Page 33 of Alpha Hunger

On my screen, I click the notifications, pretending I’m working, but tune in to what they’re saying. Hunger wants to send a unit out to my uncle’s house. Melanie disagrees, wanting to send her own unit, meaning her police service. Apart from the Horde, the mayors have their own police force, and the force maintains order. This is partially because Regha Alphas are but few and humans are many, and partly because mayors enjoy keeping some form of authority. In reality, all the authority is with Hunger, who reigns over us all, his people in all the top places of all the powerful countries.

The mayor and Hunger settle on her police, and when they launch into the details, I interrupt. “Excuse me,” I say, and they both stare at me. “You’re going after my aunt and my cousin, who have nothing do with my uncle’s business dealings or any of his perceived wrongdoings.”

“Perceived is an interesting choice of words,” Hunger says.

“How do you know they have nothing do with Betaren?” the mayor asks.

“I just do, okay? My aunt is the nicest woman you’ll ever meet, and my cousin is too lazy to be doing anything on a grand scale.” Kevin is thirty-seven, lives with his parents, and showers on national holidays. The least ambitious person I know.

“Would you like to extend them your protection?” Hunger asks.

I have no idea what this means. “Yes.”

He smiles, eyes positively glowing with excitement. “Dismissed,” he says.

The mayor lingers for a moment, then stuffs the portable hologram in her purse and leaves without a word.

The prince’s expression softens, and he lowers his armor. “Come to me.”

I hate when he says that. “Say the magic word, boss.” I look at him above the rim of my coffee cup. Caffeine is the best, and I take a nice big sip.

“Pussy.”

I choke.

My cheeks blow up as my mouth holds the coffee. My eyes water from the effort not to snort, but I lose the battle, and liquid enters my nasal channel. I bend and cough coffee all over the floor, one hand outstretched, tapping the workstation, looking for the tissue box. Got it. I grab the box and wipe my face, then sit back up, swallowing.

The prince stares. “Are you well, Omega?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Come to me.”

Forget magic words. I move toward him, and he taps the metal desktop. I sit on the desk and pick up the paper. LADY IN WHITE is the title above the picture of Hunger and me on Junior. It’s not a bad picture of me—thank God for that—but still, my face is all over every newspaper in the country and beyond. Sighing, I drop the paper.

“What?” he asks and picks up my foot. He puts it on his thigh. He gets my other foot and does the same, right hand slowly traveling up my skirt.

“I don’t think our relationship is appropriate,” I say. Heat gathers at the bottom of my belly.

“What relationship is that?”

“Boss and his assistant.”

“Personal assistant. You tend to all my needs.”

“I don’t think you know what PA means.”

“Oh, I know. I don’t think you do, but that’s okay. I’m happy to show you.” He taps his com unit. “Tamika girl, privacy, please.”

“So youdosay the magic word.”

“Only on Wednesdays.”

He’s rubbing my ankles and calves. My toes curl, and I scoot closer to him, sitting right at the edge. The prince pulls up my skirt, glances down, and reaches for my core.

I snap my knees together, trapping his hand. “What are you doing?”

“Going to stroke your pussy. What else would I be doing?”

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