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My well-deserved bruise smarts when my face splits into another involuntary grin. “You callin’ me a liar, pretty girl?”
She sniffs, giving a clogged little giggle sound that goes straight to my heart.
And maybe my cock a little bit, too.
I’m only human, okay?
“I would never,” she says, but there’s a little slyness to her eyes that I love.
Her focus drops to her feet. They’re as dainty and adorable as the rest of her body, clad in pretty silver sandals. Sympathy and a surge of protectiveness rise inside of me. My inner Alpha lunges like a dog on a leash, trying to strangle himself to get to her.
Jesus, fuck. Down, boy.
For all I know, this girl belongs to some other asshole. But I can’t just walk away from her. I need to make sure she’s going to be safe.
And it’s just that—a need. One that pounds in my blood, my ears, my brain. Whatever else I do, I must make sure this sweet thing is okay.
The female alpha stops staring daggers at me, her frown turning puzzled. She shifts the tablet in her arms and taps at it. “You said you play hockey?”
I nod, unable to look away from Remi’s face a second time. Even when the other alpha chuckles to herself.
“Ah. That explains it,” she chirps, flipping the tablet closed. “Remi, this is Damon. He’s the star forward for the Orlando Timberwolves. And he’s one of your alphas.”
Because she’s all I see, I notice every flicker on the little omega’s face. The way her eyes go round and her lower lip quivers. For one heart-stopping second, I think she might cry again.
But then she smiles.
It’s a wobbly, watery thing. But it hits my heart like a flaming arrow.
And I am all the way in.
chapter
eleven
There are rules for omegas.
A lot of them aren’t official. No one will put you in jail if you break them. But no one will care if something terrible happens to you, either.
Omegas shouldn’t walk home alone. Omegas should wear de-scenter. Omegas should find good alphas to claim them, so they aren’t as appealing to unbonded alphas.
And if an omega follows all of these rules and still somehow sends an alpha in rut? Well, that’s bad luck. Biology is just a fact of life…
So, there are rules. And, generally, I’m a person who follows the rules. Likes them, even.
But this alpha?
He makes me want to break every rule I know.
I don’t think I’ve ever met a single other person who’s as handsome as he is. Black hair cropped short on the sides and left in tousled disarray on top of his head. Full, sculpted lips. High, prominent cheekbones, and an angled jaw wide enough to balance out his Roman nose.
I don’t know where to look first. After a dizzying bounce, I land on a set of aqua-blue eyes. They’re so gorgeous, it’s easy to forget the purple splotch covering one of them.
His scent doesn’t help my memory. The blend of warm autumn spices is mind-bending. It takes me a moment to match him with the scent card Celine gave me.
Good Lord.
This model-beautiful, broad-shouldered, pro-athlete alpha smells like pumpkin bread.
