Page 130 of Traded

He smirks over at the silent omega beside him. “Erin was the same. Needed a good dose of discipline to get her in line, but we got there in the end.”

His chuckle rakes over every instinct I have, and every one of them isscreaming. My hands curl around the back of Lauren’s chair. “I work at the rink too.”

“For now.” He turns to Jonas. “Now, then. That Laker’s game a few weeks back. Talk me through that second period, son. Somethin’ going on with Reynolds? He was all over the place.”

Jonas shifts awkwardly in his place, eyeing me. I don’t move. “Notfor now. I have no plans to leave my job.”

“Neither do I.” Lauren smiles, but there’s nothing friendly in it. “Every pack works differently, I suppose.”

And some packs work…verydifferently. She pushes her seat back. “I’ll help you.”

Lauren grabs the tray of asparagus with jerking movements that send some of them sliding off the end, her hiss low enough to avoid them overhearing. “What a fuckingasshole.”

We share a look of complete agreement.

“Sooner we eat, sooner he can go.” I grab the potatoes and nod my head. “Gird your loins.”

It only gets worse when I slide into my seat. “Everyone help yourselves. Hope you enjoy.”

“This looks great, Rosie.” Liam beams at me down the table. “She’s put a lot of effort into tonight.”

“Everything looks delicious.” Julia leans forward. “Practically professional.”

I mentally thank the catering company who delivered in discreet boxes for me to warm up. “Oh, yeah. I spent all day cooking, like a good omega should.”

A foot connects with my leg beneath the table. Jonas frowns when I look over to him. “Have you got a cramp, baby?”

There’s still no sign of Carter.

John sits back, clicking his fingers, and Erin uncurls herself from her seat. We watch in horrified silence as she loads his plate and then Julia’s before she settles back in her seat.

John cuts off some of his lamb and slides it onto her plate. A few asparagus spears. Two potatoes. He tops it off with a dribble of jus from the boat that’s justoffensive.

Two fucking potatoes.

We’re omegas. Our diet is ninety per cent comfort carbs. I can feel Liam’s stare boring into the side of my face.

“Here.” I almost launch myself over the table, yanking her plate away. “Let me help you with that. No need for politeness withfamily.”

“That’s enough for Erin,” John says sharply. “Too much rich food isn’t good for her.”

“I don’t think an extra potato will break her.” I add a few more spoonfuls. Erin doesn’t look up as I slide her plate back in front of her. “Here you go.”

“I see it now,” John says after a few minutes of awkward, silent eating. The lamb settles uncomfortably in my stomach, and I end up pushing it around my plate. He points his fork in my direction. “Liam said you were a firecracker.”

“I consider that a compliment.” I don’t look at Liam, focusing on thinly slicing a potato. “Although I doubt you meant it as one.”

“Hell of a mouth.” John laughs—a loud, booming guffaw, and I look up. He’s smiling, but there’s a glint in his eyes that I recognize. Studying it, I try to work out where I’ve seen it before. “Where I come from, we fix that with soap.”

My hand tightens around my fork.

“Uh…” Jonas looks confused. “Soap, sir?”

“That’s enough,” Liam says quietly. “Mom, tell me about the club.”

But John Kessler leans forward, that gleam darkening. “Bit of soap in that mouth would soon clean it out. That’s how they learn, son. Spare the rod, spoil the omega. Gotta go hard, or they’ll push every button you have until your authority’s in ruins.”

He sits back, satisfied with my silence. “Not in my house.”