Page 212 of The Omega Exchange: Omnibus

“Arm wrestle your packmate for that one,” he says, snorting a laugh. “But let me just grab my phone first. Nathan is never going to believe this. I’m going to need proof.”

“I changed my mind,” I grumble. “You’re absolutely going to need to find new employment.”

“Moody fucker,” Claude says, laughing. “So what do you intend to do? You better move fast. She hasn’t got a match yet, but even the few sniffs I got told me she’s extra sweet. Ten bucks says she’s got three different packs following her around the first time she makes it to one of the mixers.”

“No way,” Oliver groans, finally turning away from the wall. “We should lock her in the penthouse and never let her escape. Actually we should snatch her and head back to Virginia... Now. I can handle booking us a flight.”

I do a double take. Oliver is normally very passive, but we’ve all noticed he’s been acting increasingly feral the last year or so.

It’s strange considering he’s the youngest of us by nearly ten years.

I jab a finger at Claude. “Don’t say a word. He was obviously joking.”

“I’m not sure I was,” Oliver says, shoving his glasses up.

“For the love of God, shut up,” I growl.

My packmate doesn’t have that brain-to-mouth filter other human beings have. Most of the time, I love that about him because he’s one of the realest people you’ll ever meet.

Now is not one of those times.

“Yeah, that’s not mildly concerning or anything,” Claude says, glancing at something on his clipboard. “So when mytemporary boss is the one spewing one of the red flags...” He spins the file around. “Who exactly am I supposed to report it to?”

The list of statements and concerning behaviors taunts me as he taps a long finger against it.

“Oh, fuck off.” I swipe a hand over my face.

“That’s not an answer.” Claude chuckles. “You’re lucky I know you’re not normally feral. Don’t do anything you’re going to regret.”

“Come on,” I say, grabbing Oliver’s shoulder and leading him out. “We need to find Miller and put in a formal request for courting.”

“I think he’s on the verge of stabbing someone with that fork and butter knife,” Oliver mutters as we walk into the buffet. “Just for looking at her.”

“I know,” I chuckle giddily.

I’m fucking thirty-five years old. Nothing makes me giddy anymore. Except for the sight of Miller sharing one side of the table with the darling little omega.

The fact our normally jovial packmate is shooting murdery glares at anyone who glances in their general direction practically makes my dick hard. Fine, it’s been hard since I got a good sniff of her scent card. I can’t even bring myself to feel guilty about it because it’s biology.

“Hey,” Miller says, giving us a tense smile as we slide into the opposite side of the booth. He makes introductions and turns to offer Melody a bite of thinly sliced pot roast.

Oliver stares with his mouth hanging open. That’s a very good sign indeed. Not to mention Miller is the least likely totake initiative with a woman. I’d be less surprised to find Oli had charmed someone in a few hours than I am to see Melody so comfortable with Miller.

“You’re packmates?” Melody asks, pulling her hand up to cover her mouth as she finishes chewing her bite. She glances between the three of us.

“We are,” I agree, extending a hand over the table. “Nikolas.”

I wait, fully prepared for her to light up at the sound of my name. She doesn’t. There’s not even a hint of the nervous anticipation others get when they recognize me.

Melody places a soft hand in mine, and a slow grin crosses my face. I fight the urge to do something cliché such as bringing her wrist to my mouth to kiss.

I’m obviously reforming into a respectable adult.

She pulls her hand away and offers a hesitant smile. “It’s very nice to meet you,” she says, glancing between Oliver and me.

I don’t believe in love at first sight, but I’m developing an unhealthy addiction to the way the omega squirms in her seat when all three of us study her.

“Here,” Miller murmurs, lifting a bite of carrot in brown gravy and offering it to her.