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Currently, the alpha on whose back Sawyer is hitching a ride leans in to kiss the other omega.
“Or not so clean,” Roman continues, not missing a beat. “Whoa, that kiss is hot.”
“Why the fuck are we watching them?” Kyrian grumbles, turning away. “I should get back to work. Got better things to do than to watch another pack make out on the dance floor.”
“Grumpy bear.” Roman snorts. “It all started because you pissed off that omega, let me remind you.”
“And I’ll probably never see him again.” Kyrian nods at me. “See you guys later at home.”
I nod back, thoughtful. “Remember the event. We’re staying late.”
“I don’t fucking care.”
I grin.
We live in another part of town, a new boho suburb. Our apartment faces a park. It’s neat. Good digs.
I can’t wait to get my men alone tonight, because watching that pack make out was sexy, and I’ve been dying for some action all day. Then again…
“What got that stick up his ass today?” Roman mutters as we watch Kyrian push his way through the crowd, heading for his post at the entrance.
“Search me,” I mutter back, but I think I have a hint in the shape of a cute omega.
Kyrian’s reaction is unusual. He’s a cool guy, pretty Zen despite his tattoos and his job as bouncer. He’s not above watching couples and packs make out on screen or real life, either.
Something about this omega has piqued him. It’s like watching a cat trying to get rid of a burr in their fur. And I should know, because I used to have a cat as a kid, and they are prickly assholes, but also adorable fluffballs. Although Kyrian isn’t the latter by any stretch of the imagination, he can sometimes be the former.
He may be Zen, but he has triggers, as I’ve discovered during our time together.
And he won’t talk about them, or what caused them.
Could this Sawyer be a trigger? But how and why?
7
SAWYER
“So… who were those guys?” Ronin, ex-tenant of mine, ink artist, hulking alpha and one of my friend Gigi’s pack mates, sips at his black coffee as I wipe down the counter for the millionth time.
“…Hm? I’m sorry? What guys?”
“The guys you were staring at, at the bar the other night.”
“Oh. Nobody.”
“Nobody? I don’t buy it,” he says. “Besides, you said that too quickly.”
“No, I didn’t, Ronin Holmes. That’s my natural speed.”
“Ah-huh. You were ogling those guys.”
“I was glaring at them,” I retort. “It’s different.”
“Glaring? Why?” Suddenly he slams his coffee cup down on the bar. “What did they do to you?”
Have I mentioned he’s also a good friend? I’m surrounded by nice people. If only I lacked family stress, and didn’t feel weirdly lonely, I’d lead a charmed life.
“Calm down, Ron. Sit.” I point at an empty stool. “Don’t go all alpha on me.”
