Page 75 of The Boss Omega
“Just so you know,” she says, “if this turns out to be some kind of weird alpha flex thing, I reserve the right to complain loudly.”
I pull out of the driveway. “You won’t complain.”
“Oh? And why’s that?”
I glance over at her, letting the grin slip just enough that she knows I’m confident. “Because, little bird, I have you figured out.”
Her brows lift. Now she’s interested. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve been watching. You’ll have fun tonight.” I hold up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
Ten minutes later I pull into a parking lot glowing with neon lights and the distant thud of music. The sign above the door is impossible to miss.Alpha Axe.
Lark stares at it. Then she turns slowly toward me. “You brought me to an axe-throwing bar.”
My grin widens. “Thought you might like it.”
For a moment she just looks at the sign again. Then she laughs.
Alpha Axe Hallis exactly what you’d expect on a Friday night. Loud. Packed with alphas and a few over-eager beta women. Two lanes over, someone cheers when a blade lands with a solid thunk, and a second later another axe clatters against the floor.
Lark looks around with wide eyes. I’m guessing she’s never been anywhere like this before. I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. She’s holding a hard cider, not some sugary pink omega drink. The bottle is tipped slightly toward her lips as she watches a throw land a few lanes over.
A surge of pride hits me that makes absolutely zero sense. It’s hard cider, for god’s sake. But I’ve never seen another omega choose that, and something about it feels special.
“Alright,” I say, finishing my beer and setting the empty bottle on the high table beside our lane. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Her eyes light up immediately. “Fair warning,” she says. “I’m probably going to be amazing at this.”
I chuckle. “You’ve never thrown an axe before.”
“True.” She winks at me.
I’m fucking gone for this omega. It would be damned embarrassing if I wasn’t so all-in already. But I am.
All in.
It’s how it goes with scent-sensitivity. Even before you know a damned thing about your mate, you are drawn to them. Which is why this shit with Saint is so confusing.
He feels it. I know he does. I see it in how he watches her. How he panicked the night she spiked, desperate to ease her in some way. Fuck, even in the way he watched that video when I bought Lucy’s OmegaBox subscription. He wants her. Has wanted her even before he met her.
I grab one of the axes from the rack and hand it to her. She wraps her hand around the handle, testing the weight. Almost immediately a few heads turn. I’m not a regular, but I’ve been here enough to know that omegas are not the normal customer.
She steps into the lane and at least a dozen sets of eyes find her. My alpha is immediately and completely done with every single one of them.
I step closer. “Alright,” I say, keeping my voice low so only she hears me. “First rule.”
She glances over her shoulder. “What’s that?”
I move behind her and guide her forward until she’s standing on the throwingline. “Stance.”
My hands settle over hers, adjusting her grip on the handle. Her back presses lightly against my chest. Her scent wraps around me. Warm caramel with a dash of salt. The smell curling straight into my lungs and lighting every possessive instinct I have on fire.
Fuck.
My grip tightens slightly around her hands as I guide the axe upward. “Feet shoulder width apart,” I say, using my own foot to move her legs apart.
Her hips shift. And I swear to God she pushes back into me. Just a little.
