Page 95 of Pack Rivals: Part Two
I need to be sure that whatever I choose here, it’s right for me. I’m not wasting the next few years of my life on another man, or more men, who don’t deserve me.
20
Hardy
Molly standsup and pushes back her chair. “Wow, that was intense.” She pulls some empty plates towards her. “I think you should all take a minute to breathe.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Bea says, and I have to blink away the crushing pain of disappointment that pulses through my body. She needs time to decide. To consider her options. That’s all. It isn’t a no. And a no, if I’m honest, is probably all we actually deserve.
I have hope though.
I can’t help but have hope.
“Let’s get you boys started on some washing up,” Molly says.
She’s been having a fine time bossing us all the hell about, something none of us would ever have considered, let alone consented to, in the past. But she’s promised to help us and Axel and Angel seem convinced she can. It’s worth a try, even if I think the cheeky little omega needs to be taken over someone’s knee and spanked.
I glance over at Bea. I wonder if that’s something our omega would be interested in. She certainly has the type of plump ass made for spanking.
Ouromega. I’ve got to stop thinking like that.
She isn’t ours.
She may never be.
“There’s a dishwasher,” Silver points out, as he piles about a dozen dishes in his big hands.
“Which has mysteriously broken down this evening,” Molly says, with mischief. It’s going to be near impossible to get her to behave once this ‘helping’ business is over.
We all follow Silver’s example, gathering up plates, cutlery and all the leftovers. Bea stands up and tries to help, but I drag her back down into her chair.
“No,” I say, “you’re our guest.”
She protests but nobody’s hearing any of it and soon she’s sitting back watching as the rest of us clear up.
Molly’s reminded us numerous times that omegas like to be spoiled. And not just in the bedroom or with expensive gifts. Housework, she insists, is a major turn on.
I’m not sure I believe that last bit, not until it’s only me and her left in the room, and I’m bending over the table, sweeping a cloth over the table top. Then I notice the way her scent peaks and her gaze grows hot.
I flex my biceps and her mouth makes a silent ‘oh’.
Yes, there’s definitely hope.
When the table is clean, I toss the cloth to one side and lean back, folding my arms over my chest in a way that makes every muscle in my arms bulge.
I grin at her.
“Are you okay, little one?”
“Yes,” she says, chewing on her lip as her eyes dart to my chest, then dart away again. “It’s a lot to take in, you know. A lot to think about …” Her expression turns serious, and she swallows. “Hardy, if I don’t … if I don’t decide to join this pack, do you think you’ll all still stay together?”
“If you don’t …” I repeat, closing my eyes as pain sparks in my heart. I massage my chest with my palm. “Yes, I think we will. It should always have been this way. But,” I open my eyes and stare into the strangely amber depths of hers, “there’ll be a massive hole without you. We’ll never be complete.” I stare down at her face all earnest and fucking kissable and shake my head with a chuckle. “Shit, that sounded something dramatic like Connor would say. I don’t want to put pressure on you.”
“You really believe that,” she asks, standing up from her chair.
I guess I can’t blame her for finding it hard to trust us, for doubting us when we tell her something is white when we spent a hell of a lot of time telling her it was black before.
“Yeah, I do. Look.” I dig into my pocket and pull out the small key ring I’ve been working on for her. I open my palm and show her the carving of an old-fashioned key, whittled from wood. “To go with your other one.”
