Page 24 of Pack Choice

I shake my head and she huffs in exasperation and returns to her screen.

I don’t need a book, or a paper. I suspect my phone will remain in my pocket all day. I’m entirely content sitting and watching the omega.

Because, God Almighty, is she pretty.

And not just pretty because I’ve been in the army for the last seven years and then male-only missions for Silver for the last half. No, the girl is stunning. Beautiful. I’ve been watching old men trade arms, I’ve been watching terrorists train in underground camps, I’ve been watching gangsters smuggle drugs. Ugly, cruel, sickening stuff.

This is the breath of fresh air I didn’t realize I even needed. A chance to cleanse my soul. To soak in the sunshine for a while – a man who usually slinks about in shadows.

I’m embracing this opportunity to feast my eyes on something beautiful for a change.

I lean back in my chair and stare.

I’d groaned and argued with Silver for twenty straight minutes when he put me on babysitting duty. I have never been one to sit still. I always have to be doing. Now, I’m considering this to be the best gig ever. Because I’m being paid to stare. No one can call me out on it. No one can call me a creep. It’s my job. Which means I get to sit here and soak up every part of her. Long golden hair I want to twist around my fist, doe-like eyes framed by long lashes, bee-stung lips and curves and curves and curves … so many curves.

She’s like a piece of art. Something that ought to be stared at and admired.

Then there’s the way those curves move. With a wiggle. With an actual wiggle. I don’t think the girl knows just how seductive that wiggle is. Every time she moves like that, I want to bite down hard on my fist and moan.

Fifteen minutes after she leaves his office, the boss comes marching out and heads towards the boardroom. I glare at him all the way across the open-plan space and he glares right back at me. There’s no need for either of us to say it. I can read his intentions and he can read mine. Heck, it’s obvious in both our scents.

We want the omega.

Neither of us is going to have her.

Him, because I won’t let him.

Me, because, as irresistible as this girl is, I’m a professional. It was made clear on the first day of my job. Hands off the assets. Not because you’ll be fired, but because Silver and the other members of the Stormgate pack will kick your ass.

I’m sure they’ll do more to my ass than kick it if I as much as place one finger on their baby sister. They’ll probably rip my ass right off and shove it down my throat.

I wouldn’t deserve anything less.

I grind my molars. Just my luck. The first omega who catches my interest in a long time is the one I can’t have.

Not that I’d expect she’d want me anyway. Not a girl like Molly Stormgate.

I’m damaged goods. Someone she’d be wise to stay away from. Luck hasn’t been kind to me.

She works solidly through the morning, oblivious to the other workers who drift into the office at about nine. Oblivious to the way they stare at her too, whispering behind their hands and making faces. I catch a few of their eyes and the looks I send them are enough to shut that behavior right down. I don’t like it though.

Are they like me? Suspecting there’s something brewing between their CEO and new assistant?

Or is it just the usual animosity omegas tend to stir up among the betas? It’s jealousy. Most omegas live like queens. Bonded to wealthy, powerful packs and living lives of luxury. What the betas forget is that it isn’t all of them. Those are the lucky ones. I’ve been on missions before to rescue omegas stolen by criminal gangs to work in brothels or to sell to less desirable packs.

It’s why I’m here guarding the Stormgate’s little sister. You never know who might take the opportunity to snatch an omega and make their fortune.

At twelve, I stand up, stretching, and approach Molly’s desk.

“Lunchtime,” I tell her.

“Is it?” she says, peering at her watch. “Urgh, I still have so much to do. He’s sent me a list as long as my arm and I’ve only checked off the first two.” She points to the screen, her face falling in a way that has my stomach lurching. I suspect I was right about the psycho part. He’s probably trying to break her. Not a chance.

“It can wait. You need to eat. You haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“I think I’ll have to skip lunch.”

“Omega,” I growl and her eyes flip up to mine, “I’ve been told to look after you.” I wasn’t told to make sure she ate, but I’m improvising. I’m sure it is what Silver would want.