When an Omega Snaps (3 page)

Okay, maybe she was to his taste because, physically, there was nothing wrong with her. No, his problem lay more with the fact that she personified utter chaos.
I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life dealing with turmoil,
even if handling situations—and handling her curves—was something he would totally enjoy
.

Finished with the last bite of his meal, he planned to leave—
Escape now while you can!
—when the noise level rose another notch.

Stay out of it. Don’t look.
Argh. He couldn’t stop himself. Without conscious volition—or because of his sly liger’s influence—he glanced over at the sea of mostly blonde heads. As one they chanted, “Chug. Chug. Chug.” The lionesses did like their martinis and cocktails, and A Lion’s Pride catered to their taste. This place was more than just a steakhouse. The bar boasted knowledgeable bartenders who could make a mean drink for those who liked more than just a beer or wine.

Did it surprise him to note Meena was the center of attention, downing a large cocktail without taking a breath? Such a useful skill to have when swallowing.

Bad kitty.

When she finished her impressive chug, she deposited the glass on the bar and licked her lips.

Moist. Succulent. Lips.

Mmm.

He meant to turn away, but as if sensing his interest, she turned her head and caught his stare. Winked. She also smirked.

Uh-oh. He knew that look. It spelled run.

Alas, he proved too slow.

Bracing her hands on the bar, Meena hoisted herself and stood on the polished surface. She still wore those ridiculously short shorts. Given her position atop the bar, now every man in the place could see how her outfit molded her hourglass curves.

It brought a growl and rising hackles to his inner feline. If only he had a long coat to cover her up. An odd thought given many of the lionesses wore the same outfit or worse and he didn’t give a damn.

“Who’s going to do some shots with me?”

Hands shot up along with too many voices yelling, “Me!”

Meena beamed. “Awesome. Bartender. A round of tequila for me and my friends.”

Tequila never appeared sexier than in that moment because of Miss-Determined-To-Vex-Him.

First, she licked the salt she sprinkled on her hand. Her lithe, pink tongue traced the salty crystals, slowly, languorously.

Would she take that kind of time with naked skin?

Focus. Focus
!

He didn’t avert his gaze in time. With her head tossed back, her hair tumbling over her shoulders and down her spine to tickle the top of her ass, Meena sucked the tequila from the glass.

I wonder if she likes her hair tugged.
Especially if he took her from behind, the soft lushness of her buttocks welcoming his thrusts.

Leo couldn’t help but groan.

As for her, she laughed as she took the lemon wedge in her mouth and chomped. Her face contorted, and her lips pursed after she spat the yellow chunk out. “Argh! Woo!” Fist pump.

Utterly insane. Kind of like the rest of the lionesses he knew.

A sane man would escape now. A wise man would run.

But he couldn’t leave.

As pride omega, it behooved him to ensure things didn’t get too out of hand. He wouldn’t step in and stop the drinking—that would involve way too much pissing and moaning about him ruining their fun. Then there was the whole annoyance that, when he used his voice of reason on drunken pride ladies, they tended to start calling him big daddy—and presented their bottoms with offers to spank them.

Despite the fact that he might have to drag a few ladies home when alcohol skewed their sense of direction, he’d let the lionesses drink their faces off and then lecture them later on the behavior befitting a young lady. They wouldn’t listen, would probably actually laugh, but he’d try. Because that was what omegas did. They provided guidance—and the nagging voice that said “I told you so.”

In Meena’s case, though, I don’t think a verbal lashing will do the trick.

Depended on which part he lashed with his tongue. Too easily could he picture himself between her creamy thighs.

Bad. So bad.

Yummy. So yummy.

He should focus on the speech he’d give the wild lionesses. Or he could skip the useless yapping and put them over his knee like they kept asking. More like put Meena over his knee. Present for punishment those barely covered cheeks in those indecent shorts. Smack his hand on the rounded contour. Lean in to—

“Another round, bartender. B52’s this time.”

This wouldn’t be good.

Now it should be noted, while shapeshifters had heightened metabolisms and could process alcohol quicker than humans, it still had an effect, especially if drunk in copious amounts.

It didn’t take a brilliant mind to see the coming catastrophe, especially as the buxom Meena wavered on the bar’s polished countertop, her cheeks flushed, her eyes glassy, and her laughter rich and unabashed.

What she didn’t have was common sense. Even though she tottered, she kept tossing back the drinks the cheering crowd offered.

“Who wants a blowjob?” she asked.

Me!

On some visceral level, he knew she meant the alcohol shot, but it didn’t stop his dick from perking with interest.

Nor did it stop him from imagining her on her knees, eyes peering at him as her cheeks hollowed while her mouth opened wide over his shaft and slid back and forth.

Groan.

Placing his linen napkin on the table, Leo rose, and while he meant to leave—screw sticking around waiting for trouble—he, instead, found himself sauntering in her direction.

A crowd of lionesses stood in his way. It took only a few nudges to get bodies to part before him. For those that didn’t get the hint, he grabbed and moved them aside.

As he hit the area around the bar, he didn’t say a word. He simply held out his arms, just in time too, to catch a tipsy armful as gravity finally took its toll.

Drunk or not, Meena recognized him. A wide smile stretched her full lips, and a dimple appeared in her cheek. “Hello there, Pookie. I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

“Did no one ever tell you to not stand on bars?”

“Well, yes, my friend Gina did, but mostly because last time I was wearing a skirt and her boyfriend wouldn’t stop peeking up it. She totally started that fight too. As if I wanted her scrawny boyfriend. I prefer a big man. Like you.”

The compliment worked. Warmth rushed through him, energizing his nerves, his skin. Everything. It made him hyper aware of her presence in his arms. It also unfortunately was noticed by those around them.

“Nice catch, Leo.”

“I won twenty bucks.”

“Which is bullshit,” grumbled another female voice. “She technically fell off the bar.”

“But she didn’t hit the floor. You totally owe me.”

The lionesses were not deterred at all by the demise of one. On the contrary, a new lioness took her place on top of the bar—funny how Leo wasn’t worried about her falling.

He turned to leave and was confronted by Reba who held up a shot in each hand. “Leo and Meena sitting in a tree. K. I. S. S. I. N. G.”

Well at least they were singing the more appropriate public version. Ignoring their offer to drink with them, Leo left and waded through the people and tables, aiming for the front door.

Meena didn’t seem perturbed at all that he took her away. On the contrary, she giggled. “And he carried her off into the sunset, or in this case moonlight, and they lived happily ever after.” Meena scissored her feet, the edge of her toes catching a tray of empty dishes and sending it tipping.

The resulting crash didn’t slow his steps. In his mind, the faster he got her out of here, the less chance for more disaster.

And the faster we’re alone.

The insidious reminder almost made him stumble.

He set her, and his mind, straight. “My rescue of your demise at the hands of gravity changes nothing. I was simply doing my job as omega. I saw a catastrophe in the making and headed it off.” Sounded plausible, if only the pesky truth about his capture of her falling hot body wasn’t because he couldn’t help himself.

“I don’t know if I’d call this a catastrophe. I mean you caught me, and didn’t drop me. Nothing got broken, you don’t need an ambulance, and now I’m getting carried princess-style by someone not related to me. That is totally awesome, as is the fact I’m close enough to you to do this.” This being nibble on his neck amidst catcalls and lewd suggestions from behind them at the bar, which faded in volume and variety as he carried her outside into the fresh air.

The cooler night air didn’t stop her hot nips and sucks at his neck. Nor did it cool his ardor, which insisted on tenting his trousers.

Were this any other woman, Leo might have allowed himself to enjoy the caresses. But this was Arik’s cousin. This was a woman spoken of in a hushed tone by Hayder—who sported a panicked look whenever her name came up in conjunction with hair. This chaotic female was held in awe by the pride ladies, who said her antics were the stuff of legend.

With that kind of reputation following her, Leo should steer clear.

No. This is our woman. Kiss her back.

His inner beast didn’t care about the reasons why they shouldn’t enjoy what she offered. Good thing it was the man in control.

While Meena might prove an armful, Leo didn’t mind carrying her. It was probably safer for society at large if he did. This way he could ensure she made it back to the condo and to bed before she initiated any disasters.

Did his reluctance to let her go have to do with his enjoyment of her neck nibbling?

Never. He would never stoop to such a thing.

Would he?

He tried to distract himself from the antics of her mouth by talking. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to not drink like a sailor in public?”

“My mother is an uptight prude whose idea of a good time involves needlepoint and making homemade jam. I prefer to live a little. And, besides, where was the harm? I was having a good time. I paid for the drinks up front. I didn’t throw up on anyone. I’d say things were going fine.”

“You fell off the bar.”

“Did I? Or did I notice a certain hunky man approach and decide to test his reflexes?”

“You did not purposely fall.”

“If you say so, Pookie.” She punctuated her assent with a suck of the skin on his neck.

“Why do you persist in calling me Pookie? My name is Leo.”

“Leo is what everyone else calls you. I want my own special name. I choose Pookie. Do you like it? I think the nickname suits you because you’re just so big and cuddly.”

Appalled, he gaped at her. “I am not cuddly.” On the contrary, he preferred to watch movies alone, in his chair.

She snuggled her cheek against his shoulder. “You are totally cuddly. And cute. You also have a great butt.”

He did? And no, he did not allow his chest to swell at her praise. “I think you’re drunk.”

“I might be a little tipsy, but I’m not blind. You are hot. Even if you weren’t my mate, I’d totally go after your sweet ass.”

“We are not mates.”

“Yet.”

“Ever.” And was it him, or did this conversation have a déjà vu feel to it?

“Playing hard to get. I like it.”

“I am not playing. I mean it. I’m not interested in pursuing a relationship.”

“Whatever.
Pookie.
” She said it with a mocking inflection before returning to her exploration of his neck.

Deciding that arguing wasn’t achieving a thing, he kept walking.

And no he didn’t put her down. Don’t ask him why. He just didn’t. Couldn’t.

Because she’s ours.

Rawr
.

He kept his roar of frustration to himself and ignored the curious gazes that followed his path as he entered the condo and strode straight to an elevator.

Someone cleared their throat, but before they could speak, he growled. “Not a word. Not. One. Single. Word. For those who feel a need to know,” felines being curious creatures, “I am putting our inebriated guest to bed.”

Meena released her latch on his skin long enough to shout, “Do not disturb! I’m getting lucky tonight.”

He closed his eyes and sighed.

Titters followed, cut off only because the elevator doors slid shut behind them. “Was that really necessary?” No hiding his exasperation. And did she look suitably chastened by his glare?

Nope. Not one bit.

An impish tilt to her lips rendered her peek at him utterly adorable. He fought her allure with a stern mien.

“Don’t be grumpy, Pookie.”

He was not grumpy. He was being patiently stoic. Big difference. “You insinuated we would be sleeping together.”

“Aren’t we?” Again, she tried an innocent flutter of lashes.

“No.”

Her turn to sigh. “A shame. But I won’t take it back. A girl’s got her reputation to maintain. Besides, I told Reba and Zena I’d get you into my bed.”