Muscle and Bone - Mary Calmes Page 0,4

got, and leaned back against the wall.

“Seriously, why’re you hiding?”

“Because Daw, Tyne, and Colby are looking for me.”

“Those are people’s names?”

“You know they are,” he scolded.

“And which ones are they, again?” It was hard to keep up with all his suitors.

“Steel, oil, and venture capital.”

“Ah,” I said, recalling the last party a couple months back.

As an omega, no matter whose son I was, and probably more so because I was a rich man’s progeny, I was required to attend all gatherings where unmated alphas would be in attendance to see if any of them wanted to lay claim to me.

It was an antiquated custom that wasn’t going away anytime soon.

When I had moved out of the house and got my own place downtown, I had tried to skip the mandatory social interactions, and my father had threatened to make such a scene in front of everyone I worked with—which was a fate worse than death, with me trying to make detective—that I quickly gave in. But now, years later, at thirty-two, I understood how unconcerned I should have been from day one. No alpha in their right mind, no matter how rich my father was and how fat my dowry would be, wanted me. I was by no means a typical omega.

If an alpha hadn’t found their fated beta or gamma, usually between eighteen and thirty, then it became, statistically, a crapshoot that they ever would. There was a pull thing that went on, this overwhelming draw. I didn’t fully understand it, even when Ambrose tried to explain, but if they had not discovered their one true mate, who would somehow magically appear, then they would decide to settle down comfortably with an omega. A beta or gamma was a soulmate for an alpha, like my mother was to my father. There was a shared sense of building a life together, forging a path and a future. An omega, on the other hand, was an ornament.

When an alpha was in the market for an omega, they were looking first for someone to bear their children or, if the alpha and omega were of the same sex, parent the alpha’s offspring from a surrogate. Second, an alpha wanted someone with exquisite taste and style who would oversee their staff, and host as well as arrange to attend all society engagements and, of course, run their household. An omega was expected to be immaculate and represent their alpha with grace, poise and beauty. If the alpha was a member of the jarl, the whole perfect omega thing was even worse. It was all completely beyond me and always had been. My interest in being anyone’s 1950s housewife was utterly nonexistent. I had friends, though, who had been training to be perfection-in-the-flesh their entire lives.

Linden, among others, was the epitome of delicate omega beauty. Me, on the other hand, who showed up with black eyes, various cuts and contusions, and smiling with a split lip, was no one’s idea of genteel, ephemeral loveliness. I was too muscular as well. Omegas were supposed to be lithe and lean, fragile. I was the exact opposite of that. The only fun part of attending the parties was seeing the alphas recoil in horror when they met me.

“Are you listening to me?” Linden snapped his fingers in my face. “I said that the whale is here.”

“No, I was checked out. Sorry.”

He groaned miserably.

“Whale?”

“Yes. There’s a cyne here tonight, and you know you can’t find an unmated one here in the States anymore. You have to travel abroad to land one.”

“You are aware that a whale isn’t a fish, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“I mean, you land a marlin, you don’t land a whale,” I instructed, winking at him. “I feel like you should be watching more Discovery Channel.”

“God, I hate you.”

“I know,” I agreed with a smirk, “but tell me who you’re looking to catch.”

“Graeme Whitaker Davenport the Fifth.”

“Okay.” Linden spoke the name like I should know who this alpha was. I didn’t, of course, and was not at all impressed by the suffix he made sure to emphasize.

He sighed deeply, utterly beleaguered. “He’s the Earl of Wakefield and Muir.”

My scoff was fast. “You’re making that up,” I baited him. “We don’t have earls in this country. Maybe you need to watch the History Channel too.”

“Listen––”

“It all started with the Mayflower and––”

“Can you just be serious for five minutes?”

“I dunno, let’s find out. Start the timer.”

His growl was loud in the small alcove. “Graeme’s family is from England, but he