They might even get to taste the goods if the winner was willing to share.
Johnathan polished off the rest of his food.
“At least talk to him,” Frost said. “Tell him what to expect.”
“You mean terrify him into a mental breakdown.”
“No, toavoidterrifying him into a mental breakdown. He’s a scientist. He knows how to think rationally. He worked with those betas in the Utah Facility, and he wasn’t afraid of Nash Kelli. At least if he knows what’s going to happen, he can be prepared.”
Prepared?
That was a joke.
A couple of other males came into the room with trays of food. And every single one of them sat facing the door as if they could see through the walls to a hidden treasure that lay in wait.
Craige, Jonathan’s First, met his gaze, then slid his attention back to the doorway.
Frost picked up his tray and offered to take Jonathan’s.
“I’ve got it.” He walked with Frost to the dish bins set on carts near the door. At his father’s estate, the deltas and omegas managed housekeeping, supply order, finances, and every other important detail his father didn’t handle himself.
Betas weren’t trustworthy beyond assignments in the field, defending the territory, and working surveillance. Jonathan had to admit, most betas like himself weren’t as smart as the lower ranks and no one was as cunning as a delta in strategics. Or as diplomatic as omegas in the face of disputes between Clans or packs.
The men at the table exchanged words and obscene gestures.
Frost grumbled under his breath. “You’re going to have a mess on your hands when Dr. Dante wakes up and sets foot out that door.”
Lucky for Johnathan, some situations weren’t meant to be handled with diplomacy.
“We’ll see.” Jonathan walked over to where the other betas sat. Each one turned their attention toward him and then immediately away.
Craige continued to stare at the doorway as if nothing else existed. Arousal, rage, want. It bled from his skin like cheap cologne.
Jonathan stepped into Craige’s line of sight.
“I’m only going to say it once.” Jonathan held Craige’s gaze. “If any of you so much as bumps into Dr. Dante in the hall, I will end you.”
Craige grinned. Blood lined his teeth where his canines had torn through his gums. “Will you at least let us watch when you tie him?”
Jonathan planted his hands on the table and leaned in until he was nose to nose with the other beta. “I’m not tying him.”
Craige’s eyebrows came to a vee over his nose. “But your father would want yo—”
Jonathan snatched Craige by the throat and dragged him over the table, sending food, drinks, and silverware in all directions.
“Now, I want you to listen.” He pinned Craige’s head to the table. “And listen very carefully.” He put his lips close to Craige’s ear. “You weren’t my life coach when I was ten, and you sure as fuck aren’t my life coach now. So, if you don’t stop trying to micromanage my life, I will strip you of your rank, empty your bank account, and remove you from my meta-pack.”
A beta willing to challenge their team leader would have brushed off a threat. It meant they felt the call to rule a meta-pack of their own.
If they continued, it usually ended in them scraping their broken bodies off the ground and crawling into a corner to heal. And depending on how impressed the team leader was with their efforts, they could still wind up with the opportunity to build their own meta-pack.
If they could survive blood tying those who manifested the Sarvari for the first time.
But that wasn’t Craige.
For a long time, Jonathan couldn’t figure out why Craige pushed him when he was young. Cheering him through challenges and patting him on the back when he succeeded. Doing the things Grey should have but never did for his male offspring.
Then Johnathan found the answer in how Craige watched his brothers and their sire. How the look of longing and pride warred with jealousy.