Page 114 of Your Wild Omega

I snort orange juice everywhere. The alcohol burns through my nostrils and trickles down my face. After a strangled moment, I give up any attempt at decency and just splutter-laugh what I can’t swallow into the blanket.

“You okay there?” Callisto asks.

“Yep, just snorting vodka and juice like an elephant in a pool.”

He laughs at the visuals.

The nightmare’s faded into a hazy memory and I feel lighter. “I think I can sleep now,” I tell him once I’ve cleared my nose. “Thanks for listening.”

“Anytime; I mean it. Oh, and look for a letter in the mail. I sent you something. Hope you like it.”

“Better not be a bill,” I retort.

“Ha! Definitely not a bill.”

“Okay, thanks.” I cradle the phone to my ear, reluctant to leave. “Good night, then, I guess.”

“Or good morning,” he shoots back cheekily, and the line clicks off.

I throw the ruined blanket into the laundry sink and run some water, leaving it to soak as I head upstairs. What exactly is Callisto’s sending? If it’s personal and not related to him being my lawyer, it’ll be my first time getting a letter from a friend. The thought makes me smile.

Chapter forty-three

Callisto

I snatch a few hours of sleep after Red’s surprise call, but the omega appears in my dreams. Nothing I can recall specifically, but the warmth lingers as I dress for the day. It mingles with the relief I felt the moment I heard her voice on the phone. I’d missed her more than I realized. Red calling me just because she needed someone to talk to feels wonderful. I’m still important to her.

The cotton undershirt slides over my head and I smooth it down my torso as I roll the conversation around in my head. Red fills every corner of my mind.

It’s great she called, but what does it say that she expected to find me awake at one o’clock in the morning? I guess I really am a workaholic. Or something worse, according to Simon.

As I turn to lift my shirt off the hanger, I catch my reflection in the hotel’s wardrobe mirror. The inked clock on my shoulder, which freezes the moment my dad passed away, ripples as I move.

I’ve forgotten how to stop and smell the roses, or, in my case, the omega. I think I need to give myself a timeout to reflect, so I never make the same mistake again. And a visual reminder of this lesson wouldn’t go astray. For a moment, I cover the clock with one hand. I got it to remind myself to never waste time, but unfortunately my definition ofwastegot messed up.

Now I want a reminder not to mess up my priorities ever again.

The idea stays with me as I ease into my shirt and add a vest and tie before walking across the busy street to the office.

A quick scan of the interactive whiteboard hosting my project management schedule helps me get my head into work mode, but a corner of my mind always returns to the Jones pack. The call with Red soothed some of the raw agony in my heart, which has burned ever since Zack pulled rank on me. I know I don’t have a place in their family, but it feels like he and I have unfinished business.

Hale calls out as he swings into the office and hangs his cashmere cardigan over the back of his chair. “Morning, Callisto.”

I lean in my doorway to watch him settle into the desk in the outer room. The clever paralegal sports a unique style of sophisticated and shaggy-chic fashion. His black suit pants nip in with professional tailoring, and his leather belt flashes with a designer buckle. But his wiry hair fights the confines of a hair tie to hang halfway down his back in a thick bush. Usually he wears it up in a man bun, which makes me think he might’ve run late today.

He catches me staring and crooks one brow. “If you’ve got time to ogle me, you must not have enough cases.”

I snort, since we both know that’s not true. “I’ve been thinking—”

“Dear God, no.” He holds up a palm. “I donothave time for that kind of cataclysm.” Hale dives for his takeaway coffee and slurps half the contents in one hit.

“Hilarious.” I roll my eyes. “Actually, I need you to schedule some vacation time for me. Three weeks should do it, whenever I have a break between court appearances.”

My assistant jumps up and stalks to the window overlooking downtown Laversham, crossing his arms as he stares out into the city.

“What are you doing?” I ask, frustrated. “Didn’t you hear me?”

He throws me a dry smile. “Cataclysm just upgraded to Armageddon, and I plan to enjoy the view from here, thanks.” He raps his knuckles against the glass.

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