Page 49 of Pack Rivals, Part One

Her pupils blow even wider and I've caught her interest now. "What do you mean?" she asks.

"I can't lie, sweetheart. I want an omega who does what I say in the bedroom." I lean forward, lowering my voice. "Who'll part her thighs and slick all over my face when I ask her to." A tiny, hardly discernible moan drifts from her lips. "But I don't want no slave. None of us do. We want someone we can make happy and who'll make us happy in return. If letting her turn circles on a trapeze every night warms her heart, or bubbling test tubes in a lab, then so be it."

She doesn't look like she quite believes me, shaking her head as if trying to drag herself from a trance. She takes another sip of water, condensation sliding down the outside of her glass and dripping onto the table cloth.

"What makes you happy, Bea?"

She lowers her glass. "Honestly, I don't know anymore. My life got turned upside down – and that was before this whole omega revelation. And now I have no idea. What I thought made me happy," she chews on her lip, "was all an illusion, a big-ass lie. I guess I need to figure things out again."

"I think we could make you happy," Hardy says with a smirk and mischief dancing in his eyes. He leans in to whisper in her ear, "I'd certainly have fun trying."

The little thing looks like she might melt in her chair, but then with clear determination, she straightens her spine and exhales through her mouth.

"I've been hurt – fooled," she says, glaring at Hardy, "before. I'm not prepared to be some pack's plaything."

This girl. She has no idea. Plaything? I think conceding to be our plaything is exactly what she needs.

"Not our intention," Silver says, smoothing his hand down her arm as our eggs are delivered to the table and changing the conversation to talk about the boats sailing across the ocean. Casually, he mentions our boat and suggests we take her out next weekend.

It seems an eternity away.

12

Bea

Slow,I promised myself, slow.

I promised myself that this time I would not be swayed by some smooth talking and sharp suits. Fat chance.

I'm a sucker, a sucker for it all. The view, the food, the smell of the ocean. It's all dazzling. Throw in the three hot alphas crowding around this table, each struggling to fit their huge bodies into the tiny restaurant – throw in their scents too like the most potent of aphrodisiacs messing with my mind – and I am toast.

Done. Cooked. Burned to a crisp.

I try to hang on to my reason and my good sense. These are three rich men with looks that could charm the habit off a nun. They've been single and living the good life for a decade. They've no intention of settling down. No intention of making me anything but a plaything. A distraction for a short period of time. Before they discard me to one side.

It's hard to remember all that though, especially when I find myself relaxing easily in their company, listening as they talk light heartedly among themselves, telling me about a disastrous trip they took to Vegas last month.

"Have you ever been to Vegas, sweetheart?" Angel asks me, his eyes landing on mine.

Eyes the color of silver, of moonlight, of the stars. Eyes the color of Axel's.

The similarity is uncanny, but then maybe that's yet another piece of information about omegas and alphas I'm yet to learn. All these alphas possess eyes that seem to have a power of their own. A power to capture your attention, to draw you in and never let you go.

Perhaps it isn't so unusual for two alphas to have eyes such a vivid and unusual color. Maybe it's a common occurrence among alphas.

"Vegas? No. Until this week, the only place I'd been beside Naw Creek was the nearest town, and then I'd only been there twice."

"You never went to LA or New York? To Hawaii or the Caribbean?"

"Nope, never."

"Shit, we need to rectify that, sweetheart. Where would you like us to take you?"

I shake my head. They've already offered to take me out on their yacht, to purchase me front row tickets at the next Rockers game and now they're offering to take me away.

Karl could barely be bothered to open the fridge door and pass me a can of coke.

"Come on," Silver says, tossing a wad of cash on the table that has my eyes popping from their sockets. "Let's go for a stroll along the waterfront."

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