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“You can come through the house.” Orion runs a hand through soft, messy hair. “It’s cold out.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Lilah. It’s fine. I can already smell them on you.”
That is not fine.
My fingers drift to my waist, not that I want to stab Orion, but if he jumps me…
“Scorpio asked me to go to this ball, otherwise—”
“I know,” he says with a hint of a growl that should send me running.
Omegas are always growling at me in challenge or hatred or fury.
But Orion’s growl is magnetic. Like syrup-soaked apples and honey, melting me like chocolate in front of a cozy fire.
Color brightens his pale cheeks. He’s beautiful, standing barefoot in sweatpants and a T-shirt that clings to his tight, lean body.
While I stare at him, he stares back at me, both of us wary, not sure who should make the first move.
I finally crack. “Honestly, I don’t know what to do. I’m trying not to step on your toes.”
The corner of his mouth quirks in the teeniest smirk. “You ever feel like you’re a slave to the hormones?”
“Always,” I say with a little too much passion.
He laughs, just a puff of air, flashing a breathtaking smile that lightens the day’s heaviness and lifts an invisible barbell off my shoulders.
“Come through the house.” Orion steps to the side, making space for me.
“Thanks.” When I slink past, I can’t resist the urge to breathe him in. Cider apple sticks to me, and the scent keeps teasing me when I’m alone downstairs, locked in the nest with heat pulsing between my legs at the thought of a pair of brilliant blue eyes.
I can’t be attracted to him.
I won’t let myself.
He’s not even alpha, goddamnit.
I sneak into the empty gym and prepare to make Hunter’s treadmill my bitch. Cranking the speed, I hit the belt, planning to pound miles until I collapse. At this point, I’m so dizzy with the pack’s scents that it doesn’t matter if the gym’s soaked with their sweat.
My body has too many ideas that will get me in trouble. Like would it be so bad to lick the flavor from Orion’s lips? Just once?
Not that I know anything about kissing. I bet Atlas could give me some killer tongue tips. Maybe join us…
I growl and duck my head, sprinting so hard my footsteps pound over the screaming belt of the treadmill.
I can’t decide if I need a lobotomy or an alpha-girth vibrator.
I stay out of everyone’s way for the next few days, quietly working, exercising my pheromones to death, and avoiding all things alpha. I’m starting to hope that they’ve forgotten about me and this fundraising ball isn’t going to happen.
I’m napping, totally passed out after a few hours in the lake, when I hear footsteps.
I snap awake, already holding the shiv under my pillow. The big heavy bank door is shut, but the fucking thing never locks, so I can never sleep deeper than a doze.
The footsteps stop.
Moving silently, I push the door open just wide enough to peek.
