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She was born in 2000? And she’s already twenty-four? By that math, shouldn’t I be dead?
Archer interrupts my morbid musings, clearing his throat. Behind his square glasses, dark eyes dart between my face and the girl hesitating near the doors. I follow his gaze until mine lands on hers, the big, blue doe eyes blinking. Long, blonde lashes fan her lightly tanned cheeks.
The expression does something to me. My alpha instincts roil, urging me to get up and go over to her.
But why?
Her shoulders suddenly jerk back, straightening her posture. She balls her fists at her sides and marches forward, jerking to a halt at the end of our table before practically throwing her purse onto it.
A cheap pleather sack, I notice. A strange tug of longing yanks at my gut.
We can do better than that.
The odd thought agitates me. What the fuck is my problem today?
Oblivious, she whips a binder out of her bag and slams it open. The graceless movement would amuse me, if I wasn’t so confused.
Why is my body straining to get closer to her? And why is she rushing?
Declan leans back in his swiveling chair and snorts, all arrogant ease. “Where’s the fire, baby?”
“Fire?” Megera’s head snaps up, her expression strangely strangled. Her eyes fly to me and then quickly drop back to her work.
She can smell me? In here?
I have a smoky scent, but it’s odd for a beta to catch it. Especially in a room full of scent-neutralizers. Plus, it’s rude to point out strangers’ individual scents in an office setting.
The beta makes a high-pitched, throat-clearing sound. Her cheeks warm in a fetching blush as she realizes her faux pas and processes that Declan was taunting her. She gives him an unimpressed look.
“Oh. You were kidding.”
She’s adorable.
“He was being an ass,” I correct, cutting Declan a severe look. “Please excuse him, Miss…?”
I know her name. I want to see if she’ll correct my assumption that she isn’t married. I don’t see a ring, but that’s no guarantee. Beta-beta couples and same-designation packs usually wear wedding rings if they’re romantically exclusive, since they don’t have visible bond marks the way alphas and omegas do. But some packs prefer not to.
Maybe she has bites hidden under those prim clothes. Maybe she has her own alpha and her own omega. Maybe they’ve both bitten her, leaving secret silver half-moons on that smooth, gorgeous skin.
I can’t decide if that thought makes me unbearably horny or irrationally jealous.
“Miss Reed,” she demurs, still not raising her eyes. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Ash.”
I stifle another smile. “You know my name.”
Her nod tries just a little too hard to be brisk. “Yes, sir. I researched the team and your organization to prepare my marketing strategy for you.”
Sir.
I would prefer alpha. I can work with “sir,” though.
Like he can sense my fucked-up thoughts, Archer’s head snaps to the side, his features full of surprise. It takes me a second to realize he’s impressed with her.
None of the other candidates came in with a prepared marketing strategy. They all wanted to talk about their degrees, their past work experience and whether this job includes season tickets.
“You prepared a marketing strategy?” Declan’s voice drips disdain while he flicks his cool eyes up and down her body. “That’s cute. Have you ever even watched a game, honey?”
Miss Reed’s spine snaps straight again. Her expression wobbles, and I think I might have to beat the shit out of my packmate for making her look so stricken.
