Page 8 of Carmichael's Omega

I look at him closely. Twitchy, eyes shifting away from mine, shoulders too tense for a kid on pot, and know he's lying. "Where is she, Nico?"

He shifts, shoulders slumping a little more. His hands are shaking, and as I watch, he takes a hit of the blunt still burning on the coffee table. His hands stop shaking, and I feel a curl of fear in my gut. What is really in all this smoke?

"Nico?"

"With whatever hook-up she has tonight."

"Who?" I demand an answer. I don't need this shit.

"Miguel," Nico mumbles.

I swear, colorfully. "A mated male?" I snarl.

Nico glares at me. "Coming from you, that's rich. Where's your slut of the day,Jefe?" he spits.

My wolf curls his lip, exposing his fangs in a threat. No one calls my Cassidy a slut.

Chale. Get a grip, Carm. She can't be the only female on my mind, even if she is. Still, the unintended insult burns, making my wolf itch and growl. She is my female. My mate. And she is no slut.

It's on the tip of my tongue to tell Nico that I found her, to spill the truth, and share the burden with someone other than Rique. Nico, how will he feel knowing that his older brother and alphason is mated to an omega?

I watch him take another drag of the blunt, then close his eyes and lean his head back against the couch.

Silently, I turn and stalk to my room.

Why did I come home this weekend?

---

I wake up with Cassidy's name on my lips. Gasping, I sit up, disoriented, to the sound of low moans and the thud of the bed next to my room hitting the wall.

At first, the sound of Nico getting his rocks off in the room next to mine mixes with the knocking on the door. When my head clears enough, I realize that someone is hammering to get inside.

"Fuck," I grunt, tossing the sheets to the side and striding to the door.

"Alphason," the same border patrol from earlier greets me. "Drug runners were spotted crossing our southern border, heading northeast."

"Pinche pendejos.Fuck these dumb shits." I push past the wolf aggressively. "Who do we have patrolling?"

"José and Rodrigo."

"How many dealers spotted?"

"Four. On foot."

"Armed?"

"Nothing spotted."

I nod grimly. "Assume two guns per man. Knives too."

The wolf nods.

Once outside, we both shift onto paws. I let my wolf run, glad we had a little sleep before being asked to track down drug runners.

The fur in the LoboGris tends to run dark. We blend effortlessly with the desert night. Even on a full moon, we look like nothing more than shadows. Shadows that will eat your flesh and chew your bones.

We slow when we catch the scent. Two other wolves join us. José and Rodrigo. The humans are making it easy, staying together, moving slowly in the dark.

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