Page 8 of Damaged Princess

She gives me a look indicating I should shut the hell up. Or possibly toss myself off a cliff.

I smirk.

Literally, I live for this shit.

"Not with food anyway. I can think of plenty of circumstances where double dipping is completely acceptable." I drop my take-out container on my lap. "And a whole lot of fun."

Anastasia blushes. Her pale skin betrays her embarrassment. My cock hardens almost painfully. I stretch to grab my beer to hide the fact I'm into Vik's omega.

"You're not only a giant but also a humongous pain in the ass, Wolfe Alexander." Anastasia grins, nodding to my hand wrapped around my beer. "Whenever I hold one of those, my hand barely wraps around it."

I chuckle. It's difficult, but I manage to hold back the urge to tell her those tiny hands of hers wouldn't be able to wrap all the way around my cock either.

She stares at my hands, her focus on the black ring on my middle finger. I clear my throat, but she doesn't glance away.

"Do you have a hand fetish? Is that a thing? I know some guys really dig a woman's feet. Is it a chick thing to sexualize a guy's hand?" I shove a quesadilla into my mouth and nod to the food. "There's a shit-ton. Go on, help yourself."

She eyes the greasy food and cringes. "That's a stomach ache waiting to happen. I'm good, but thank you for the offer."

I frown as my throat makes a weird humming sound. "Omegas aren't meant to diet or restrict calories. Especially right before a heat."

"Freaking Viktor," she mutters, shaking her head. "I'm sure this has something to do with him."

"Nah, dollface." I frown. "This is all on me. I've got a super-fast metabolism so I know it's possible for some people to eat whatever they want and stay slender, but I've seen you at every meal today and you haven't really eaten, not once."

"Yes, I know that," she says, giving me a smile that indicates I should shut the fuck up. "I'd really love it if a man never again felt the need to tell me what I should or shouldn't eat. Literally, I could go the rest of my life happy if the subject could just drop."

She's got a point there. It's not technically my business, not at fucking all. But it's concerning as hell and it's pushing my Dom buttons.

If I had to guess, I'd say she's underweight for an omega based on her height.

Omega biology is set up to mass produce little baby alphas and omegas. If an omega doesn't eat properly their system will literally leach nutrients from their bones and organs to prepare for having babies. I'm actually pretty sure it's like that with all pregnant chicks.

It's weird as fuck that I'm even considering this. I don't know if I ever want kids.

Hell, maybe she doesn't either. But no matter what, she should look after herself so she doesn't have miserable consequences down the road.

A shiver runs through my system recalling how easily my grandma broke her hip because of osteoporosis. Which the doctor blamed on the fact she didn't take care of herself when she was younger.

"You don't seem to be concerned with taking care of yourself. It's one of those things that triggers an alpha's impulses. So eat something, or we might just have to see if I can't take a turn as a Daddy Dom for the night," I say, smirking to play off the fact I'm slightly uncomfortable with the role of caregiver.

She blinks repeatedly. Her head tilts as she squints at me.

Yeah, don't worry, sweetheart. I'm as confused by my behavior as you are.

"First of all, no one gives a shit if I'm healthy," she snaps. "In fact, on more than one occasion, my father has demanded I cut back on calories because, in his words, 'I was getting a little too round.'"

"Jesus fucking Christ," I growl. "Your dad is a royal piece of shit."

Anastasia laughs mirthlessly and glances away. I've only heard a little bit from Cas and Vik about her father, but it's pretty clear he's a garbage parent.

Now definitely isn't the time to get into all that. I'm here to keep her busy and make sure she doesn't get into trouble while Vik is at the gym, that's it.

Getting involved in her shit isn't my place.

"You okay over there?" I ask, trying to break the awkward silence.

She nods, pulling her hand up so she can pick at her polish.

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