Page 124 of Justice for Puck Bunnies

Mason smirks in the corner of my eye. He tilts his head.

“I haven’t heard your voice in more than three long weeks. Don’t stop now,” he says.

“That was remarkably tame,” she replies.

“I’m on my best behavior.”

“Which is still atrocious.” She gives a small smile.

“Only with you, my sexy bunny. I’m powerless in the presence of the lust of my life.”

The smile broadens then, and it confirms that we were meant to do this.

Clearing my throat, I nudge the stack of papers on her side of the table forward. Her eyebrows tent, but she leans forward to take them.

“Wyatt Pack is making a formal request to court Omega Isabelle Sutton.”

Her eyes go wide, but she doesn’t interrupt me as I read the long list of cautions, caveats, and warnings the Admin requires when making these types of formalized requests.

When I reach the end, her thumb rubs over the page.

“It’s signed by Patrick Wyatt, lead alpha of the Wyatt Pack.”

“It is.”

“You completed the bonds.”

“We did,” Vin says, and the pride shines through in his tone.

“I see,” she says, but there’s a discordant note in the reaction.

I continue going through the paperwork we’ve presented her with.

Formal recognition of our pack status.

Background checks, medical screenings, and financial histories, which I summarized rather than making her suffer through me reading it aloud.

And then, the application to court exclusively. It needs to be signed by both the pack and the omega. My signature is already at the bottom.

Izzy is ours.

She always has been, and she always will be.

She listens patiently while I go through the motions. This is my second time in the process, but the first time I’ve truly cared.

Virginia, my first omega, was a close friend. A lover eventually. She was in love with my lead alpha and was someone I cared about, but not someone I craved.

Every muscle, bone, and drop of blood in me begs and demands to make Izzy ours.

Hell, I might be having a panic attack.

When I’m done, she nods and awkwardly leans forward to set the stack of papers back on the table.

Her eyes are downcast and she shudders.

“What do you think, Izzy? Will you sign the papers?”

It’s cold, but this is what the Admin demands. I don’t want there to be any question that Izzy is ours.

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