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I sip water, eye the ice cream bar, and keep waiting.
No one comes.
The room’s filled with small talk and laughter as alphas mingle. Spoons clink, and a lucky few alphas hand-feed their chosen omega. Tables are crowded, and packs hover at the edges of the room, waiting for space to open.
My table’s the only one without a line.
It doesn’t make sense.
I have zero expectations that a pack of princes will take my empty chairs, but Darling plus Honeymoon Hills should at least score some sleazy curiosity.
The same alphas who’ve always approached me at these things. Stubble, shifty eyes, and smirks that send me running to hide in the bathroom.
When a dreadlocked pack leader walks toward me with his boys, I straighten, thinking I’m finally getting customers. But instead a dish of ice cream, they offer me respectful nods before striding past.
The pack leader shakes hands with Hunter.
I deflate.
Okay. Maybe they’re friends.
When he leaves, a three-pack of blond surfer alphas approaches, and one smells so much like watermelon, I could totally get behind it.
They go straight to Hunter.
When the surfers peace out, I glance at my shadow. To his credit, Hunter’s not doing anything obvious to warn off interest.
Just standing, casing the room for threats.
But all Hunter Wyvern has to do is stand.
Between his size, his dominance, his position behind my shoulder, and the fact that no other omega has a personal guard who’s a well-known gillionaire heir…
Every alpha here must think Wyvern Pack already has a claim.
Which is bullshit.
Why would I go through socials and risk the embarrassment if I already had Wyvern Pack locked down?
I wouldn’t.
I’d be snuggled in my nest with all five of them wrapped around me and—holy shit did that take a quick turn.
I shake myself.
I wait a few more minutes, but there’s a Wyvern-shaped forcefield blocking my table.
Nobody has the balls to bust through.
Fine.
I met a decent pack, scored a date, and didn’t have to flee in my new sneakers.
I’m calling it a win.
And I’m getting my own freaking ice cream made just the way I want it.
Alphas ooze out of my way when I step to the ice cream buffet. I do a lap, but my flavor isn’t on the bar.
