Page 11 of Hunting Their Omega

She darted out of range, crashed into Bishop’s chest, and pushed herself off him as well. Wynn growled in annoyance and lunged toward her, trying to claim the collar, and she threw a handful of dirt in his face.

“Ah,” he yelled, his hands shooting to his eyes.

That had to sting.

She pushed herself to her feet and limped back a few steps. Bishop and I jumped up, spreading out to surround her. Our predicament dawned on us all at once. She wasn’t ours until we had that collar, and it didn’t look like she was willing to give it up.

Bishop, ever the Beta, attempted to talk her down. “Hey, look, we aren’t going to hurt you. You have my word.”

“And why should I trust your word?” she snapped.

He furrowed his brow but tried again. “Maybe we just got off on the wrong foot. I’m Bishop.” He pointed to me and said, “That’s Alaric.” He waved at a red-eyed Wynn, and she curled her lip. I could have sworn I saw intrigue in his eyes. “And that is Wynn. We’re from the Hidden Creek pack.”

Her gaze moved between us, watching how we shifted into formation around her. “If you think that means anything to me, you’re out of luck.”

I rolled her words around my mind, deciphering the tidbit of knowledge. So it was true that Omegas didn’t know anything about the sanctioned packs.

“What’s your name?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

She turned her beautiful, glowing gaze toward me, and I almost groaned. For a moment, I didn’t think she was going to answer, but she surprised me when she said, “Isolde.”

A chorus of satisfied growls poured from our chests, our wolves in agreement. The bond between us shivered with pleasure and hunger. A beat drummed at the base of my skull, and my cock hardened.

“Isolde,” I purred, “we need to take that collar. Without it, you’re still in the game.”

Her eyes widened as indecision held her captive. Finally, her mouth settled in a thin line, her elegant jaw setting in determination. “No.”

“No?” Wynn asked, taking a step forward. The Alpha in him bristled at the idea of a challenge.

Bishop held out a hand to stop him from advancing further. Wynn stopped, but his icy gaze remained fixed on the collar around her throat.

“You do realize we caught you, right?” Bishop said. “We’re your mates, and you’re ours. The game has ended.”

“Maybe,” she replied, shuffling backward.

She wasn’t going to come without a fight—that much was clear. But why? What else could she hope to gain if not mates and a pack? Her words ran through my mind.

I didn’t choose anything.

It wasn’t the words themselves; it was the meaning behind them. She wasn’t talking about the Hunt. She was talking about something more. But the fact of the matter was that if we didn’t secure her collar, another unit could take her from us.

My wolf snarled.

No one touches our mate. Claim her now.

What do you think we’re trying to do?I snapped.

Not good enough, my wolf declared.Mark her. Fill her with our pups so everyone will know who she belongs to.

I was inclined to side with my wolf. The thought of Isolde heavy with our pup made me harder than I’d ever been.

I scanned the clearing, measuring her distance from the river. Bishop glanced my way, and I gave him an imperceptible nod. If Isolde wouldn’t listen to reason, we’d have to prove ourselves to her after the Hunt. I pushed down the guilt and reminded myself that she would only be safe once we had her in Hidden Creek, and I would do whatever it took to get her there, even if it meant holding her down and cutting the damn collar off myself.

Bishop moved so quickly that she barely had time to gasp. Snaking one hand around her waist, he pulled her flush to his chest. She clawed at his arm, but he pinned her wrists in front of her. She writhed and kicked, flashing her dripping sex with each wild movement.

Goddess, that tunic was all she was wearing.

“Let me go, you big gorilla,” she shouted.

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