It’s quiet in the office, interrupted only by the occasional mouse click and the tapping of keyboards. Damon, Gunnar, and I sit at our desks, working on our laptops.
We’re supposed to be searching police and security databases for criminals and trying to locate their whereabouts, but I can’t concentrate.
My thoughts are consumed with Lena—the way she smells, the way she tastes, and, most importantly, what she’s doing right now. It’s been three weeks since our encounter at the library, but she’s been on my mind nearly every day since.
It’s almost bordering on obsession.
“I wonder what Lena is like outside of work,” I muse aloud, picturing her sweet face and those sparkling blue and green eyes. The sound of Gunnar’s keyboard stops, and he raises his head to look at me. Damon remains focused on his work, but I know he’s listening. He’s always listening whenever Gunnar or I bring her up. “Do you think she has any hobbies besides reading?”
Gunnar snorts. “She’s got personality.’
“I never said she didn’t,” I snap, irritated by his barb. “That’s why I’m curious about what she likes to do for fun outside of work.”
He opens his mouth to retort, but Damon cuts in.
“Enough,” he says firmly, and Gunnar turns back to his laptop. “You two need to stop fixating on her and wondering what she’s doing. It’s a waste of time. She’s out of our lives now and not coming back.”
“No, she’s not,” Gunnar protests. “Stop pretending our bond with her doesn’t exist.”
“I felt our connection at the library. She’s our omega,” I add.
“It’s her scent that got us all,” Damon growls. He closes his eyes and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “But that doesn’t mean anything. She rejected us and didn’t give a good reason why. She clearly said we weren’t her type, so obviously, there’s a mismatch in our scents.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe she went through something with an old pack?” I ask, annoyed that Damon would jump to conclusions so quickly.
“Yeah? Like what?” Damon challenges, glaring at me from across the room. “From the start, she was cagey, never answering questions honestly. For fuck’s sake, she was hiding her omega designation. She clammed up when we asked why she didn’t have a pack.”
“It doesn’t mean we should deny our connection to her,” I say, taking my opportunity since he’s been shutting Gunnar and me down. “She misses us.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it, Max. There’s something off about her, and I think we should keep our distance. She might be trouble.”
“I think we should try to reach out to her,” I say hopefully, knowing that Damon is still listening. “We probably came on a little strong at the library, so maybe we need to soften things. How about sending her some flowers?”
“Hmm, flowers might work on her,” Gunnar says. “She’s the sweetest and purest omega I’ve ever had the pleasure to knot.”
“It’s worth a shot,” I say, grinning despite myself. “She might love them and finally give us a call.”
“Or she’ll simply throw them away,” Damon mutters, still staring blankly at his computer screen. He’s pretending to be interested in profiling a random creep, someone we could potentially target as our next mark, but I know he’s barely paying attention.
“At the very least, we could stay friends with her,” I say, ignoring Damon. I won’t let him downplay this when I know he also felt the connection with Lena.
“And what if she throws them out?” Gunnar asks me.
“Then we keep trying,” I reply, deciding to let the conversation rest for now and focusing instead on what I can scrounge up about Lena online.
I type her name and ‘Willowstone Library’ into my search engine, but nothing comes up except that she works there. The library has a small website, but staff are only listed by their first names and job titles, yielding little to no results.
I’m intrigued by the lack of online information about our mysterious omega, but I know I won’t let that stop me from finding out more about her.
