Although she’s a stranger to me, I feel an overwhelming urge to protect her and make sure she’s okay. So I don’t move. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right?”
She stares at her wringing hands. “Uh-huh.”
“You could come with me?” I seize the moment. “I know we’ve just met, but?—”
“See?” One of the twins stomps his foot like an oversized toddler. “He’s trying to steal her from us!”
“Go,” she whispers. “Please.”
“You!” Lindsay points her finger at me while her minions heave the lion statue across the floor. “Time to leave.”
“Run along.” The intolerable pack leader makes a shooing motion. “Or we’ll have security throw you out.”
“Okay, I’m leaving.” I reluctantly rise from my seat, hands raised, an icy chill running down my spine as the distance between me and the stunning omega increases. I look down at her again, pleading silently, hoping she may change her mind. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”
She stares ahead, jaw set. “I’m here with my pack.”
A flurry of people descend, shoving me aside to fluff her hair and touch up her makeup. She stays frozen in place, letting them treat her body like a canvas.
A security guard roughly yanks my arm, tugging me from the room while every alpha instinct in my body fires up, screaming,mine.
Only she isn’t mine.
She already has a pack, and as I’m thrown out of the building, my heart sinks, wondering whether I’ll ever see her again.
TWELVE
Kady
LINDSAY
I emailed over the photos. Let me know your favorites ASAP. Article will go live tomorrow.
I groan as I set down my phone and drag myself over to my desk to power up my laptop. After the photoshoot from hell, even Delilah’s delicious enchiladas didn’t improve my mood. She, Sabs, and Faye rallied around me, cozying up together on the sofa to watchSchitt’s Creekuntil I made excuses to go to bed early.
“Not avoiding me anymore, huh?” I stroke Larry’s head as he hops up to peer at the screen.
He hissed at me for the first time yesterday, probably because the Blandon Pack smell had rubbed off on me.
I open Lindsay’s email then scroll through the photographs. Larry’s squashed face contorts. He yowls at a close-up of Kyro before jumping down and retreating to his snug corner underneath my bed.
“I wish I could join you, Larry.”
My stomach churns at seeing me with the Blandon Pack. The photographs are tasteful, high fashion, and exude a don’t-mess-with-us-because-we’re-a-powerful-pack vibe. I’ve got to hand it to her, Lindsay did an amazing job. But there are only so many ways to polish a turd.
I look pretty much the same in all the shots. Lindsay advised us to go for the “we’re above everyone else” look, which helped as I at least didn’t have to fake a smile.
I select the least offensive of the images—one where Kyro’s face is half-covered by a hat, and Tyler doesn’t look like he’s straining on the toilet. None of them are photogenic, but the editing has made them look somewhat passable.
My breath catches in my lungs when the next photograph fills the screen.
It’s him.
The hot delivery guy who waltzed in halfway through the shoot. A tall, dark, handsome stranger with dazzling green eyes. He was sweet, kind, and he smelled fucking divine—a mix of sandalwood and cashmere with a deep masculine undertone that I couldn’t quite place.
While I remained professional yesterday, keeping one eye on the Blandon Pack, I can enjoy the moment now—the warm rush that flooded my bloodstream when our knees touched, how his voice sent a tremble of longing through me, and how his green-eyed stare made my lips tingle.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”
