Omega Bound Chapter 297

Rhonda

We stumble into the restaurant like a parade no one asked for. The hostess takes one look at us, four tipsy grandmas and a white-haired alpha who looks like he’s been dragged out of a crypt, and I swear she’s about to say we’re full, sorry. Jill beats her to it, flashing her most respectable smile. “Table for five, sweetheart. Somewhere sturdy.”

They seat us in the corner, probably hoping we won’t scare off paying customers. Good luck with that.

Mikhail sits stiff as a board at the end of the table, shoulders bunched like he’s about to be executed instead of handed a menu. Suki slides in right next to him, close enough that her perfume practically drowns him. “You ever had mozzarella sticks?” she purrs, leaning on his arm.

He blinks at her. “Mozzarella what?”

“Cheese sticks, baby,” she says, waving down the waiter. “Get us four orders of those to start. He needs fattening up.”

Marla’s already flagging the poor kid too, pointing at random sections. “Nachos. Chicken wings. Fries. Bring it all. We’ll share.”

“We never share,” Jill mutters, adjusting her glasses. “And we don’t need to order half the menu.”

“Salad and whiskey,” Jill tells the waiter primly when he reaches her. Then she sighs and adds, “Extra ranch for the table.”

I kick back in my chair, grinning. “See, this is why I brought you all along. Balance. Jill pretends we’re respectable, Marla handles bulk orders, and Suki…” I glance at Suki, who’s practically feeding Mikhail water from her glass. “Well, she handles morale.”

Mikhail looks like he wants the floor to swallow him whole. “In my old pack,” he says slowly, “she-wolves did not behave this way.”

Suki laughs, tipping her head back so her earrings jangle. “Your old pack sounds boring.”

“Oppressive,” I correct with a smirk. “There’s a difference. Welcome to progress, sugar.”

The waiter flees to put in the order, and we immediately start on the wine Marla demanded before we sat down.

“So,” Marla says, propping her chin in her hand. “What’s the plan, Rhonda? We get north, sniff around for Mikhail’s old pack, and what? Just waltz in and say surprise, daddy’s home?”

Mikhail’s jaw ticks, his gaze fixed on the tabletop. “If they survived my brother, they’ll know what I am.”

That makes me swallow, because for all our antics, I keep catching him looking fragile under the mess of hair and hollow cheeks. But before I can say something heartfelt, Suki cuts in, stroking his arm. “And in the meantime, we’re keeping you fed, groomed, and entertained.”

His ears actually go pink. Jill groans. “Suki, for heaven’s sake, let the man breathe.”

Suki grins wickedly. “Oh, he’s breathing just fine.”

The food arrives in waves. Mountains of greasy glory. Nachos steaming, fries salted, wings dripping in sauce. Mikhail eyes the spread like it might attack him.

“Eat,” I order, sliding a plate in front of him. “Doctor Rhonda prescribes calories, and lots of ’em.” I let out a small burp from the side of my mouth toward Marla. “I need a margarita!”

“Oooooohhh Margaritas!” Suki yells, waving her arm out wildly. Mikhail winces.

She got into the drugs again.

Mikhail picks up a fry, sniffs it, and mutters, “This feels like a punishment worse than captivity.”

I licked hot sauce off my fingers. “Sweetheart, dessert hasn’t even hit the table yet.”

Suki took a mozzarella stick, bit the end off, then shoved the gooey half toward his mouth. “Open up.”

He jerked back, ears going pink. “This is degrading.”

“Degrading is starving in a cell for ten years,” she shot back. “This is living.”

Jill made a strangled noise. “Suki, let the man eat in peace.”

“Peace is boring,” Suki said, feeding him the cheese anyway. He grimaced, chewed like he was choking down poison, and muttered, “Grease. Too much grease.”

Marla raised her glass, grinning. “That’s the spirit.”

I told myself I wasn’t jealous, that it was just Suki being Suki, but the way her hands lingered on his arm had my hackles up. I drowned it with another sip of margarita.

By the time the plates are cleared, we’re all buzzing. Suki’s got her chin propped on Mikhail’s shoulder now, Marla’s telling the story of the time she out-drank three bikers in Reno, and Jill’s pretending she isn’t enjoying herself.

Then the bill arrives.

It lands on the table like a death sentence. We all stare at the number, blinking through the haze of wine.

Marla whistles. “Well. Guess we can’t just run this time.”

Jill gasps. “Marla!”

I wave them off, digging into my purse. “Relax, ladies. I’ve got it covered.” I slap a shiny black credit card on the billfold. “Big daddy Alpha’s picking up the tab.”

Three pairs of eyes snap to me. Even Mikhail looks startled.

“Rhonda,” Jill says, voice low and scandalized. “That’s stealing.”

I grin, pouring the last of the wine into my glass. “No, ma’am. It’s not. I won this fair and square.”

Suki squints at me. “Won it how?”

“Poker game.” I sip my wine. “The housekeeper thought she could bluff me. She was wrong.”

“The pack housekeeper?” Jill sputters. “You can’t just take Alpha Thane’s credit card because you beat her at cards!”

“She shouldn’t have bet it if she wasn’t ready to lose,” I say sweetly. “That’s not stealing. That’s skill.”

Marla howls with laughter, slapping the table. “Oh, Rhonda, you’re my hero.”

Mikhail stares at me like I’ve sprouted horns. “Where I come from, theft was punished by flogging.”

I clink my glass against his untouched water. “Good thing you’re not in charge, white wolf.”

Suki leans into him again, voice sultry. “Besides, wouldn’t you rather be punished by us?”

Jill groans into her hands. Marla nearly chokes on her own laughter. Mikhail mutters something about preferring prison, which only makes us laugh harder.

The waiter takes the card without blinking, and when it clears, we all cheer like we’ve won the lottery.

“See?” I say, smug as can be. “Alpha Thane just bought us dinner. Consider it hazard pay.”

“Hazard for who?” Jill mutters.

“For him,” I grin, topping off my empty glass with the dregs. “He’ll never know what hit him.”

The waiter barely made it two steps before Marla was lifting her glass. “To Alpha Thane,” she declared, sloshing wine on the table. “May his wallet never know peace.”

We all clinked glasses. Even Mikhail raised his water, though he muttered, “In my pack, thieves were flogged.”

Suki leaned across him, nearly dumping red wine in his lap. “In our day, they’re just pretty and persuasive.” She winked, and the poor wolf looked like he was questioning every life choice that led him here.

Jill sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “We should leave before the police get involved.”

“No,” Marla said firmly. “Dessert. Something with fire.”

“Fire?” Mikhail repeated, startled.

And then the waiter rolled up with a tray holding some poor flaming confection, sparks flying, alcohol crackling blue. Mikhail shot to his feet like he was under attack, chair scraping hard against the floor. Suki yelped when he nearly knocked her out of the booth.

“Sit down, you fool,” Jill hissed. “It’s baked Alaska.”

He glared at the flame like it might bite him. “Food should not be on fire.”

“Everything’s better on fire,” Marla said cheerfully, scooping a chunk onto her plate. “Except your pants.”

I laughed so hard I nearly tipped my glass. “Sit down, white wolf. Dessert’s supposed to light you up.”

Mikhail lowered himself back into his chair, stiff as ever, glaring at the plate Marla shoved toward him. He poked the scorched meringue like it might explode. “This is barbaric.”

“You survived captivity, sugar,” I teased, forking up a bite. “You can survive cake.”

By the time dessert was gone, we were louder, drunker, and the staff was praying for us to leave. Jill tried to herd us toward the door, muttering about dignity.

We made it three steps before Suki tripped in her heels and toppled straight into Mikhail’s arms. He caught her out of reflex, steadied her like she weighed nothing.

And something ugly twisted in my chest.

She giggled against him, brushing her hair back. “Strong, aren’t you?”

He looked horrified, holding her at arm’s length like she was diseased. “You reek of alcohol.”

“Compliment accepted,” she purred.

I barked out a laugh sharp enough to hide the twinge in my gut. “Careful, Suki. You fall on him again, I’ll start charging dowry.”

Marla howled, Jill scolded me, and Suki just smirked, clinging tighter to his arm as we stumbled into the parking lot.

That’s when Marla’s phone rang. She answered on speaker, because of course she did. “What do you mean you won’t deliver without the license?”

I groaned. “Not this again.”

“Tell him to check his email,” Jill hissed.

“I sent him the forgery,” I said, snatching the phone from Marla. “Listen here, you little shit, if you don’t bring that liquor shipment, I’ll come down there myself, find you, and claw your eyeballs out of your head!”

The line went dead.

“Problem solved,” I said, handing the phone back.

“That’s not solving,” Jill snapped. “That’s threatening.”

“Same thing,” I shrugged. “Effective either way.”

At the car, Jill tried to confiscate the keys, insisting none of us should drive. I waved her off. “Relax. I’m steady as a saint.”

“You’re slurring,” she said.

“Slurring with style,” I corrected, yanking open the driver’s door. Suki shoved Mikhail into the backseat beside her, Marla piled in after, and Jill groaned as she buckled in like we were headed for the gallows.

I revved the engine, grinning like a devil. “Next stop, north. Buckle up, babies. We’re on a noble mission.”

Mikhail muttered darkly, “This is worse than prison.”

I laughed until my ribs hurt. “Get used to it, white wolf. You’re ours now.”