Page 53 of Pack Rivals, Part One

As we draw closer, it's clear the men are drunk and probably high too, the air around them thick with alcohol, their words slurring from their lips, their eyes dazed. It makes them both less and more dangerous. Easier to take out; harder to predict.

The omega's eyes are wide with alarm, her scent buzzing with panic. The man in front reaches as if to grab her chin and she ducks away.

"Sweetheart," Axel says, barging the man standing at her side out of the way. "You're here." He wraps his arm around her shoulder and kisses her soft cheek. Relief floods her face.

"You know these dudes?" the man blocking her way asks. His voice squeaky like an unoiled wheel.

"Yes," I tell him, glaring and cracking my knuckles. "We're her date."

For a moment tension hangs in the air, while we wait to see what this pair of losers are going to do next. Fight or flee?

They're obviously more sensible than they look because they choose the latter.

"Enjoy yourselves," the first says, bowing slightly like we're royalty and then without another word, they're slinking away.

Bea lets out a long puff of air. "Thank you."

"No problem," Axel says, "but this is why I wanted to pick you up. Too many creeps around, sweetheart."

"Yeah." Her gaze flicks the way of the two men, now distant figures. "I'm not used to it, I guess. Back home, I knew everyone."

"City's too big for that," Nate says, "and full of assholes." He grins and holds out his hand. "I'm Nate."

"Bea." She shakes his hand and peers my way.

"He's Connor. Bit of a quiet one," Nate tells her. I scowl at him and shake her hand. "Until you get to know him, that is, then he won't shut up."

"You can talk," I say.

"I do know him," she says, staring at my face, her small hand still in mine.

"No," I confirm, "we've never met before."

"Connor Doyle."

I stare back at her, examining her face. "Yes, I was. I'm Connor York now, since we formed this pack." There's something familiar about her, nudging at the back of my consciousness, but I can't place it. I can't place her.

"You don't remember …"

I shake my head. The gesture causes another of those frowns to mark her pretty face and I want to remember. Shit, I want to remember.

"How?" I say. "How do we …"

Her cheeks flush and she shakes her head in embarrassment. "Oh it was such a long time ago, and we never knew each other." Her scent's reading all kinds of uncomfortable.

"You're from Taleswest?" She shakes her head. "Jamesport?" We moved around a lot when I was a kid. I barely remember all those places. But her face, her face is familiar.

"No."

"Come on," Axel says, registering the omega's discomfort, "over here."

He guides her over to the rug.

She stares down at the picnic all laid out. I think we did a pretty good job and I wait with bated breath for her reaction.

Will she stomp her sandalled foot and storm away? Will she fix a false smile to her face and lower herself gingerly to the ground? Or will she–

Frown?

---