Page 81 of Pack Choice
“Says the man with … how many freaking houses do you have now?”
“Fuck knows,” I say, dropping my empty bottle to the ground and opening the next one. “So,” I say, pausing to take a cold sip, “wanna tell me what happened with the omega today?”
“I have a feeling you already know.”
“You can fill me in on all the tasty nuggets. You know, the part where you tell me what she looks like when she comes, what she sounds like.” I groan, tipping back my head.
That woman has lodged herself securely inside my head and I can’t shake her free. I wasn’t bullshitting to those fans earlier today. She’s all I’m thinking about. I nearly fucking crashed the car on trial circuits today, my mind distracted by unholy goddamn images of her, and I never, ever crash.
“You know I’m not going to share that shit with you,” he says.
“Shame,” I say, staring up at the rapidly darkening sky. “You used to.”
“Things change, buddy.”
“Yeah.” I tip my head back and take another long gulp of my beer, letting the cold liquid swim down my throat. I stopped sharing a long time ago, telling everyone who’d listen that it wasn’t for me. It was a fucking lie. Sharing an omega, it fucking turns me on. Working with each other to undo her completely. Fucking her together. But when you’re famous, sharing isn’t an option; too many assholes wanting to show they’re better than River Caspian, wanting to prove they have a bigger dick. I can’t stand that shit. I’ve been better off alone.
It’s hot in this city. I drop my bottle to the ground and shrug off my shirt. “Wanna go for a swim?”
“It’s 8pm.”
“And?”
“No, I don’t want to swim.” I undo my jeans and shimmy them down my legs. “Just keep the noise down, okay?” He glances up towards the house. “And your boxers on. I don’t want your junk floating around in my pool.”
“Have you got a problem with my junk?”
“As long as you keep it to yourself.”
“And away from the omega, you mean.”
“As far away from my omega as it’s possible for one man’s junk to be.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I can’t promise that, Colt.”
I lift my hands above my head and bend my knees, launching off from the sides and cutting into the water. It’s colder than my fucking beer and I make a note to tell Colt to invest in a heating system as I glide through the clear water and hit the tiles at the other end. I come up, breaking through the surface and shaking the water out of my eyes.
“You know she has a date tonight?”
“The omega?” Colt’s brow furrows. “Yeah, she told me.”
“With a pack. You know who they are?”
He shakes his head, his eyes locked on me the way they do when he’s interested in something I have to say. “Pack Winston. My freaking accountants.” I laugh, shaking my head.
“They wealthy?”
“They’re accountants. What do you think? I mean,” I lay back in the water, my toes bobbing to the surface, “not rich like me,” I grin, “but they have money. Not that Molly cares about things like that.”
“You don’t know what she cares about.”
“You’re not seriously worried about a bunch of fucking nerds are you, Colt?”
He fidgets on his seat. “I’m more worried about the bodyguard.”
I swing my feet back to the bottom of the pool and wade through the water towards him.
“The bodyguard?”
