Her expression softens slightly.
“I’m all in,” I say quietly. Cammie opens her mouth. “Even when he’s being an alpha-hole, he’s stillmyalpha-hole.”
“How can you possibly know that? He’s been nothing but a turd to you.”
This is the thing I love best about Cammie. She’s always on my side
“He was sweet when we were texting,” I remind her. “And there are moments when he lets down his guard. He tries to pretend that he’s not interested, but I see how he looks at me. I notice how he leans in when I talk or tries not to smile when I say something clever.”
She looks skeptical.
“He’s mine just like Silas and Graham.” I say it quietly but I mean it completely. My omega has never once been confused about this.
My gaze drifts across the restaurant. Silas is still sitting at his table, broad shoulders moderately more relaxed as he talks with the bartender. As though he can feel my eyes on him, he glances over. Our gazes meet. His expression softens instantly. My chest goes warm and gooey.
Cammie follows my gaze. She's quiet for a second. "Oh wow," she murmurs.
"What?"
"He looks at you like you're the only thing in the room."
"He's a pack alpha. He's being protective."
She gives me a look. "Lark."
"I know," I say, giving her a look that saydrop it.
“Whatever,” she says, holding her hands up in surrender.
She sits back into the pleather cushion. “If you want Saint to stop acting like a tortured romance novel hero and start giving you his own heart eyes, you’re going to have to do something.”
“Like what?”
She shrugs. “Convince him you’re worth it.”
I stare at her. “That’s the problem,” I say. “How?”
She tilts her head, thinking.
“I’m trying to be patient,” I continue. “Things haven’t exactly been easy for him.”
“Meaning?”
“Graham told me a little about what Saint’s been dealing with,” I say quietly. His injury. His mom. The timing of it all."
Cammie winces. “That sucks.” Then she takes another sip of her margarita.
“But right now I’m not in the mood to empathize. I’d rather figure out a way to make him bend to his knees and worship at his omega’s feet.”
“What can I possibly do,” I mutter, “to force that man to understand we’re meant to be together?”
Cammie grins slowly. “Oh,” she says. “I have thoughts.” And suddenly I’m very nervous.
“Normally I’d say to make him jealous. Flirt with another alpha, et cetera, et cetera.”
I curl my nose. I don’t like that idea and neither does my omega.
“But,” she continues, “that wouldn’t be fair to your giant or the big guy.” She waves her margarita in Silas’ direction.
