Page 24 of Alpha Hunger

“Don’t chastise me.”

She slams her fork down. “Fine.”

“Melanie, have your PA call my PA and set up a meeting.”

“I’ll set it up now.” She pierces me with a glare.

“He’s got a ten thirty tomorrow,” I say.

“Ten thirty won’t do, I’m afraid. A lunch?”

“One thirty?”

“I’m busy for lunch,” Hunger interrupts as the appetizers hit the table. Seafood.Yes, Lord Almighty, yes.Salmon and shrimp, raw. Octopus sautéed in garlic and lemon. I grab my plate.

Hunger snatches it. “Allow me. What do you like?”

The mayor rolls her eyes. “Ten thirty, then.”

I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her lips stretch into a smile. “I like that,” she says. “It strokes my dynamic.”

“Which one, if I may ask?”

“You may ask her anything,” Hunger says.

The mayor looks at me as if I’ve grown horns. “Alpha, of course.”

Oh.I make an oval shape with my mouth.

“Who lied to you about your dynamic?” he asks.

“The blood tests prove my dynamic.”

Hunger snorts. “Your blood tests prove nothing. Any dynamic proven by some sort of genetic mapping should be discouraged. Perhaps one day you’ll have the pleasure of meeting my aunt Sidone. She will cure you of your delusions.”

Okay, then. Apparently, Hunger is determined to make the dinner experience utterly uncomfortable. It must be the suit. The mayor really pissed him off when she sent it. It would look nice on him, but hell no, I’m not going there.

The prince continues. “Omega, you see now why I have to paint my face? It is incredibly annoying that at seven feet and three hundred and fifty-seven pounds, I have to state my dynamic as I strap people onto poles. On Regha, I walk into the town and people know who I am. On Earth, I paint my face.”

“Real hardship,” I mutter.

“Is that sarcasm, Omega?”

I hate being called an Omega. It feels demeaning. All the Betas hold jobs, and all the Alphas hold jobs too. Omegas? We’re tagged, then bagged as soon as our heats drive us out of our homes and into the streets.

“Ms. Mayor,” I say and inhale deeply. Wine may make me horny, but it also gives me courage. “What have you done for Omega rights lately?”

She leans back in her chair. “Nothing much, mainly because the Hordesmen won’t bend on any Omega issues.”

“Which part is unbendable?” I challenge.

“My cock,” Hunger says, fork poised over the octopus. He wiggles his nose and picks seafood from another plate. He’s ignoring the silence at the table. Everyone is eavesdropping, and I’m probably as red as the rose petals scattered over the white tablecloth. Hunger carries on as if he hasn’t dropped a cock bomb. He tastes a shrimp and a piece of salmon, then loads them on a plate. “Eat.” He drops the plate in front of me.

I’m all too happy with the distraction of food. Other people follow suit.

Hours into the dinner, the music changes and draws the couples onto the dance floor. Wine has definitely warmed my body. Hunger has taken my chair and brought it between his legs. He leans his chin on my shoulder, sometimes sniffing the crook of my neck. My legs are crossed, one over the other, and his hand rests on my thigh where he taps my skin with his claw.

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