Dance Around - Susi Hawke Page 0,22

over my head, elbows pointed toward the ceiling.

Facing him, I made a show of twisting at the waist from right to left before innocently yawning while I scratched my chest. If my hands slowly ran down my torso while my hips jutted forward to proudly display my morning wood, it was only an accidental display by a half-awake alpha. Sounded good to me, anyway.

I winked as I strutted past him on my way to the bathroom, chuckling aloud when my clothes flew through the open door and landed on the vanity while I took my first piss of the day. Since I actually did want to talk to him, I decided not to push my luck and made short work of washing up and getting dressed.

When I came back out with minty fresh breath thanks to the brand-new toothbrush and paste by the sink, Gil was sitting on his suitcase, bouncing up and down while he tried to close the zipper. "Need a hand, Blondie?"

He blinked a couple times before nodding. "Sure. Um… thanks." Frustrated, he lifted his knees to his chest to avoid my touch while I helped him out.

Shaking my head, I held my palms up as I backed towards the bed, sat down on the end, and put my shoes on. "I don't know what happened between falling asleep and right now, but can we back up a few steps and have a civil conversation? I didn't expect flowers and poetry this morning, but I was hoping to extend the cease-fire, at least."

This time his blush didn't vanish immediately. "Sorry. You're not wrong. You helped me out last night and didn't make a big deal out of it. Plus, it was… hotter than I might've expected. And I did promise to talk." He paused and took a deep breath, shaking his head in disgust. "I got a call from Morty this morning, so now I’m in a foul mood."

Hoping to put him at ease, I bent over and focused on tying my shoe. "Did COME decide to err on the wrong side of shifter history again?"

"Of course they did. Fuckers. They’ve decided omegas have to personally sign the mating agreements and retain a minimum of thirty percent of their dowries. Oh, and they’re lowering the age of freedom to thirty-five. Motherfucking fuckers need their asses kicked.”

He growled, looking mad enough to kill someone. “And you have it right when you say ‘shifter history.’ Do you know we are the sole group they represent with these kinds of archaic laws? The merpeople and dryads would revolt if they tried this kind of shit. And don't get me started on the magic users. The witchy chick and her snake-shifting bestie would make Sir Alfred regret being alive if he allowed them to be treated like second-class citizens."

As I reached for my other shoe, I glanced up. "That was their decision? I'm afraid to ask, but what were they thinking? And who agreed to it? Did Morty say who cast the majority votes? I'd like to know who I need to hate."

Gil lifted one of those perfectly manicured brows. "Why in the world would you be angry enough to hate them? You're an alpha. This isn't even your fight."

"You're wrong there, Blondie. I have omega brothers, remember? Only an accident of circumstance had them born into a family who doesn't support those laws. We have a leather-bound book at home with emancipation documents for every omega born to our family going back more generations than I care to count. Those documents are signed at birth."

Twisting the end of his braid around a finger, Gil studied me. "Seriously? My family has something similar. Except ours is modernized and lives in an encrypted document, updated all too often as new brood members are born."

"Seriously." Cocking my head to the side, I took a moment to phrase my words to sound as genuine as intended, rather than the blunt blather I was apparently known for. "I don't understand why it's hard to believe a young, single omega can control himself during a heat cycle. To say you can't be trusted to make your own decisions because of biology is absurd. You were pretty far gone last night, but not so far you couldn’t resist the urge to bite me."

"Imagine that." Rolling his eyes, Gil shook his head with a wry smile.

"I hear people talk about omegas being so incapacitated by their heats they can't give legal consent or manage the simplest of decisions.