Page 52 of The Gamma's Second Chance

“Alpha Stone!”

We all turn towards the grand carpeted staircase framing either side of the two-story lobby, where Alpha Prescott—or, rather, Nathaniel Prescott Andrews IV, alpha of Golden Moon Valley—descends towards us. He’s clean-shaven, his short, light brown hair slicked back just so, and his dull blue eyes colder than the fake, friendly smile he flashes at us, showing off his perfectly straight teeth.

Haven winces and nods in realization. “Ah. That’s why.”

He rubs his hands together, then spreads them out to gesture grandly at the room when he reaches us. “Alpha Stone, welcome to my hotel,” Alpha Prescott says.

“Kenway-Stone,” Haven corrects him as she glares at his offered hand, which Wesley intentionally doesn’t shake. “Our last name is Kenway-Stone. It’s been Kenway-Stone for over a year now.”

“Oh, of course, Haven, I just—”

“Luna Haven,” I grit out through my teeth, forcing a smile on my face.

Prescott glances at me and then turns back to Haven, but he doesn’t correct himself or greet me. An awkward laugh leaves his mouth and it hangs in the air between us as he waits for us to laugh with him.

We don’t.

He clears his throat and shoves his hands in the pockets of his navy blue pants. “I hope your drive down the mountain from your quaint little pack was uneventful?”

“It was.” Wesley grabs Haven’s hand in his and uncurls the fist she’s made with it as he links his fingers with hers and gives it a little squeeze. “Shall we join the others?”

“Of course.” Prescott backs up a step and gestures towards the stairs. “Right this way.”

The four of us follow him as he leads us up the ornate staircase covered with red carpet, glancing over his shoulder when we reach the halfway point. “Oh. This meeting is for ranked members only,” he says, giving Cassandra a pointed look. “The assisting omegas are meeting in—”

Cassandra freezes beside me, her green eyes widening and her hand tightening around the skirt of her floral dress gripped in her fist, and a warning growl slips out of my mouth. But it’s covered by Wesley’s voice, thank the Goddess.

“Cassandra is a visiting emissary from the island of the oracles,” he says. “She is a guest in my pack and will be treated with the same respect given to any ranked member.”

The effect on Prescott is immediate. He regards Cassandra acutely, his eyes lingering on her much too long for my wolf’s liking before he says, “I didn’t realize we had such an esteemed guest among us.”

He descends the few stairs to where Cassandra and I stand. He takes her hand in his, lifting it to his mouth to kiss, and it’s all I can do to keep from pouncing on him and ripping his arm out of its socket as his lips brush her skin, holding eye contact with her the entire time as he does. But Wesley’s hand grabs my shoulder and squeezes—hard—keeping me in place.

Cassandra gives him a halfhearted smile, and Prescott drops her hand, turning to head up the stairs without another glance back at her. She breathes a relieved sigh, and I do as well asshe steps closer to me and lets me wrap my arm around her waist for a brief hug, a quick moment of connection to reassure myself and my wolf and calm the growing irritation inside me. My throat bobs as I swallow it all back, pushing it down and ignoring it, using the contact with her to anchor me. She’s soft and delicate in my arm, with a gentle strength hiding beneath her unassuming, cheerful exterior.

She stands on her tiptoes, reaching up to whisper in my ear. “Don’t worry. It’s still yours.” Then she pulls away, turns, and heads up the stairs like she didn’t instantly harden my dick with three simple words.

She smiles at me over her shoulder and winks, her skirt returning to her hand, the skin exposed by the open back of her dress peeking through the strands of her thick, bouncy, golden brown hair as she faces front again and finishes climbing the stairs to the second floor.

Goddess, this female. I chuckle to myself and shake my head, eyes flicking to my suit-covered forearm, where her name is written on me in permanent marker. Counting to ten, I try to think of anything other than Cassandra’s pretty pink lips. I try to imagine something besides her naked body spread out on my bed as I wrote my name on her upper thigh.

Try, and fail.

I mount the last few stairs slower than I normally would, letting the problem in my pants calm down. Later. I will have her later. Now is not the time to give in to the possessive urges she awakens in me. Not when we have other alphas waiting for us, and we have an event to help plan.

But when we get home? When we get home, I will lay claim to her body once more.

My scent on her fades far too quickly for my liking, and I couldn’t insist she wear one of my T-shirts to this meeting. For now, I will have to settle for the brief, subtle moments ofconnection and the knowledge that my name remains on her thigh, just like her name remains on my arm.

Haven and Cassandra both wait for me on the landing while Prescott and Wesley make small talk as they meander towards the room where we’re meeting with the other alphas. Wesley is tense and clearly not thrilled with talking to Prescott by himself. But he does what is needed to keep up appearances and maintain a modicum of camaraderie and to save the rest of us from having to put up with Prescott’s snobbery.

“What’s an omega?” Haven asks when I reach them.

Cassandra and I exchange a glance, and my lip curls, another growl threatening to escape me. “It’s a term for a wolf who isn’t of any rank,” I explain. “It’s outdated, and most packs don’t use it anymore, but there are a few who still do.” I flick my eyes towards Prescott.

Haven grimaces, and Cassandra links her arm with Haven’s, leaning close to her so they won’t risk being overheard. “Some elitist alphas began using it as a derogatory term, meant to make any wolf who wasn’t of rank or wasn’t a warrior feel inferior. As you can imagine, it quickly morphed from a generic term for the rest of the pack to an insult.”

“But without the pack, there is no alpha,” Haven says, shaking her head. “That way of thinking isn’t becoming of a leader.” She glares at the back of Prescott’s head as he opens the door to the meeting room. “Although…”

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