He was sitting in the leather chair behind his desk, one foot rested over the thigh of the other leg. Looking cool and relaxed, he stared at her so intently it was unnerving.
Bree lifted a brow. “You wanted to see me?”
“Close the door.” Damn, that authoritative tone hit her right in her core.
She shut the door without moving her gaze from his … because looking away from a predator that dangerous when you were locked in its sights would just be plain fucking stupid. Pallas cats could never be described as stellar members of the shifter community, but wolverines? Well, they stole, lied, gambled, and started fights over pure bullshit. Why? Because they could.
Positively fearless, they’d fight to the bitter end and were renowned for their berserker rages. You didn’t piss off a wolverine unless you had a morbid interest in being unceremoniously beaten within an inch of your life. Given the unrivalled scale of their madness and the fact that they’d easily win a “Most Sadistic Executioner of the Year” award, it was unsurprising that Vinnie used Alex as an interrogator.
He’d turned down the Alpha’s offer to join his ranks, however, claiming he didn’t need an official status to feel significant. Alex was a wild card, but he followed Vinnie’s lead. To an extent. She suspected that Alex would never have a true allegiance to anyone other than whomever he took as his mate.
Right then, she studied his features, trying to get some inkling of what this was about, but he gave nothing away. It was said that the eyes were the windows to the soul. Not in Alex’s case. Though those dark orbs might harden or glitter with emotion, it was rarely possible to detect just what emotion it was.
The guy was so tightly controlled, she wondered if even her omega-senses would struggle to detect his emotions. Bree didn’t read a person unless they consented. Otherwise, it was an invasion of their privacy—especially since, unlike the other omegas in her pride, she could pick up people’s thoughts when she tapped into their emotions.
It really wasn’t as fun as it sounded. Hearing another’s voice in her head grated on every part of her. It felt as if a sharp pen viciously scratched the words into her mind, the sound so piercing she was surprised her ears didn’t bleed.
“I heard from Mila that you got intercepted by three guys this morning outside the barbershop,” Alex said, referring to his sister. “Who were they?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, hoping to quickly get this over with so she could go home, change into her pjs, and die peacefully in her sleep. “The talker introduced himself as John Jones, but I don’t think that was his real name. He didn’t introduce his friends. They were hyenas. If they’re part of a clan, they didn’t say which one.”
“Mila described them for me, but they don’t sound familiar. What did they want?”
“A way to contact Paxton.”
Alex stilled. “Paxton?”
She nodded. “Jones wasn’t buying that he was dead or that I didn’t know his whereabouts.”
“Did they threaten you?”
“No. They weren’t even remotely uncivil. Just persistent and irritating.”
“Have you reported it to Vinnie yet?”
“No. I’ll call him later.”
Alex drummed his fingers on his desk. “It doesn’t say good things about the hyenas that they want to speak with Paxton. I gave Greg the descriptions of them that Mila gave me. If the hyenas turn up here, they won’t get inside. If you see them again, you call me.” It was nothing short of an order.
Bree almost sighed. She honestly didn’t know why he thought she’d bow to his will and obey him. It was like he was new here.
When it came to work matters, she did as he ordered—he was her boss, after all. But outside of Pot of Gold? Nu-uh.
Feline omegas weren’t weak and low-ranked. They were an equal blend of dominant and submissive. And, for a reason no one could explain, they couldn’t be forced to submit by anyone—not even alphas. So, yeah, she could hold her own against dominant males just fine.
Bree preferred not to waste energy arguing with them, though. She often just nodded, pretended to agree with them … and then went off and did whatever she wanted. It was more satisfying to win the psychological war and make their heads explode. So she looked Alex right in the eyes and lied. “Sure.”
That dark gaze narrowed. “I’m serious, Bree.”
“Yeah, I’m sensing that. Now, if that’s all …”
“No, it’s not.”
Her heartbeat kicked up as he pushed to his feet. The hardwood floor didn’t even creak beneath his shoes as he stalked toward her—every stride fluid, slow, and purposeful. Then he was towering over her, making all her nerve-endings tingle in anticipation.
Not once in her life had she felt such a powerful, intoxicating draw to another person. Her body never felt more alive than when she was around Alex. Seriously, the amount of sexual energy that danced between them was insane. It was just chemicals, though, wasn’t it? Chemicals fizzled out. The attraction would fade eventually, right?