Page 5 of Claiming the Pack's Omega
“What’re you doing in here?” He asks, his eyes dark with knowing.
With the way my perfume swirls around us, my thoughts on him might as well be projecting on the wall in HD definition.
“Maybe I just wanted to seetheObsidian up close and personal,” I shrug.
He lets out a soft hum at my answer. What is it with this man and my body’s reaction to the noises he makes?
“As much as I may want to believe that, something tells me that’s not the full story. If you’d wanted to talk to me, you could’ve done so before tonight. That other ring girl has.”
Ah, Lulu. So she has been talking to him.
I wonder why that makes the omega side of me bristle.
“Well, I didn’t say I wanted to talk to you,” I say, letting my eyes really soak him all in.
The hard planes of his muscled abs. The faint stretch marks along his bicep and his pecs, probably from when he put on the muscle he’s carrying. The way his hands flex at his sides when he sees how I’m looking at him.
Hot.
“I said I wanted to see you up close and personal,” I murmur.
He extends his arms out to his sides as if inviting me to take in my fill.
“Like what you see?”
He’s full-on grinning now and, oh my god, I’m such a goner.
I roll my eyes.
“You know damn well what my answer to that is.”
He chuckles as he crosses his arms over his chest, making his muscles flex.
“You’re right, I do know. Your perfume is giving you away. What it’s not giving away is what you’re doing in here tonight.”
I tap my fingers against my arm. To the outside eye, it would probably look like a nervous tic, but I’d be the last person to admit that the alpha in front of me actually has the power to make me nervous.
“I’ve seen you before,” he says, his voice low. “And I don’t get the impression you, you know, do this sort of thing.”
“What sort of thing do you think I’m in here doing?”
He runs a hand over his head, glancing away from me and up at the ceiling. “Well—I don’t know—a before-match party-favor? Warm-up? I don’t know what to call it.”
I raise an eyebrow. For a guy who seems so intense, so fierce in the ring, he seems almost sheepish right now, talking about getting sucked off before a match.
My eyes narrow and my jaw ticks and before I know it, my big mouth is opening and saying something stupid.
“Did Lulu offer that to you?”
His hand scrubs down over his face. All it does is draw my eyes to his jaw. His stupidly sharp, handsome jaw.
“Yeah, but I turned her down. It’s—it’s not my sort of thing.”
“Well, it’s normally not my sort of thing either, if I can help it” I shrug.
“Oh,” he blinks down at me, his brows drawing down again like he’s trying to figure me out.
Something tells me that I should just be honest about why I’m here. Or as honest as I can be.
