Page 118 of Wild Omega

“Sit,” I order, rising from the comfy office chair.

Rickon balks, looking along the table at all the main actors—famous and influential people. I pressure his shoulder down, and then plop into his lap sideways, draping myself across his body with my boots hanging over the armrest before pulling the script up to balance on my knees.

“Much better,” I say.

A chuckle vibrates through his chest and he wraps his arms around my waist, dropping his nose into my neck to inhale deeply. His fingers squeeze me over and over, like a cat kneading. I’ll gladly be his fidget toy, if it means he’s happy.

I glance up through my lashes and meet Mr Yun’s quizzical gaze. I drop one eyelid in a sultry wink. “We’re new packmates. Surely you remember how it is?” Now every single handsome fucker at this table knows Rickon’s mine. He might be the one with the cat hands, but I’m the one purring.

The director shakes his head twice before rapping his knuckles on the table. “Everyone’s here, so take your seats and let’s get started.”

I warm up my throat with a few quiet hums.

Ashana doesn’t have any alphas—yet. She doesn’t even know she’s an omega. Maybe for today I’ll interpret the warmth under my thighs and back as leaning against my favorite horse. I draw in on myself, sinking into the role I’ve studied all weekend. This is what I do best.

Chapter forty-nine

Rickon

Callisto comes home just as we’re sitting down for dinner, so I jump up and serve out an extra bowl.

“Hello,” he says, dropping his black laptop bag on the side table and unwrapping a scarf from around his neck.

I whistle softly. “Well, look who the cat dragged in before midnight.”

He coughs a laugh and looks across at Red. She lifts one hand in greeting.

“Damn you!” Ozzie screeches from her shoulder, bobbing his head enthusiastically.

“Blessed by the parrot. Now my day is complete,” Callisto remarks dryly, walking over to scratch the green bird’s head. I think it might be a ploy to stand close to Red, because his eyes fix hungrily on her. Trust my best friend to screw up something as important as a pack.

But I’m done mourning what could’ve been.

Red’s finished a week of table reads, and already the cast are impressed with her. Between riding lessons, script reads, voice coaching, and setting Red up with life basics like her own bank account and a wardrobe, we haven’t had time to miss the wayward lawyer. Even my nicely settled parrot is more a part of our lives than Callisto these days.

“Enough of that, you rascal,” I say, swooping between them to grab Ozzie. I deposit him into his cage so we can eat without him sticking his beak into our chili con carne, and get the blanket I use as a night covering.

The parrot promptly curses at me, but then tilts his head and recites “alpha” in an attempt at Red’s sweet voice.

Red snorts into her hands.

“Go to sleep,” I order, flicking the blanket over his cage. “You’d think he’s heard nothing but swearing his whole life,” I mutter as I slide in at the dinner table.

“Andalpha,” Red adds slyly, lingering on the word in a way that gets my blood pumping.

We share a smile, and then Red recites her mutilated prayer over the food. I grin as we dig in, tearing apart my homemade gluten-free flatbreads to dip into the chili.

“Good!” Red says, toasting me with a triangle while she smiles.

My heart beats double. She’s so beautiful. I’m still in awe of the fact she’s mine and I get to share a house with her.

I don’t realize I’m staring until Red rests her chin on her hand and stares back at me, making the heat spread from my heart to my face.

Callisto clears his throat and slides an envelope across the table. “This finally came. Took long enough.”

“For me?” Red asks, her eyes lighting up.

When Callisto nods, she lurches across the table, snatches it up, and tears the envelope right through the middle. The letter inside flops weakly to the table in two parts.

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