Page 72 of Your Wild Omega

“Right.” How could I forget? If he thought a dog was a threat, imagine him laying eyes on a lion. “How about a park, then?”

Rickon’s gaze slides across to the leash dangling from Zack’s neck. I chuckle, knowing exactly what he’s thinking. “Yeah, let’s take him for a walk.”

But I’m the one who needs it more. I want to dig my feet into the grass and let the wind ruffle my hair, and remind myself I’m alive.

Rickon’s phone buzzes as we’re getting out. His expression falters as he reads the message.

“What is it?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “We’ve got a court date with my ex.”

My top lip curls up instinctively. That big bulky bastard who attacked us? “Damn. I’d nearly forgotten about that asshole.”

Rickon leans in and rests his forehead on mine. “You don’t have to be there.”

I clasp his cheeks in my hands. “But I will be.”

His smile is worth everything. “I love you, Red Jones.”

I give him my answer by pressing my lips to his. Hot as our kiss is, it doesn’t drive out the chill sliding through my veins. If that court case is soon, I bet the fucker from the House of Bitches will be next. I couldn’t bear to look him in the eye in a courtroom.

But what if he walks free?

Chapter twenty-eight

Callisto

Media is a terrifying thing. It hasn’t even been two full days since the gala, but every gossip rag in the city features Red and her leashed alpha on the front cover. The titles are imaginative too. My favorites areCatfight Bares AllandDress Fury Unleashed.

I pick up a copy of the first one as I wait in the checkout line at the supermarket, staring at the photo of Red smiling on the red carpet. She’s hemmed in by her alphas, with Rickon on one side and Zack on the other. Ricky looks like a real stud in his suit with his homemade glittering vest and pearl-pink long-sleeved shirt. And, of course, the smoky eyes with a splash of teal.

My heart throbs and I tuck the glossy magazine into my cart as the line moves forward.

I once warned Rickon that Red might use him to get her foot in the door, but I never considered what her fame might do for him. His previous actress hardly ever let him appear in her photos, but it’s clear Red isn’t the same. Her meteoric rise to fame will take him along in her blazing trail. He deserves all of it. She evencredited his fashion, although I’d bet my foot she made up the name on the spot. Ri-Jones Couture. I chuckle.

While I’m thinking of it, I check out the domain names for the different versions ofRi-Jones Coutureand buy them all, along with shooting off a message to a patent attorney I know to get the ball rolling on securing the trademark in my friend’s name.Ricky will have his hands busy with his pack, so I’ll snap them up before anyone else does and send them his way.

The line moves forward, and I set my items on the conveyor belt, double-checking I have everything. It feels strange to be shopping with my own two hands. Usually my groceries get delivered to the apartment and the doorman takes them right up into my kitchen. I put a stop to that once Red and Rickon moved in, but Ricky’s been taking care of groceries since.

It’s even stranger to be taking the ingredients to my parents’ house.

When I pull into the driveway, Lector hangs half-in and half-out of his car, running interior polish over the 1976 Chevrolet and trying not to look like he’s watching the road. I never flake on appointments I’ve made, but I guess I’ve had so few with my family in the last couple of years he doesn’t know that.

I wave and he comes over to help me get the bags out of the trunk.

“We could have got this ordered for you,” he says after we exchange greetings, peeking into the bags.

“Yeah, I know, but there was something therapeutic about picking it out myself.” Even if it meant starting work at four a.m. this morning.

“Right. Well, Lexi and Simon will be back any minute. She’s out getting her nails done.” He drops the bags on the countertop in the kitchen. “Need anything else?”

I shake my head. “I can find my way around. Thanks.”

He hesitates, looking to the door and back. Does he not trust me?

“How is Mom today?” I ask. “Anything I need to know?” Now I understand her anxiety comes and goes without warning, not something that can be predicted or controlled.

He smiles, warming to the one topic he can handle. “She’s good. Excited to have a date with her son.”

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