Page 13 of Welcome to Bone Town
Roman clears his throat. “Where exactly did you find the knife?”
“On the east side of Dr. Whitlock’s tent.”
“Have your guys move her tent closer to mine and Archer’s,” he says through gritted teeth, shoulders riding up with tension.
“What? That’s entirely unnecessary.” Deep down, I actually appreciate the concern, but acts of kindness don’t come without a cost from people like Roman Slate. And I’m not sure I want to pay that bill when it’s due.
“You’re an unbonded omega,” he snarls. “The only one on this dig. You’re defenseless and a knife was found by your tent.”
“How do you know I’m defenseless?” Okay. Now I’m mad.
He raises his eyebrows. Before I can overthink it, I sweep his legs out from under him, just like I learned to in the self-defense class I took last year. Or rather, I try to. I make him stumble, but he catches himself right away, and the force rebounds on me. I lose my footing and fall on my ass.
He glares down at me with his arms crossed like he proved his point. Bear growls, and Archer takes my elbow and helps me up.
“Are you alright?” Archer asks.
Bear steps up to Roman so they're nearly chest-to-chest. “Hurt an omega—hell, hurt anyone—on my watch again and?—”
“Sheattackedme,” Roman says, voice level and calm.
The two men are of equal height, but that's where the similarities end. Where Roman is all lean muscle and sharp lines, Bear is wider with a barrel chest I’m not sure I could wrap my arms fully around. Though, even without the thick cords of muscle Roman is sporting, you can tell that Bear is incredibly strong. Farm-boy strong my roommate used to call it. A man who could lift you up with one hand and carry a bale of hay in the other without breaking a sweat.
“I’m fine,” I say, eager to get them both to back down. For a moment, Roman’s gaze flicks to mine and something like regret pinches his features, but it’s gone in a flash.
“Have her things moved,” he says, throwing back the tent flap and stomping out.
12
Sweat beads on my neck, rolling down my spine to further wet my already drenched shirt. We’ve been here over a week now, but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this heat. The heat, or the dull sense of dread that’s stayed with me ever since Bear found that weapon outside Cora’s tent.
I may not want an omega of my own, but I don’t want anyone to get hurt. Bear’s team did as I asked and moved her tent so it butts up to mine, which was some small relief. But not enough. There’s no way Cora Whitlock could defend herself if something were to really happen to her.
I smirk at the memory of that little sweep move she did. It may have taken down an average beta, but she’s no match for an alpha of my size. Seeing some of that fire from her had my cock perking up. Feisty women turn me on, and Dr. Whitlock is fierce, beautiful, and smart—if a little awkward at times, which I find irritatingly adorable.The whole package really. If I were looking for an omega… but I’m not.
In my youth, I, of course, dreamed of finding my pack and an omega to center it, but those dreams evaporated when I learned how risky it can be to fall for an omega. The loss of an omega isn’t like a normal break up for an alpha. It’s much, much worse. I’ve seen firsthand the damage it can do, and I have no intention to put myself in that position like my brother did.
Looking at Cora now, though, some of those feelings of longing try to bust out of the cage I shoved them into years ago. I’m not old, but I’m certainly not young anymore. And, let's face it, it's in my biology to want an omega and a pack, even if it isn’t in the cards for me. I won’t settle for anything less than a scent match, and I have no desire for that either. People lose all sense when they’re scent-matched. They drop all their priorities, change their values, act like unhinged animals. No, that’s not for me.
“Ho! Over here!” I’m whipped back to the present by the excited shout coming from the far edge of the excavation area. Curious, I make my way toward the gathering crowd to see what they’ve found.
Dr. Whitlock is already there by the time I arrive. She's on her hands and knees, bent over a section of sand with an excavation brush, carefully but urgently uncovering something.
An audible groan nearly escapes me. I may not want a bonded omega, but I’m still an alpha. Hell, I’m still a man. And seeing her on all fours with that plump ass in the air is nearly more than I can handle. Some of her long hairhas escaped its ponytail and is blowing in the wind. I could hold it for her. Wrap it around my hand nice and taut. Preferably while I’m slamming into her from behind, making that luscious ass jiggle on each stroke.
Fuck. What is wrong with me?
Surreptitiously adjusting my semi-hard cock, I move next to Cora and crouch down beside her. She doesn’t acknowledge me, simply continues to reveal whatever this artifact is. She’s good at this. Meticulous and careful. I can’t really see what she’s uncovering from here, but soon enough she has it free, sitting back on her heels, marveling at the prize clutched in her small hands.
“Oh my goddess.” She breathes. “Oh my goddess!”
“What? What is it?” My eagerness shows in my voice. This is the first time we’ve found anything new in days.
Cora carefully holds up a metal item. It’s clearly a box, albeit an oddly shaped one. It has six sides, and there don’t seem to be any hinges that would indicate that it opens. There are circles engraved on the top, filling the entire surface and laid out in a fish scale pattern. Each circle is made up of a mosaic of different metals, seemingly in no discernable order. I’ve seen similar items before. In fact, I think it's?—
“A puzzle box.” Both Cora and I say at the same time. She looks up at me with excitement glinting in her eyes. The whole world narrows to her smile, and it’s like it’s just the two of us, sharing a secret, a connection that no one else shares.
No.No. Cora and I don’t share anything other than professional interest. The same as with the rest of the team. That’s it.
