Page 2 of Tying the Knot
I look up at the pack beta from my newspaper, which I’m reading at the huge island in the middle of the room. “Thanks.”
“What are we doing to celebrate?” he asks, opening the fridge and poking around in the packed-out cold cupboard until he finds the orange juice.
“Nothing.”
He glances at me in shock. “What? You’re forty.”
“Yeah, and?”
“It’s a big deal.”
“Not to me.” I go back to reading the paper.
“You’re turning into a real old fart, you know that?” he grouses.
I get his annoyance. He would go for drinks to celebrate it being Tuesday. He is young, only twenty-seven, and he should go out and have fun. Me? I’m getting to the age now where I want to stay in, read my book and go to bed.
Fuck.Maybe I am turning into an old fart.
I run my hand over my cropped blonde hair, my hand coming to rest on the back of my neck.
That realisation doesn’t make me change my mind about my birthday, though. It’s just another day.
“Jesus,” he mutters, shaking his head, his light brown eyes locking onto my green ones. “Come on. Just a few drinks.” He gives me the puppy-dog eyes. I know for a fact that expression can sway any woman from here to the shining sea.
But it doesn’t work on me.
“Can’t. I’m on call.”
“Oh, might’ve known,” he complains, throwing his head back. “Can’t even take the night off from being the badass Inter-pack Parliament Taskforce Commander even for one night.”
“IfI’mon call, that means you are as well,” I say with a tight grin, placing my paper on the island to glare at him.
“You’re the worst.”
“You love me, really.”
He sighs. “Okay, hotshot. Fill me in. What’s the scoop?”
“We think they’re making their move tonight. We have to be ready.”
“We’ve been watching them for weeks and nothing. How can we be so sure it’s tonight?”
“Rumblings.”
He rolls his eyes. “You seriously need to get shagged.”
“I’m good, but thanks.”
“Seriously. Nik and Kaleb are getting pissed off with this waiting game, and so am I. When are we going to find an omega to mate with? These one-nighters suck balls. I want to settle down.”
I growl and hunch my shoulders. “When I say so.” I know I’m being selfish and a dick, but I can’t help it. I cannot mate with someone I’m not attracted to on a level that runs soul deep, and I can’t help that I’m not attracted toanyomegas on that level. Looks aren’t everything, or we’d be shacked up with someone by now. It has to be perfect. And it’s not like we have been sitting around waiting for one to drop into our laps. We’ve been proactive, but they are just so…blah.
I hate thinking that, because I’m sure they’re lovely omegas who will make a great mate to any other pack. But to me, they’re boring and blah and can’t hold a conversation to save their lives, never mind talk about real-world stuff that matters. That mattersto me.My job matters to me. It’s not just a job, but a calling. I see all sorts of shit going down, and I want someone I can talk to about it at the end of the day. Someone to unburden to who might not fully understand but will get what it means to me.
The Inter-Pack Parliament, our government that rules from Westminster, hired me to take down gangs of alphas who are selling all sorts of shit on the black market, from rut suppressants, which are not only illegal but extremely risky, to watered-down heat suppressants, which put vulnerable omegas lives in danger, to any old drug they can get their hands on. If I have to work every day from now until I die, I will remove every single one of these arseholes from the streets, even if it ends up killing me.
“We need to talk about this,” Dylan states, rapping his knuckles on the island.
