Page 6 of Their Knotty Pack
Six months of dodging Pack Hansen, not wanting to hear their explanations for what happened.
Apparently,they got a call from the OMS while I was out of town visiting my parents, telling them an omega had chosen their scent card. Thisobviouslyled them to believe I had been okay with it, considering it's my place of work so Iclearlykept the card in the system,right?
I still remember pouring over the binders the day after I caught them in the act, and how I found the lost scent-card I had used as a type of security blanket in the back of one of them. I hadn't been able to find it for about a week, and I realized I must have dropped it at some point, and someone found it, putting it back into the binder—it would have been easy, considering the card still had "Pack 7392" stamped on the front.
When I had pulled it out, I realized that over the years, my scent had permeated the card as well. Which made me question even more why the blue-haired omega would have picked them. My scent should have made him steer clear.
Regardless of how it happened, the guys never should have accepted a date. It should have been a"Oops! We already have an omega, but thanks anyway!"situation. Even if theyreallythought I was okay with it, they should have talked to me about it first.
I'm never dealing with alphas again.
I just need to make sure not to mention that in front of Mrs. Lopez or she might fire me. The older, severe omega was hired as the manager of this OMS facility a few years ago, and she really started pushing the "happily ever after" agenda. Not that I minded before.
After all, I had thought I was in the middle of mine.
Before I know it, Melanie is leaving the room with a smile on her face, and Lanie and I start clearing up the binders to get ready for the next omega's appointment. The computer pings, letting us know what packs the system matched the omega with, and Lanie leans over, scanning the results.
"Huh." Lanie's brows furrow. "This one only has three matches."
"That can't be right," I frown, coming up behind her to look at the results, "there's always at least ten." There are so many packs in Starbrook City, even the pickiest omega has a good selection to pick from. "Check out the answers to the questionnaire. Maybe there are conflicting selections."
Her eyes scan the screen for a second before she sits back with a sigh. "Oh. That explains it."
"What?" I ask, my own gaze flitting over their answers. Kids in the future, up to four alphas, yes to needing the pack to be okay with their omega working…
"They asked to only be matched with packs that have a female alpha." My stomach sinks. Female alphas arealmostas rare as male omegas. I've only ever met one other male omega, and that's my dad. "Andour omega is male. Miles Hawthorne. Age twenty-seven…Wait. I know this one. I think he came in, what, six months ago? I remember because you were gone, and I couldn't believe we got a real life male omega. Declined the OMS bodyguard for his date and everything. Huh. I wonder what happened…"
Her voice fades as my pulse roars in my ears. Could it be the same guy? How many male omegasarethere in Starbrook City?
The thought of seeing him, being close enough to speak to him, fills me with…trepidation. But also…excitement?
I shouldn't want to see the omega who took my pack away from me, but at the same time, the memory of his face, the way my body lit up when his eyes met mine…
"Well, hopefully he's not too upset." Lanie says finally, snapping me out of my thoughts as she lays the three measly binders on the table.
"Let's hope," I choke out.
I haven't told anyone it was a male omega I caught Pack Hansen with. Probably because if I gave anyone his description, they'd be able to find him. If there aren't many male omegas to begin with, the search won't be hard to narrow down once I add in blue hair, glasses, and a tattoo sleeve.
There's no way I want to know anything about him.
But…don't I? This…thisconnectionI feel with the man I've seen for a total of forty-five seconds…it can't be real.
If it's not though, then why is my heart racing as we leave the room and head down the hallway towards the lobby? Why am I secretly hoping I see a head of blue hair as we round the corner?
The image is so surreal, that at first I'm sure I've imagined it.
Itishim.
His hair stands out like a beacon, but it's the way he's folded in on himself, curled into one of the egg-shaped chairs we have that pulls at my heartstrings. That makes me want to wrap him up and not let go.
His fingers toy with the corner of a blanket as he scrolls on his phone, unaware of our presence.
"Miles?" Lanie asks, and he startles, darting his gaze up to us. A tentative smile starts to fill his face, and my heart aches at the sight.
But then his eyes catch on me, widening slightly.
Shit. Does he recognize me? There's no way—
