Page 124 of Party Girl: How a Naughty Omega Finds Love
I bristle. Why is she so happy?
“Oh, honey. It’s starting.” She reaches for me, but I take a quick step back and snarl.
My outburst surprises the both of us, and I narrow my eyes, unable to help the growl that rumbles in my lips.
“Ope.” She chuckles. “Pre-heats are fickle things. Are you hungry?”
Well, shit. The blanket makes a lot more sense now.
“Ravenous.”
“Do you feel like salty or sweet food?”
“Both.”
She grins. “I’m the same way. I have the perfect thing for you. I’ll be right back.” She dashes away with a little skip to her step.
Her cadence shouldn’t piss me off as much as it does. Bet she wouldn’t be so happy if her feet were broken.
Whoa, Whitney. That’s a little psycho.
I remind myself that Melanie is a sweetheart and my emotions are fueled by omega pre-heat rage. It’s not her fault I despise joyful things today, it’s the damn hormones. Leaving the door open, I return to my strange combination of food and happily stuff my face until she returns.
“Here we go. Sea salt brownies and my favorite crack chips.”
“I can’t have crack, Melanie, I’m on an all carb diet.”
She giggles. “These have all the carbs and none of the drug—they are addicting though.” Taking the seat next to me at the table, she places the containers of food in front of me. “What else can I get you? Do you feel like stabbing things yet?”
I choke on my coffee.
“Definitely stabby then. Don’t worry, I have a rage station in the garage.”
“Rage station?” I ask, interest piqued.
“It’s the best, especially those first few days when the hormones hit you so hard you want to punch a puppy.”
“Melanie, your son is a cop, you can’t punch animals.”
“I know, I know,” she says like she’s being scolded. “That’s why I had my mates build me a rage room.”
I stare at the little bits of rice left on the plate, wondering if it would be weird to lick them off. Melanie scoots the chips toward me.
“Crack.”
I side-eye her and grab the bag. “You’re funny.”
“Of course I am. Where do you think Asher gets it from?” She sighs and glances around. “Things smell like they’re going well.”
I scrunch my nose. “Don’t embarrass me.”
“It’s okay, honey. I have sex too.”
“Melanie,” I complain, sticking a chip in my mouth.
“Fine, fine. Bring the chips, let’s go rage.” She pats the table and hops up, still cheery as hell.
“If these have real crack in them,” I warn her, shoving another chip into my mouth.
