Page 52 of The Omega Project

I’m pretty sure Emily is teasing as she flutters her lashes at him. “If you wanted to monitor my heartbeat, Finn, you could just give me a claiming bite.”

“Highly recommended,” Lang growls, nuzzling into his own mark on her neck. “In fact, three bites should be enough to deter even the biggest meathead on base.”

He looks meaningfully at us both, and I shuffle my feet, more than okay with us being delayed another hour or so, but when Finn stays silent, the smile dims in Emily’s eyes. “Fine. Give me the tracker.” She studies the tiny device, her nerves bleeding into her scent and giving it a burnt edge. “It’s not going to do anything weird to my insides, is it?”

“No, and you won’t even notice when it passes out of your system in the next couple of days.”

“Ew. Okay.” She pulls a face but swallows it back and then shrugs in my direction. “Do you get one, too?”

“I had mine with breakfast,” I quip, since I don’t think she wants to know how many permanent trackers I have implanted in my body. “Ready to go?”

She nods, and we head to the door, Lang still holding her close while Finn’s shoulder brushes mine. He waits until they’ve stepped out onto the verandah before he murmurs, “He tries anything at all, you get her out of there and we’ll deal with him later.”

“I doubt he’s going to ambush us,” I murmur back, but then think of that gleam of hurt in her eyes. “Or not in the way you’re thinking.”

“Psychological warfare.” Finn is clearly on the same page, his jaw tight as he watches Emily descend the stairs, her arm looped around Lang’s waist. “Just make sure he knows she belongs to us.”

I pause at the railing and grip his shoulder. “Don’t worry, brother. I couldn’t hide that from him if I tried.”

The drive to the base is a straight line down the coast, and Emily spends most of it staring out the window, lost in thought. I’m driving the most alpha car in our fleet – a Shelby Mustang in cherry-red that perfectly matches Emily’s boots. It has white racing stripes and the kind of souped-up engine that will have the guards on the gate drooling in envy. Not only is it always useful to advertise the perks of Finn’s employment, but I want their greedy eyes focused on the car, not its precious cargo. And they seem suitably distracted as we enter the base, our credentials getting us past the gatehouse and into a reception area. A couple of MPs pat us down, and since they don’t let their hands linger on Emily for long, we get through to her father’s office without leaving any broken bones in our wake.

The brigadier is a tall guy, but years behind a desk have taken some of the steel out of his spine. I’m not shy about looming over him when he gets to his feet, but he ignores my display of dominance, his cold eyes fixed on his daughter. He radiates narcissism the way a cane toad oozes deadly poison, and it takes a lot not to step between them as he extends a hand in Emily’s direction. “It’s good to see you again, my dear.”

“I can’t say the same, honestly.” Emily’s fists are stuffed in her pockets, leaving her father hanging as she sits in a visitor chair. There’s a framed portrait of his new pack on the desk in front of her, and I watch the colour drain out of her cheeks as she stares at it. “Let’s just cut to the chase so we can both get on with our day.”

“Fine.” He shoots me a dismissive glance as he resumes his seat. “Thank you for bringing my daughter to me, Captain, but you can wait in the hall until we’re done.”

“She’s only here as long as she wants to be, and I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him, taking up position behind her chair. “So, like she said, why don’t you cut to the chase and tell us why we’re here?”

“Alright. But first let me begin by saying that I approve of your pack choice, my dear.” Despite the grim look on my face, he only has eyes for Emily. “I would’ve thought Finn Visser was a little out of your league, but your mother tells me you caught the eye of his professor friend. That was a very clever move, playing on his loyalties.”

I stroke my thumbs over Emily’s shoulder blades; a private offering to slam her father’s face into the desk if she so desires. But she just makes a sound that’s half-dismissive, half-incredulous. “What makes you think I want your opinion on my pack?’

“Well, you were obviously looking for one with military connections. I’m assuming that’s because of my influence in your formative years.”

“If I like the company of soldiers, it has more to do with how Dee brought me up, not the crap you put me through as a kid.” She tips her head back to look up at me. I’m relieved to see that injured gleam has hardened into something more predatory, although she gives me a soft smile as she says, “In my experience, there are two sort of soldiers: self-adulating egotists who worship war from behind their desks, and the warriors on the frontline who put service before self.”

I couldn’t have put it better myself, and I watch her father’s face tighten at the insult. I’m still not sure what his agenda is here, but his scent thickens, like metal that’s starting to rust. “And yet the only bite on your neck is from the professor,” he muses. “How do you explain that the others haven’t claimed you yet? Is it because they’re waiting for arealomega to come along, do you think?”

The way he emphasises the word ‘real’ has the hackles rising on the back of my neck. “Watch it!”

But Emily is up and whirling out of her seat before I can reach for him. “Forget it. He’s not worth it.” Her steely gaze cuts backto her father. “Are we done here, or do you have any more insults you want to toss my way?”

“Not insults, but some fatherly advice.” He looks at me with a curl of his lip. “Soldiers are a dime a dozen, Emily, but Finn Visser is in a league of his own. Lock him down before he realises you’re as mediocre as that man you’re standing next to.”

“Fuck you,” she hisses, grabbing my hand and giving it a tight squeeze. “Creed is ten times the man you’ll ever be.”

The brigadier waves off the insult, his gaze dropping to a list on his blotter. Conversation topics, I realise, watching in disbelief as he draws a red line through the top one. “You also need to tell your mother I’m cutting her off,” he goes on. “The allowance you’re getting from Finn Visser will have to stretch to cover her costs as well.”

I can feel Emily straining towards the door, but she pauses to frown at him, an angry blush climbing her neck. “What are you talking about? You left Mum without a cent to her name.”

“I’ve paid Lorelei two thousand a month every year since we parted ways,” he counters, then leans forward with a chuckle. “Oh, she didn’t tell you, did she? Your mother always had an impressively ingrained selfish streak.”

“We’re leaving,” I growl, but we haven’t taken a step before he rises to his feet.

“Captain, tell your alpha that if he persists in meddling with Vast Horizons, we’ll be forced to look more closely at the Hill boy’s contract. Since he departed the program early, he’ll need to either complete it in its entirety, or turn himself in to be examined for feral tendencies.” His cold eyes settle back on his daughter, and he gives a dismissive sniff. “It would be remiss of us to let designation mutations roam freely through the community.”

I’m tempted to cut off his nose rather than let him scent her again, but he’s still a senior officer and we’re still standing on an active base.

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