Page 13 of Pack Rivals, Part One

"Naw Creek?" I repeat. Where the hell is that?

"Isn't that outside the city?" her friend asks, confused.

"Oh yeah." The little thing glides her fingers through long waves of hair, and I imagine doing the same. "I don't live there anymore." She sways on her feet, and I reach out to grab her elbow and stop her falling. Her friend scowls at me but I don't let go, hurrying them both along the hallways. This omega's scent is all screwed up. She doesn't smell like she's in heat, but she sure as hell is acting like she's nearing one. Unless she's drunk.

"Did you drink?" I ask, my tone angry.

Her eyes go all wide and doe-like and she peers up at me. "No, but I feel really out of it. Maybe I'm sick."

I shake my head. I don't understand why she's keeping up the pretense that she is a beta, or why she came to this party on the verge of a heat. Was she hoping to find an alpha? Because, sweet thing, all you had to do was ask.

"Where do you live? We need to get you home."

She reels off an address near the city center – the run-down side of town, which both surprises me and doesn't. Omegas don't live in places like that. Most omegas belong to the rich families in the penthouses and the mansions. Those that don't come from money, get snapped up by wealthy packs pretty quick and live the rest of their lives in the lap of luxury. It's why so many betas are desperate to become omegas. Why there's some shady science shit going on to find out if you can turn a beta into an omega. Is that what happened to this girl?

I'm going to need to talk to her. Once she's capable of it.

My black SUV with the bullet-proof windows is parked near the back entrance. I wasn't going to let some concierge park it miles away from the hotel. In my line of work, you can't help but form a getaway plan. Even when it's just a charity event in a ballroom.

I open the back door and help the little thing up and into the back seat. Then I reach over her to buckle her in, and she makes some ridiculously adorable mewling sound and strokes her palms down my chest. I don't think she even knows what she's doing. Her friend climbs into the seat beside her and glares at me as I take the omega's hands in mine and return them to her lap – her lap where I would kill to rest my head right now.

"Did your alphas know you were so close to your heat?" I can't understand why the fuck the men would let their omega out smelling like this, acting like this.

She shakes her head and blinks. "I don't have an alpha."

My stomach does a somersault and my heart pounds against my ribcage. She doesn't have an alpha. How can a sweet little omega like this not have an alpha? How can she be available?

"And I'm not an omega."

I scoff and slam the door. She's either delusional or lying for some reason I cannot fathom.

Sliding into the front seat, I rev the engine and set off across the dark city. Ten minutes into our ride, I peer at the two women in the rear-view mirror. The omega has curled up on her seat and has fallen asleep, her arms tucked around a sweater of mine I threw in the back earlier today.

I catch the eye of the omega's friend.

"You know her well?"

She shakes her head. "We only met tonight."

"Hmmm."

"But I don't think she's lying, you know."

"About which bit?"

"The omega bit, I guess. She didn't smell like this when she first arrived this evening. And she seemed pretty clueless in general about omegas and alphas."

"It could be an act. And she could have been using blockers that wore off as the night progressed."

The other woman shrugs and looks out the window. "Alicia's going to cut my pay for the hours I've missed."

"No, she won't. I'll talk to her." I flick the indicator on and swing us around a left turning. "It was a nice thing to do."

"She seems nice. And there aren't that many nice people in this city."

Amen to that.

She smoothes her hand along the omega's face. "She's boiling hot."

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