Page 30 of Carmichael's Omega

"You scent of a male,Nino. Your mate?" he asks me.

"No," I say it a little too harshly, internally shuddering. Dylan. I quell the sickness rising in my gut. Don't think about him, Matthew.

Rique looks me over. "You're dressed like, ah, what is the word for it?"

"Nicely?" Miranda asks in a wry tone.

Rique winks at her again. He's wearing a black t-shirt with a liquor company logo on it and a pair of dark jeans with rips on the hems and faded patches at the pockets. They're molded to his muscular, warrior thighs in that natural way that tells me he's worn them a thousand times before. They could be hundred-dollar designer jeans, but I have a feeling that they're authentically old and worn. His boots are nondescript, but they look heavy, with metal embedded in the soles and laces that have seen better days.

I have a light blue collared shirt on, with all but the top button done up. My jeans are tight on purpose, and, yes, I ironed them. My white sneakers are clean. They could be described as spotless. I like my clothes.

A little desperate to escape the two pairs of eyes pursuing my outfit, I look at my watch. I hear Rique snicker a little.

"Preppy, that's the word," Rique snaps his fingers. "Like a little businessman,si?" He sits first, sprawling out on a couch and patting the seat next to him with an expectant look at Miranda.

She just quirks an eyebrow before sitting opposite him. I expect him to be offended, but he just grins and leans forward, his knees knocking into hers. She doesn't move hers, and he smiles.

I sit down on the other couch and stare at them, fascinated by the byplay. Rique is a wolf and pursues her with the tenacity of a predator. All the while, Miranda evades him neatly, but I see the appreciation in her eyes whenever she looks at him.

"So," I clear my throat, "what do you two have planned? I can wait by myself."

"Just a ride," Rique says. His gaze is hot as it travels up and down Miranda. I blush again. I'm pretty sure he doesn't just mean a ride on his motorcycle.

"A picnic, but Rique won't say that word," Miranda corrects him.

"I'm not entirelyun mandilón, Bella," he scoffs.

"No one is questioning your masculinity, Rique," Miranda scoffs.

"No? I think you are," he leans forward, challenging her.

She leans towards him, her lips only inches from his. "How do you say, idiot, in Spanish, Rique?"

"Mi alma," he croons, "call me that,Bella."

An almost cruel smile crosses her face. "Liar," she says softly.

"Mattie!" the squeal breaks them apart. They both jump, leaning away from each other abruptly, the smirks falling back into cool disinterest in both of them. My wolf twitches from wanting to matchmake these two. Oh, it would be so much fun.

"Oh, Miranda and Rique, how are you?" Cassidy races into the room, breathless, hair falling out of its ponytail. Her sundress is creased rumpled, and her cheeks are bright pink. She must have run here when I sent her that text.

Rique eyes her sharply. He inhales, then a slow, lazy grin crosses his face. Holy cowballs, he's gorgeous. "Very well, Cassidy," he says.

I stand up and catch my sister in my arms when she throws herself at me, whirling her in a circle.

"Hey, no fair!" Cassidy pouts. She squeezes my arms, "your muscles got bigger."

Because I hang out at the gym to avoid Dylan, I want to say. And, maybe, I'll be strong enough to protect myself... one day.

"You're just a wittle, bitty girl," I respond with a grin. Sure enough, it gets the response I wanted.

"I am not little, Matthew Hunter!"

I laugh and put her down, then hunch over so that the top of my head is level with hers. "You're thiiis big- oof!" I laugh harder when my sister starts to tickle my sides.

"Take it back!" she hollers, laughing herself.

We both fall over to the ground. When we stop laughing, Cassidy looks at me with a soft smile. "I missed you so much."

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