Page 30 of Pack Choice

“Working for me,” Colten says sternly, resting his hand on River’s shoulder.

“And her brothers have assigned me to watch over her,” Ford adds, stepping around them both to flank my side.

“Well aren’t you the lucky ones,” River says, as Ford takes my arm and pulls me out towards the door. I peek back at River as I’m tugged through the doorway.

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing more of you, little Stormgate,” he says with a wink that has me knowing exactly why so many women tumble into his bed.

8

River

“You won’t be,”Colten says, closing the door behind the retreating omega and her brickhouse of a bodyguard.

“I won’t be?” I say innocently, jumping up to sit on the edge of the table and swinging my legs.

“Can’t you use a chair like every normal human being?” Colt says, running his hands through his hair in the way he does when he’s rattled.

I sniff the air. The scent of the omega lingers like a cock tease. Spicy as hell. Fucking unique. I’ve never smelled an omega like that before. Never had one look so close to slapping me before either.

I’ve seen that look plenty – not that anyone has ever been brave enough to try it. I’ve never seen it on an omega, though.

This one is different.

“Why won’t I be seeing her?” I ask.

“Did you hear me already? She’s a Stormgate. You really want to go messing with their little sister? It won’t matter who you are. There probably wouldn’t be any identifying features left in your remains if you played with their little sister.”

“And yet you’re considering it,” I say, as he takes a seat at the board table and adjusts his collar. Another of his tells. Definitely rattled.

It takes a lot to rattle Colten. I should know. I’ve been trying most of my life.

Hey, it’s fun.

“Are we doing this meeting or not?” He picks up the papers resting on the table and starts to flick through them.

I shrug. “We can. Or we can talk about the sweet piece of ass you have working for you. The one you don’t want me to be seeing. Want to tell me how she ended up in your lap?”

Colt lowers the papers. “No. I want you to run me through all the crap you’ve been rolling around in over the last six months that may come back to bite you. I want you to tell me about all the things I will need to be making go away. All the stories I’ll need to kill.”

I rest my hand against my chest. “Colt, I’m hurt.”

Colt snorts. We’ve been doing this together long enough – firstly at his old firm back in New York City, now here in Rockview – to know that I’m always generating enough bullshit to keep him busy.

Sal, owner of Fulmine, wanted me to use his firm. But Colt has always been the one I trust. It was him or no one. And with the amount of stories my misdemeanors generated in the first few months of racing, I was always going to need someone.

“Actually,” I say, picking up the bottle the omega was just handling, “I’ve been a good boy.” Colt snorts again and I chuckle. “I have. Not much to report.”

“You’re getting old.”

We both are. We’ll both be hitting 30 this year.

“Yeah, I am. Maybe it’s about time I settled down. Maybe with an omega like your assistant.”

Colt’s brow furrows. He likes her.

“You fucked her yet?” I ask.

“Be more respectful, buddy,” he mutters.