Page 65 of Broken Omega

Frost lets out a sigh as Donnie chases after the girl.

“Any calls since we’ve been here?” he asks me.

I shake my head. The radio’s been silent.

“I’ll drive,” he tells me, before he gets out of the back.

I have a handful of seconds to compose myself, so I force myself to let go of the steering wheel and I tap my fingers off my wrists. It’s not exactly magic, but it helps to center me before I get out of the driver’s seat. I manage to pass the keys to Frost without my fingers shaking.

Then I get into the back and close the doors.

I don’t try to get another look at the girl.

As ashamed as I am to admit it, I hope we never see her again.

BROOKE

Why am I so fucking broken? I can’t believe I thought that guy might have felt what I did. Clearly, he’s not interested, and I’m having some kind of hormonal break-down now. Probably brought on by being stuck at the academy for so long without a mate.

Six damn years. Which makes me at least three years overdue for going into my first heat.

“Hey, Cherry,” the other guy from the ambulance calls out.

The one I barely met before I passed out for the second time.

I’m almost afraid to look. From what I noticed before I fainted, my body reacted exactly the same way to him as it did to his partner. So, apparently, I either have a serious thing for EMTs or I’m so starved for affection that I’m craving every new man I meet.

I turn, pressing my lips together and trying to stay calm.

I lose my breath the instant my eyes land on him. He’s big and tall, like Frost, but that’s where any comparison stops. He’s a little less sculpted. More toned than muscular. His skin is tanned, and I can see the edges of tattoos hidden under his shirt collar. Short, light brown hair. There’s a bump on his nose that makes me think he must have broken it in the past. Somehow that little flaw makes his killer smile even sexier. His bright blue eyes seem to sparkle up close like this. It’s kind of hard not to get lost in them.

He’s entirely as intoxicating as Frost, in completely different ways. His name badge reads ‘Stark.’

“Name’s Donnie, by the way,” he says, clearly noticing me noticing his badge.

I smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Donnie. I’m Brooke.”

“Brooke, huh?” he asks. “Sounds kind of hard. Cherry’s much sweeter.”

“Cherry’s a stripper name.”

He rolls his eyes. “That’s such a stereotype. Not all strippers have sweet names like Cherry and Candy.”

“And you would know that because you know so many strippers?”

He laughs, and it’s the huskiest, dirtiest sound I’ve heard in a long time.

“Well, I did a while back,” he admits, his eyes sparkling. “When I used to be one. My social circle has changed a little bit in the last few years.”

“You used to be a stripper?”

“I’d invite you to a private dance, but I’ve heard these academies are kind of hard to get out of.”

He’s flirting, for sure, and I can’t help smiling. It feels so easy.

“Yeah. I’m stuck here until my Alpha makes himself known, or until a cute paramedic or two can help me escape,” I admit, wondering if that’s really as crazy as it sounds.

“You want to leave now, we can leave right this second,” he promises, extending his hand.

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