Page 27 of Pack Choice

It’s not the first time.

Like I said, broken goods.

7

Molly

Mister Military clamsright up after that and I can’t make him tell me anything else despite my best efforts. He goes from what I suspect was the closest this dude ever comes to flirting to shutting down completely, withdrawing into himself and adopting that stern military pose once more, glaring at the sandwich man who wants to give me my sandwich for free, and insisting we sit at a table far away from anyone else for safety reasons.

After exhausting all the ways I can think of to make him explain why he doesn’t have a pack, I opt for a change of subject. It’s better than sitting in silence while we both munch on sandwiches, me trying not to notice how plump his lips look or how massively his biceps bulge.

“So, what was this exciting assignment you were on before this boring snoozefest?” He gives me a hard look and takes a large bite of his sandwich. “Don’t tell me, you’re not at liberty to say.”

He chews and swallows. “I was in South America.”

My ears perk up. “South America?” I’ve always wanted to travel. But growing up, dad always had too much work on, then mom got sick and now, well, I can’t see Axel and Angel ever letting me leave the city, let alone board a plane. “Where?”

“Columbia.”

“Columbia,” I say wistfully. “I’ve heard it’s beautiful.”

“There wasn’t a lot of time for sight-seeing.”

“Because you were …” I roll my hand through the air. “Oh, come on, surely you can tell me a little something. Otherwise I am going to choose to believe you were simply helping old ladies cross roads and other unimpressive stuff.”

He snorts. “We were attempting to track down some criminals.”

“Did you succeed?”

He shakes his head and takes another bite of his sandwich before I can ask him any more.

“It sounds exciting,” I say with that same wistfulness.

“You say that like you’re craving excitement. But excitement isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

I lower my sandwich and shake my finger at him. “Don’t give me that bullshit. You joined the army. Then chose to work for Silver. You wouldn’t have done either of those things if you didn’t enjoy a bit of excitement.”

His eyes crease ever so slightly and the corner of his mouth twitches in what I think is the closest thing I’m going to get to a smile from this alpha. I take another bite of my sandwich, considering him. I wonder what he looks like when he does smile. I wonder if he ever does. I decide I’m going to make it my mission to ensure he does.

“Why did you leave the army?”

That trace of a smile vanishes immediately, and his face hardens.

“It was time.”

And that is another mission I set myself. I’m going to make him smile. I’m going to learn why he left the army. And I’m going to find out why he doesn’t have a pack.

* * *

The escalator rideup to the office is as excruciating as it was last time. The man’s scent is so good. Unusual but good. I’ve just gorged myself on a sandwich. Yet his scent has me craving warm bread with melted butter. A scent that seems especially designed for an omega with a baking addiction. I already found the aroma of bread one of the best there is in the world. Signaling home and warmth, a full belly and all the things that come with that.

But to have that smell attached to an actual human? To an alpha human. To a six foot five alpha human with muscles on his muscles. Well, that is just darn cruel.

I keep my eyes trained ahead and try not to breathe. The man’s scent may seem to have been designed entirely for me, but the man himself wasn’t. Another lone wolf. I’ve met maybe one other alpha who lives that way in my entire life and now, wham, two in a matter of weeks.

Just my luck. Just my shitty luck.

But I’m not going to dwell on it. So maybe I won’t find my forever pack like every other omega around me. It doesn’t matter. I’m here, standing in this elevator because I’m going to forge my own path, a different one. Not every omega needs a pack. I can be just as happy with my career, my role as an aunty and my future collection of cats.