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Scoffing, I head for the kitchen.
Hunter’s forcefield works even harder on betas, so none of the catering staff says a word when I push past them to the walk-in freezer.
I find an industrial tub of almond cake ice cream wedged way in the back and haul it to an empty counter like a leopardess securing her kill.
Wielding a scooper like a trowel, I start to dish the spoils. Only, I’m too short to get leverage, and the ice cream’s so rock hard I can only scrape the top layer.
I'm so frustrated I almost betray myself with a whine, but Hunter tugs away the scoop. Finally using all those muscles for good instead of evil, he digs in, scooping, scooping, scooping, until my bowl overflows with sweet, almondy deliciousness that I can’t even pretend I’m going to reject.
I snatch the ice cream and start to shovel. “Thought you said you wouldn’t get in the way.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then why does every alpha think I belong to Wyvern Pack?”
His eyes glow.
Because I do belong to them.
I take my bowl and walk.
I know what they’re doing, using the threat against me as a reason to slide into my life.
But why?
When I’m not being swept away by the hormones and the unholy heat, I genuinely think the Wyverns are setting me up for another fall.
My mom pawned me.
My best friend disappeared.
My teachers proved every day that not all omegas are created equal.
And after Wyvern Pack said nah to my first heat, I’d have to be an idiot not to spot the trend.
So, I’ll enjoy the gifts and the temporary sweetness just because they like the way my pheromones tickle—I like theirs too—but in the end, I’m so much better off alone.
I douse my ice cream in caramel sauce and honeycomb, and treat Hunter to a chorus of mouth orgasms on our walk to the pole studio.
I’m going to eat every.
Fucking.
Bite.
Then I’ll hit the pole, spin until my brain falls out, and choreograph a routine so demonically sexy, every alpha in the building will be begging for a taste.
SIXTEEN
ATLAS
I’m used to being looked at for the big decisions. When it’s life or death, and the guys turn to me, it’s heavy, but it’s my responsibility.
Scorpio raised me to be that strong.
What I can’t handle?
My ancient tutor Celeste sucking her gums at me like she’s watching her great-great grandson try to fit the square block into the round hole.
