Page 5 of Claiming Their Omega

“That’s what happens when you leave,” I point out. “You miss things.”

Grace glares at me. William, sensing the tension, tugs on her. “Let’s go and sit down, babe, get some food in us.”

“Good idea.” Grace tosses her head, her blonde hair catching in the light, showing off the white-gold strands. “Nice catching up with all of you.”

Cade snorts as the two of them walk off. “Nice? Yeah, right.”

I lead us back to our table. “She’s changed.”

“Grace never liked you,” Hendrix points out as we sit down.

“This wasn’t that. This was different. You saw how she dressed, how she stood. I’ll bet anything those shoes she was wearing cost hundreds of dollars. And they were heels too. Since when does Grace wear heels?”

“She’s always been elegant,” Easton says quietly.

“You can be elegant in a damn potato sack.” I sit back in my chair to get a good look at her through the crowd of the restaurant.

The others continue to talk, but I tune it out. I’m staring, and I know I shouldn’t but damn it I just can’t help it. I hate to admit it, but Grace has gotten even more beautiful with age, and she was enough of a temptation before.

Not that anyone knows about that. And no one ever will, if I have anything to say about it.

“I want you,” she’d whispered to me, her sweet lips at my jaw, her hands all over me. Christ, it’d taken everything in me not to give in.

Grace had only been eighteen at the time, and begging me—me, of all people—to take her virginity. “Just show me what it feels like, Jesse. I know you’ll make it feel good. You’ll take care of me and show me how to do it right, won’t you?”

A saint would’ve been tempted by her. If she’d been a bit older, and sober… but she hadn’t been. She was barely legal, and my best friend’s younger sister, and she’d been drunk. I wouldn’t ever take advantage of a woman that way.

I don’t think Grace understands that, though. After that night she got cold and sharp toward me. And now I see that even years later, that hasn’t changed. I get that her pride’s been wounded but I wish I could find a way to make her understand.

It sure would help if I could get her out of my damn head too.

Her smell haunts me. The spring of her, the freshness of her. The softness of her mouth as she kissed me. The way she felt against my body, her petite curves. I could lift her with just one hand, I’m sure of it, could just throw her over my shoulder, cart her off to my bed…

I mentally slap myself. No, we’re not going there. We’re not going down that road. Grace is off-limits for so many reasons, and I’m not gonna be the guy who pines after someone for years.

Yeah, I still think about her. Yeah, I still remember that night like it was yesterday. If I’m being really honest, there are times I’ve touched myself, imagining how that night could’ve gone, what would’ve happened if I’d been a little less honorable and said yes. Or, hell, what would happen if she came back and let me apologize, let me make it up to her.

But I’m not going to dwell on it. There’s no point. You can’t undo the past, anyway.

That Alpha laughs, showing off his too-white teeth, and a growl starts up in my throat.

I can’t help but wonder if he’s the man who took her virginity. If he’s the first man to have her. It makes my gut twist, hot and angry.

William leans in close to Grace, whispering something and tucking one of her long locks of hair behind her ear. Grace flushes and laughs, leaning right back into him.

When Grace left town to pursue a career in publishing, I never thought—

I cut that thought off too. Fuck this. It’s not my business.

I turn around and face the table, focusing on my pack mates. They’re what matters. Not Grace Whitmore.

Chapter 3

Grace

I try to put the four Alphas out of my mind the next morning. I have a strange amount of questions about how they became an official pack, about their ranch, about all they’ve been up to, but it’s none of my business and there’s no reason I should care.

Besides, I have something far more important to focus on: William meeting my family. Today’s the day.

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