Page 161 of Carmichael's Omega

Carmichael's shaking shoulders turn into loud laughter. The pack swarms a little closer, smiles, barks, and grins abound.

I shrink back a little. The pack had to have just heard us argue. And just hours after Carmichael's very public "Claim."

"I kissed both," I hear one of the males say. He seems overly proud, considering the black eye and swollen nose, as well as the large wound on his upper left arm that is still oozing blood.

"I huggedandkissed them," José says.

I look at Mattie. Carmichael's laughter has stopped. His arms wrap around our shoulders, tucking us close to his side. His chest rumbles as he growls softly. Mattie and I share a smug smirk.

"Naughty omegas," Carmichael whispers as the braggadocio continues all around us. His hands drop as he squeezes our bottoms, almost as if to reassure himself that we are under his hands and not another's.

We all stop on the last rise before Carm's papa's... or, well, I guess it's his mama's house. The pack fans out behind us, as if we're a wild hunting party, with Carmichael at the tip of the spear.

He takes his arms off of our shoulders, then takes one step forward, keeping us one step back.

Mattie and I share another glance, this one of bewilderment. Is this another part of the LoboGris tradition? I think we can hit pause on more traditions for a few days at least.

Then we see Teague. Averyunhappy Teague. As we approach, he inhales deeply, his eyes seeming to glow with fervor. I have to amend my first impression; unhappy may be an understatement.

"My pups," he rumbles.

Carmichael takes another step away from us. Rique catches me when I start to follow. I look up at him, but his gaze is forward, solemnly watching my mate approach my brother.

"Why do my pups stink of males?" Teague's chest rumbles with aggression, his tongue thick in a mouth full of sharp teeth.

"They smell of their pack," Carmichael answers, shouting it into the air just like he did before... well, before.

Like a dork, I smell my arm. "Do I smell to you?" I whisper to Mattie.

He shakes his head at me, "I can't smell anything but Carm and you and me."

"Why do they smell of this pack, Punk?" Teague takes a step toward Carmichael, kicking a bundle of cloth at his feet. The bundle groans, and I hear Nico curse audibly behind us.

"They are Claimed,Jefe," Carmichael answers, still swaggering forward proudly.

Teague's face goes pale. "Yeah?" He rubs his face. "Ok, Ok," he mumbles. Grabbing his shirt by the neckline, he pulls it off over his head and tosses it to the side. Flexing his arms, he rolls his head on his shoulders, cracking his neck. "I was raised GriMaw, you little fucker," he snaps. "I know what you-"

When he's only a couple of feet away, he stops short. The oddest expression crosses his face. He stares at our mate, up and down, in a slow perusal. Fingers flexing, our brother's sharp green eyes narrow before they turn and look straight at Mattie.

"Oh, goddess," Mattie ducks his head shyly, his shoulders curling. "Is he still looking at me?" he asks me in a faint whisper.

"Why?" I whisper back.

"Carmichael smells like... um... like my stuff in... where I was."

Right. Oh. I step in front of Mattie. "Crouch down a little so he can't see you." I'm fire-engine red, too.

Carmichael's shoulders are shaking again. "This isn't funny, Punk," Teague growls. "You've... motherfu-... Mattie, you OK?"

"Yup," Mattie answers with a squeak. He snakes his hand around me with a thumbs-up.

I hear the pack whispering in Spanish. Deliberate, I assume, so that we don't understand. The snickers make me cringe until I hear José say, a little too loudly, "they’re bothchulitos,sí?I kissed them both!"

"I leave to grab this motherfucker and… I can't believe this shit! Come here, Mattie," Teague orders, jamming his fingers through his hair.

"Don't order him around," Mr. Hypocritical-Alpha-Mate-who-tricked-us says.

"He has been Claimed," Rique speaks up, coming forward until he is standing next to Mattie.

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