Page 7 of Damaged Princess

"Yeah," Ana agrees. "I think it's time I see what's out there." She laughs uncomfortably. "I don't want to wait until the last minute like last time. According to my blood work, it could start as soon as the next few weeks."

"Christ," I say, pulling her closer to my chest.

It doesn't bother me a bit that she doesn't consider me an option.

Except, it really fucking does.

The entire idea behind The Exchange is setting up alphas and omegas who might not otherwise find each other. A small portion of the omegas that come into the program are looking to get out of a bad situation, but the rest are trying to find a match outside of their standard geographical region.

The Omega Protection Authority is run through the government, but the program has a lot of limitations that the private sector companies don't have.

The lodge has two sides of the business. One side is a full-service ski resort and mountain getaway. The other is The Exchange.

The Exchange side runs mixers, or meet and greets, at least five times a week. Some are activities, others are meals, some are snacks and drinks. This is an evening event.

I watch the room like a hawk. There are new packs around that must have come in within the last week because I've never seen them before. Ana has gone to a few events since Vik's been away.

I always keep an eye on her to make sure no assholes get too friendly. The omegas at The Exchange always have security if they aren't bonded.

Ana isn'ttechnicallya guest of The Exchange anymore because she's an employee of the lodge, but the owners made it clear we're all to keep an eye on her. There are too many unbonded alphas around to risk it.

Anastasia stays at the mixer for less than thirty minutes. She doesn't eat, she barely mingles, and my fury reaches dangerous proportions.

Vik is a friend, but he's in the wrong in this situation.

I'm rage-texting him for the twentieth time in seven minutes when Ana comes to my side.

"I think I'm done," she says. Her voice is completely monotone.

I motherfuckinghateit. At this point I'd even take the hellcat I met the first few days she was here.

"Are you hungry?" I ask, tossing an arm around her shoulder as we head out of the conference room.

"Nah, I'm just tired. I think I'll call it an early night."

"No way," I say, tilting her face to mine. "Come on, you're not quite at retirement home level yet. You can't call it a night before seven p.m. That's just depressing."

She shrugs.

Back when she first got here, she caused so much trouble that Vik didn't want to leave her alone even for the hour he went to work out.

It took a few tries before she warmed to me, but I eventually broke through the ice-queen demeanor.

"So, what are you in for?" I ask, bumping my shoulder against hers. It's the same question I ask her every time she gets stuck with me.

She scoffs.

"Wolfe whatever the hell your last name is, you can go spew your dude-bro energy elsewhere. Contrary to what Viki believes, I do not need a constant babysitter."

"Alexander," I say, swiping the long blond hair on top of my head back as I grab the take-out container off the coffee table. "Double A's for the win." She looks at me like I'm an idiot. "Both our last names start with A…"

Anastasia sighs, side-eyeing me like I'm the most frustrating human being she's ever been forced to spend time with. I get a twisted pleasure from knowing I'm annoying her. I'm not ashamed of the fact I'm a sadist.

"Ahh, I see. Not the talkative type. Not a problem. My grandma always said I never met a stranger. I can talk to anybody." I open my container and start poking around. "No scent match? I'm surprised. You smell like cherry-limeade. Sweet, but a little bit tangy or tart. Like you've got some spice in there to offset all that cherry sweetness."

Her head swivels in my direction. Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out.

I bite into a cheese stick and nod to the sauce. "I don't double dip. Or I won't because it's not polite to do when you're sharing."

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