Page 100 of Pack Rivals, Part One

"Coast is clear. You first."

I step back out into the ballroom, my emotions all a tumble. I miss the feel of his arms already. I want more of those kisses. But I also feel relief. Relief that I have more time to sort through my emotions. Because it's not only my body that's falling for these men, my heart is too, and eventually I'm going to have to choose between them.

22

Axel

"Where's Bea?"I ask Connor as he strolls towards me. The last time I saw her, Connor was leading her onto the dancefloor. Now, he's returning alone.

"I was hoping she was with you," he says, eyes scanning the room.

Nate thumps our packmate on the shoulder. "You let her out of your sight. In that dress. Are you insane, man?"

"It was complicated," Connor says, squaring up to Nate. I don't need them squabbling right now. Not when our omega is missing in a room full of alphas, looking and smelling like sex on legs. Fuck, whose bright idea was it to bring her here in the first place and advertise to every other alpha in town what a fucking catch she is? Yeah, Nate's.

"Quit it," I snap at Nate. "What do you mean?" I say to Connor.

"Melody," Connor explains. We all sigh. That explains it. "Only just managed to shake her off."

Nate mutters something under his breath but I ignore him.

"We'd better find Bea, before some creep does," I say. "Let's split up. Connor bathrooms, Nate hallways, and I'll search the ballroom."

We set off in opposite directions, me sweeping the ballroom methodically, circulating clockwise and then through the middle, checking the dance floor, the bar and all the tables. No sign of her anywhere.

Nausea sloshes in my stomach and visions of some shithead dragging her away flashes in my mind.

If anyone lays a finger on her, they are going to wish they were never born. I'll fucking pluck their eyes from their sockets simply for looking at her.

The others haven't returned so with nothing better to do, I search the ballroom again, ignoring all the people who try to stop me to talk, ignoring all the flirty eyes of the numerous omegas. She's still not here. Gone. Vanished.

And then all of a sudden, as if she's been conjured out of thin air, she is. Standing near a table, her eyes searching the room.

I sprint her way, knocking against people as I do, not caring about the drinks that get spilled or the curse words that get yelled.

"Bea." I skid to a halt by her side, resting my hands on her shoulders. "Are you all right?"

"Erm, yes," she says, her cheeks all flustered, her pupils blown wide, her scent … her scent wet.

"What happened? I couldn't find you anywhere."

"Oh, nothing, I just needed some air, so I stepped outside."

"I've told you numerous times, that it isn't–"

"Safe, yes, I know, I know." She musters up a smile, then it falters on her lips. "You brought me here under false pretenses."

"Huh?" I mutter. Sometimes being with this woman results in whiplash the way she darts from one topic of conversation to the next. She's worse than Nate.

"There's no French deal is there? No Martins, either."

"I … Bea … I …" I stroke my hands down her arms and decide I'm better off confessing to the truth. "No, there isn't."

Creases line her forehead. "You lied."

"I did."

"Why?"

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