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When I get too frustrated, hating that I’m not in control, I remember why I’m trying.
Lilah.
Orion.
Lilah and Orion.
The pack. Back together in a better, stronger form, all according to Hunter’s—not my—master plan.
Chanting their names keeps me from falling over the edge and saying fuck this to the emergency course that has me locked in a hotel conference room instead of hunting and scalping Redfangs.
Instead of taking charge.
Lost that privilege.
“Soothe your omega,” Celeste croons, ignoring my slow internal meltdown. “Stroke its back and say something sweet.”
My “omega” is a demented life-sized sock doll spritzed with synthetic pheromones.
So not only do I have this creepy fucking scarecrow hugged to my chest in a room full of alphas wearing my same how-did-we-get-here stare, but my dick’s also raging hard and ready to breed a dummy full of mutant polyester spawn.
“Remember. Omegas thrive on praise and reassurance. Offer a compliment.”
I flinch at the doll’s drawn-on face.
The only compliment that comes to mind is thank you for not coming to life and chasing me through a corn field.
“Picture your omega.” Celeste pats my arm. “You don’t have to say anything deeply emotional. Just a soft, gentle praise, and bonus points if you can bring out your purr.”
I bite back a frustrated growl.
This is a fucking nightmare, but it’s one I deserve.
This is the best alpha/omega crash course anywhere, and Celeste Beaurivage is so in demand, she’s tutored every world leader for the last five decades.
I need to learn, and I am—I’m memorizing the textbooks, doing the extra homework, and studying full-time, even though every second is a struggle not to rage out and rush back to tracking Dominik.
Rush to see Lilah.
It’s not that I don’t trust Hunter and his plan.
I’d give Hunter a kidney. An eye. Even part of my heart if he asked.
But giving him control?
Being here instead of taking the lead?
I’m spiraling.
Because how can I be so goddamned dense?
I have to take a class for something that should be easy as breathing, and I lost my pack because I don’t even know how to interact with an omega without sending them straight into rage-quit.
So I have to trust Hunter. He and Wyvern House can run an investigation without my micromanagement.
Even if every instinct screams I should be able to hold up the sky, I can’t do it all.
My vision for the future keeps me from ripping the doll in half. I stroke its back, but my voice comes out more gravelly than soothing. “Good omega.”
