Page 59 of Your Wild Omega (The Feral Actress #2)

Chapter forty-six

Red

Brad ushers me into a restaurant with gold fixtures and cascading modern chandeliers shaped like lightning bolts. A four-person band plays gentle ballads in the main room.

“Upstairs is quieter,” he informs me, offering his hand because I must be a delicate puppy who can’t manage steps on her own.

I may have knocked off work for the day, but I’m still in character, so I take his offered hand.

“Thank you.” At least his scent doesn’t irritate me like some samples in the Omega Center’s books, so I shouldn’t vomit halfway through our meal, although I’ll keep it as a backup option if I need a speedy exit.

Brad leads me to a booth that has a semblance of privacy, but a few tables in the room are still in view. I glance at them as I settle myself, noting which diners might have the best view of us.

“I’m so glad you agreed to come out with me,” Brad says, sitting down opposite. “With all those articles, I was worried the media frenzy might upset you.”

Sure, the paparazzi aren’t pleasant, but I chose this lifestyle knowing a lack of privacy would be a factor. I can handle much darker things than some leaked photos. The only thing I can’t handle is the thought of losing my alphas. And enduring my damn heats.

Brad is child’s play compared to those issues.

The alpha accepts menus from a server and offers me one. “Do you want to choose, or should I order for you?”

“Hmm.” I lace my fingers together over the food lists. Obviously he doesn’t know about my limited reading ability. “Tell me your top three suggestions.”

He drones on about the qualities of the braised duck, a liver paté, and a battered barramundi. All of them sound like torture methods.

“Anything vegetarian?” I muse quietly.

He startles. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” His smile falters as he re-examines the menu. Of course other alphas don’t notice. Only the men the universe designed just for me care about details like my eating preferences.

I settle for the mushroom and parmesan linguini and Brad orders a bottle of champagne. As the liquid sloshes and fizzes in my glass, I can’t help remembering the cocktail I drank while chatting with Callisto over the phone. Even in that silly situation, I felt peace.

I guess a scent match is no joke, even if it doesn’t work out.

“Well, this is nice,” Brad says, locking eyes with me. “I’m really thankful you said yes to this date.”

Date ? Fuck off, slimeball. “Well, you offered to discuss the press situation,” I remind him. I paste on a polite smile and congratulate myself on restraining my temper.

“Yes, of course, but we’ve been so busy with The Omega’s Race that we haven’t had time to get to know each other.” He rests his arms across the table, hands a few inches from mine.

Damn, I hope he doesn’t believe this counts as subtle. I fiddle with my brooch to stay far away from his touch. “True. I’ve been going at a galloping pace since I have so much to learn.” I lower my voice like we’re sharing secrets. “Plus looking after my wild alpha.”

He leans in. “That can’t be an easy task, especially since Rickon’s, well, not as strong. If you need help keeping Zack in line, I’m here for you.”

I flutter my lashes at him to hide my true feelings. What a laugh, when Rickon has Zack wrapped around his little finger. The burly alpha seems fascinated with my beautiful first love, and understandably so.

A punk like Brad? Zack would wipe the floor with him.

“Hmm,” I murmur. The sound drags out and I let the warm intensity between us simmer. Let him mistake my hatred for attraction. “I heard you and Rickon had a thing at one time?”

Brad nods shamelessly. “Yes, I adore that man.” He reaches out and strokes a finger up my arm. “As I do you.”

That touch had better fucking wash off, or I’ll come back to cleave his hand from his arm. I keep my thoughts locked away under more soft smiles. “But we hardly know each other,” I protest with all the strength of a newly hatched butterfly.

He smiles charmingly, confident of his victory. “That’s easy enough to solve, isn’t it? Do you dislike me?”

“I—” Fuck, I nearly said yes outright. “I don’t know.”

“Please, Red, give me a chance. I can be so good to you.” He slides his fingers along my arm to my hand, tugging it down to the table and linking our fingers. Gross.

“Well, I suppose it can’t hurt to at least get to know you,” I offer after a moment of contemplation.

He grins and lifts his glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

When he says he’ll drink, he clearly means for me to get drunk with him.

I can already guess his devious little mind is planning an “oops” rendezvous in his car after the meal.

I force more smiles and eat the spring roll entrée as we chat, mostly about adventures that point out his strengths. Supposed strengths.

I mean, speaking honestly, he was voted the world’s sexiest man for a reason, but like Rickon said, that’s only because Callisto wasn’t in the running. I blush as I realize my thoughts have returned to the handsome lawyer.

“What’s that cute look for?” Brad asks. He’s not drunk yet, but he has relaxed and his words slur ever so faintly.

I lift my glass to my lips. “I don’t know.

Maybe it’s because of the atmosphere, but I’m feeling good.

” I take a sip of my drink, watching him over the rim and holding eye contact.

Maybe it’s time. From the edge of my vision, I spot the lone diner across from us lift his phone.

Too high for texting, even though his thumbs move. Gotcha.

“Has anyone told you how good you smell, Red?”

Brad’s comment catches me off guard, and I blink at him. Is he stupid? I’m an omega with two alphas who are besotted with me. Of course I know I smell good to them. But someone else commenting on it makes me uneasy.

“Aww, shucks. How am I supposed to answer that?” I fan my face with my fingers, as if he’s made me blush.

He grins, eating it up.

My giggle echoes through the booth. “Be honest with me, Bradley,” I say, leaning forward and squeezing his hand. “You fed the press those photos, didn’t you?”

He flinches. “Ah, well . . .”

“It’s okay. It’s cute.” I wave my fork at him and giggle again. “But you’ve got my attention now, so I want to know why you released those articles.”

He has the decency to flush, although that could be from the alcohol. “I tried to get your attention, but it didn’t feel like you saw me. Except for when the cameras are running, your gaze is glued to your two alphas.” Brad pouts a little.

I drop my fork onto the plate and cover my mouth. “Oh, but we’re coworkers. We’re even starring as lovers. How could I not see you?”

A frown wrinkles his smooth cheeks. “That’s acting, but this, this is real.” He squeezes my hand. “I didn’t think you’d say yes to dinner with me otherwise.”

Smart guy.

His eyes widen, imploring. “I want to make us real, too. And I’m sure you can feel this special thing between us, don’t you?”

I pick up my fork and stroke the thick silver handle.

This one fits in my grip quite nicely, and those long tines would look perfect disappearing into the back of Bradley’s hand.

Crimson liquid would well up around them, just like the juices pouring out of his steak.

That would feel so good. I’ve done it once.

But it would also make another mess for Calli to clean up, and I’m already on probation after the jailbreak incident. Pity, but I should lie low for now.

I chuckle as I tug my hand free of his. “Thanks for being honest with me. You’re right.

I wouldn’t have given you the time of day, and your little stunts to get my attention won’t change that.

Leave it on the set, Bradley, ’cause we’ll never be anything more.

” I stand up, swaying a little as my legs cramp.

He stares at me, not having processed all my words yet. “Hang on—”

I press a hand to my stomach. “Oh, goodness me, that champagne must have gone straight to my belly. I’d better go find the ladies’.”

Snatching my bag, I toddle across the floor, clearly tipsy. Wobbly enough to trip near the lone diner and sprawl directly over his lap.

“Oh, fuck,” I mutter, flailing across his table for balance. “I’m so sorry. Think I’ve had too much to drink.”

I’m halfway down the stairs before I hear the shout go up and chairs grate along the floor. I laugh as I pocket the stolen phone and run for my life out to the side alley where my alphas wait in the car. The scent of fries smacks me in the face as I throw open the door and fling myself inside.

“Go, go,” I call, clinging to as much of Zack as I can reach and diving my nose into his neck as the car lurches forward.

“Got it?” Rickon asks, checking me over in the rearview mirror.

“Yeah.” I beam at him. “ This moron gave me everything .”

He laughs. “Great, because the big guy here was getting restless.”

To prove his point, Zack pulls me onto his lap, the vibration in his chest rolling through my body. Fuck, he’s purring, and it’s everything I need to cleanse Brad’s slimy presence from my thoughts.

“Wait a sec, Zack,” I murmur, tugging at my brooch. He helps me finish the task, revealing the tiny device on the back. I carefully tug the recording device free and pass it and the phone to Rickon in the front. Zack gets to work on my high-waisted pants, freeing me completely.

“Time to write some articles of our own,” Rickon says as Zack tilts backward, sliding his pants under his ass enough to free his cock.

Yes, this is exactly what I need. My alphas. Not some pretentious jerk trying to worm his way into being mine. The leech’s scent lingers on my skin and I rub the back of my hand on my clothes, wiping off the traces. I growl with annoyance as the unwanted alpha stench sticks like the plague.

But I know the perfect way to get rid of the scent.

I spread myself over my pack leader, moaning as his erection slips inside. Zack tugs me closer and kisses my bond mark, making me convulse with need. Thank goodness Rickon left Agent Pierce at home with the promise not to let Zack out of the car while they waited for me.

“Fuck, Zack,” I mutter as I writhe over his hips, hands braced on his hard chest.

He lifts his head off my shoulder only to press his lips to mine, swallowing down my moans as we sate each other on the backseat, sweating out any traces of Bradley on my skin.

Rickon groans in the front. “Bloody oath. You’re making me hard as a rock, you two.”

I giggle. Heat pulses through me as Zack locks one arm around my hips and spears up into me, stealing my breath. Hot and fast, the orgasm hits me, inspired by my supreme desperation for my scent matches.

I slump onto Zack’s pulsing chest, breathing hard.

The car dips, tilting as we slip down the ramp to our underground parking. “Better get those clothes back on so we can make it inside,” Rickon says tightly, one hand holding the tent in his pants.

“All right, alpha,” I whisper, knowing how much he enjoys hearing those words.

Rickon swears under his breath, and his fingers tighten on the wheel as he finds our parking spot. He flings himself out the door and comes around to open mine, pinning me against the car the moment I step out.

“I love you,” he says, stealing my mouth.

I shiver, his intensity palpable through his trembling body. When he breaks the kiss, I whisper, “And I love you,” against his lips.

He grabs my hand, leans in the car, and grabs the “unofficially” borrowed OCB recording device. “Come on, Zack. I need to take our clever omega to bed, stat.”

Zack slides out and follows us into the elevator, the car chirping as Rickon locks it.

Rickon kisses my hand as he leads me out of the garage elevator and across the lobby, his eyes loaded with the fiery promise of what’s to come.

“Wait, Ms Jones,” the concierge calls behind us. “A parcel arrived for you.” He comes around the desk, holding a thick A4 envelope. I turn and freeze as I realize Zack’s standing between me and the man, and he’s not leashed.

“Zack,” I call softly, willing him to behave.

Slowly Zack sticks out his hand. The concierge, who’s seen the OCB escort and witnessed us take him out on a leash, swallows hard as he extends the letter.

Please, God, please. Let him just—

Zack takes the white envelope and nods once, backing up a few steps before turning around.

Rickon releases a heavy breath, and the same relief washes through my soul.

“Well done, Zack,” I cry, hugging my alpha. “You did so good.”

He smiles down at me and offers me the envelope when I stop crushing him. I take it, delicious warmth spreading through me. Maybe we won’t need the rehabilitation course or the OCB agents. Maybe Zack’s done with his wild outbursts, and we can live as a normal, happy pack. Free.

Rickon reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small plastic container with cake smooshed inside. “Good job, Zack,” he praises, offering a piece.

Zack snorts and leans past the cake to plant a kiss on the alpha’s lips, shocking him into silence. “White Mine better than cake,” he says, straightening. Then he cheekily pops his mouth over the piece, sucking on Rickon’s fingers.

“Fuck,” Rickon hisses. “Bradley’s got nothing on you for charm.”

I laugh, the sound spilling out of me as I usher my men into the elevator that goes to the top floor. Yeah, this is living.