Page 85 of Justice for Puck Bunnies

It would be better if we were all settled.

Doesn’t help I’m a fucking idiot who doesn’t know how to manage either Izzy or Mason.

I wasn’t rejecting her this morning, but I know she’s sensitive to that kind of thing. Had I been thinking at all, and not too focused on her body against mine, I’d have heard how it came out.

We don’t need to practice.

I’m such a fucking idiot.

I’d meant that being with her was natural. We don’t need to practice when it comes so easy.

And yet, all I’d been able to do was stare with an empty head while she literally ran away from me.

Mason’s admittedly easier to deal with. He fits in with us. Dominant enough to be trustworthy as another alpha but not so egotistical he can’t handle my authority. If anything, he doesn’t seem to want to be a pack alpha.

He defers to me fine. Listens well enough. Vocal without being controlling.

And he’s good with Vin. The kinship there is still growing but it has so much potential.

If we’re losing Izzy, at least we seem to be keeping Mason. I’d worried he’d leave when she did.

“Beauty is hard to contain,” Brad says beside me. The high-top table groans when leans his big frame against it, then jettisons an empty Champagne flute.

The comment raises my hackles.

“The best way to let a wildflower grow is to give it plenty of water and space,” I reply.

He smirks. “I think we both know that certain wildflowers aren’t allowed to remain free. It’d be a shame if someone picked her early.”

My teeth grind so hard my jaw aches. He doesn’t typically attend these events, and it’s clear he’s only come to this one for Izzy.

“Are you threatening her, captain?”

“Not at all, only commenting on the state of the world. Have you ever known a wildflower to make it to 28 without being picked?”

Have I known another omega that went unpaired into her late 20s?

No. Of course not.

The Admin begins matching omegas on their 20th birthdays. Most are bonded by 23.

The Admin is always watching their charges, always inserting itself, always forcing the parties’ hands.

I sip on my drink instead of answering him.

“That’s alright, old man,” he says. “We both know the answer. We both also know that her choices are limited.”

“Is there a point to this conversation?”

Brad grins this wide, toothy smile. It’s that same charming affectation he puts on for the cameras that’s so convincing to everyone else but is a warning in my eyes.

“I’d like to discuss the future with you.”

“The future.”

“Yes.”

“My future involves playing on the Cannons until my knee finally gives out and building my pack.”

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