“To be fair, I did threaten to force an emotion into Parker.”
“But she should have known better than to think you’d truly do it. Tell me, how is your cat dealing with receiving orders from a less powerful omega?”
Bree narrowed her eyes. “Fine,” she lied.
“You’re going to have to take on the position of primary eventually.”
“I don’t want it,” she said, enunciating every word because, yeah, nobody seemed to be hearing her. “Besides, I’m a crap omega. I’d make an even worse primary.”
“You’re very good at what you do,” he said.
“I’m a social nightmare with a tolerance threshold that is shorter than your hair.”
“Being warm and fuzzy isn’t necessary to be primary. Some people don’t want to be fussed over and they respond better to you.”
“Still, being the primary omega requires diplomacy—I lack that. Dani is better suited to the position. She’s, like, the perfect omega.”
“That doesn’t automatically make her the best choice of primary. Plus, you have an ability that she and the other omegas in our pride don’t.”
That counted against her, though, in some eyes. “The pride wouldn’t accept me as primary. Not enough people trust me. And not just because some of them whisper that I must share Paxton’s ‘darkness.’ It weirds them out that I can hear thoughts and feed them emotional energy. They think I’m bound to fall like my mother or ‘go bad.’”
The latter did happen sometimes, if an omega became overwhelmed by their gift. They retreated inside their shields, leaving them close to apathetic. Just to feel something, they extracted healthy feelings from people instead of negative ones.
They didn’t always do it merely to get that good ole emotional “expresso shot.” Sometimes they wanted others to be as miserable as they were, or to avenge a slight. In that state, they often misused their ability to amplify a person’s emotions as well—sending an irritated person into a rage, or a sad person into a state of complete depression.
“You will not fall or go bad, I’m very sure of that. Anyone who knows you will say that very same thing.” Vinnie sighed. “I know this isn’t easy for you. As Alpha, I could of course order her to step down and then promote you, but that would mean nothing to the pride. They need to see that you want the role; need to see that you’re strong enough to take it by force if that’s what’s necessary.”
“I won’t duel with someone for a position I don’t want.” Her cat wasn’t so opposed to the idea, because she was mightily exasperated with Dani at this point.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. But ask yourself one thing: If Dani is such a perfect omega, why did she come to me claiming to be concerned that you’re not handling your duties correctly and suggesting that some things should be left to her and the other omegas?”
Bree’s cat sliced out her claws. This underhanded shit was totally out of line.
“I disagree with her assessment, which I told her. The real issue is that she and her cat feel threatened by you; their instinct is to try to keep you down. Don’t let them.” Vinnie turned and headed for the door. “Take care, sweetheart. And thank you.”
Her nose wrinkled. “For what?”
Opening the door, Vinnie glanced at her over his shoulder. “For playing a part in the fact that another day has passed that my daughter has spent out of jail. I’m sure going to struggle with that once you’ve left the pride.”
“What did you just say?” rumbled a new voice from outside the room.
Ah, shit.
Vinnie’s head whipped around. “Alex—”
“Repeat what you just said.”
Instead, Vinnie let the door open a little wider and said, “I think this is a conversation you need to have with Bree.” Coward.
“You know what? I think I will.” Alex prowled into the room, slammed the door shut, and flicked the lock.
“Look, Alex—” And then he was there, crowding her against the wall and slamming a palm either side of her head.
“You’re leaving?”
Bree swallowed at the lethal whisper, shocked right done to the bone by the fury emanating from him. “Um, well—”
“You’re leaving?”
“It seems like the best option.”
His dark eyes glittered with something wild and dangerous as he growled deep in his throat. She froze—an instinctive reaction she couldn’t control. Jesus, his anger was so hot and intense, it seemed to clog and thicken the air. She’d seen him mad before, but never like this. Never on the verge of losing his shit.
Not a lot unnerved Bree—she prided herself on that. But as he towered over her, every inch the barely controlled predator that glared at her as a feral panther would while crouched to pounce, a ribbon of fear twined around her lungs.
Her feline unsheathed her claws, ready to swipe at him if he made a wrong move. Maybe that was why his own beast stirred, reaching close enough to the surface for Bree to sense him—he was just as infuriated as his human half.
Shit. She really didn’t feel like dealing with a pissed off wolverine right now. Or ever.
“Just when were you going to tell me?” Alex rumbled, his jaw tight.
“I didn’t see the point in making it well-known until I had a place somewhere. Vinnie put out some feelers to see if any prides have room for an omega. It’s taking time, though, because the primary omega needs to be stronger than I am, or I’ll just be in the exact same position I am now with Dani.”
“That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You’re going to let that bitch push you out of the pride.”
“She’s not pushing me anywhere, I’m choosing to leave. There are a lot of factors behind my decision. She was one of them.”
“And what about the people you’ll be leaving behind?”
“My parents and extended family members are dead. There are people here who I care for and who’d probably miss me, but none of them need me here. They have their own lives—I’m just hanging on the periphery of theirs. Look, this isn’t some spur of the moment decision. I gave it a lot of thought.”
“All the redecorating you’re doing … You’re freshening up the house for whoever moves in after you’re gone.” He swore in Russian. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She frowned. “Well, quite frankly, it’s simply not your business.”
The deep growl that rattled in his chest and sawed at his throat was a feral thing. A chill swept over her skin and, honest to God, every hair on her body stood on end. That animalistic sound hadn’t just come from him, it had come from his beast.
Her wary cat hissed and arched her spine, her hackles rising.
“Wrong, Bree. Every fucking inch of you is my business,” he said, his voice low and thick. “Every. Inch.”
As stunned as her cat, Bree stared at him. “Are you high?”
“You’re not leaving.”
“Alex—”
“You’re not. Going. Anywhere.” His eyes changed as his beast pushed close to the surface. The animal stared out at her—bold, unflinching, enraged. There was a warning there to back down. There was something else in those eyes, too. Something that made her skin prickle and her breath catch: Territorialism, pure and primitive.