t know. Probably move farther apart before he gets me pregnant through two layers of clothes and an implant?
But I don’t want to burn my Sorensen bridge, and I’m way too excited to watch the Wyverns fight. “I’ll be good.”
“I’ll walk you in.” Hunter waves us in front of him. His gaze is a laser on my back, but I’m glad to have him behind me when we step through the doors.
I wore leggings and Orion’s hoodie. Also showered, but I’m edging so close to my heat apocalypse, I’m a walking pheromone bomb.
The building’s airplane-hangar huge, with an octagon cage in the center of the stadium seating, but whether it’s my sex-starved aura, my sugared perfume, or the omega leading me around like my personal golden pit bull, ready to shank anyone who steps too close, I steal every alpha’s attention like the fucking queen.
Conversations cut, heads turn, and alphas watch.
But let them see.
I don’t drop my shoulders, don’t cower or give in to the waves of dominance that want me on my knees.
With Orion here, all I have to do is focus on the sunlight, and my spine stays straight. And with Hunter looming at my back, no one dares to stare for long.
“Your dates.” Orion nudges me.
I’m surprised I didn’t notice the Sorensens first. Dressed for a country club in nice slacks and collared shirts, they’re easy to pick out from the sea of mercenaries in black tees.
Spotting me, they beeline through the crowd.
