Page 83 of Pack Rivals, Part One

"Can't help it. She's captivating."

Axel lets out a strangled sigh like he knows exactly what I'm talking about.

"Did you go talk to those squatters on the Rio site?"

I grin at him, spinning my blade and letting it clatter onto the desk.

"Yep, I spoke to them."

"And?" Axel asks, plunging his hands into his suit pockets.

"They're packing up today. They'll be gone by tonight."

"Good. Good job, man."

The corners of my mouth twitch in a genuine smile. I'm a sucker for praise from the head of our pack.

It's been that way forever. Ever since he picked me out in the school yard, the scrawny kid with an empty lunchbox, and gave me half his peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

He's a good guy, Axel. Even if he's a grumpy asshole most of the time.

"You wanna get lunch?" he asks me.

"Is lunch the omega?"

"Fuck, I wish," he mutters. "Her scent is driving me insane. My balls are the size of freaking basketballs at this stage."

"So what you gonna do about it?" I ask.

It was a genius move getting her to come work for us. But since then progress has stalled. The little thing hasn't fallen into our arms (or our bed) and taking it slow isn't getting us anywhere.

I hate slow.

Slow sucks.

Slow allows your enemies to catch up with you.

Slow allows them to beat the crap out of you.

Axel shrugs and drops down into a chair. "She's not acting like omegas usually do."

"What? You mean fawning the crap all over you? You mean flinging themselves at your feet?"

"Yeah," he says seriously.

"Ask her to the Macaby dinner."

Axel stares at me. "I don't think she'll come."

I pocket my knife and swing my feet from the desk. Then I slam my thumb on the intercom.

"Yes?" Mrs. Finch answers hesitantly. I've never, not once, used the intercom.

"Can you come in here, Mrs. Finch?" She mutters something incomprehensible. "Please," I add. A moment later she's standing in my office.

"What?" she says, hands on her hips.

She knows we're up to no good.

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