Page 40 of Pack Obsession

“You mean about your coming heat?” His words softens but remains firm. One step closer. “We need to have a plan, Casey. You can’t just ignore it and hope it goes away.”

“Watch me,” I challenge, but my voice wavers. I take a step back, bumping into the bedside table. “I’ve handled most things on my own. I can handle this, too.”

His expression darkens. “That’s not how this works. Not anymore.”

“No? Because last time I checked, my life was my business.” I lift my chin, going for defiant despite the tremor in my hands.

He closes the distance between us, and my breath catches as he cups my cheek in his calloused palm. I hate how I quiver at his touch, hate how my body betrays every attempt at maintaining distance. His thumb brushes under my eye, and I realize I’m close to tears. When did that happen?

“Sugar, ignoring problems doesn’t make them disappear. Trust me, I learned that lesson the hard way in combat.” His other hand comes up, framing my face, and I’m caught in his gaze. “Lost good men because we didn’t plan, didn’t prepare. I won’t let that happen to you.”

“This isn’t combat,” I whisper, but my hands have somehow found their way to his wrists, not pushing away, just... holding on.

“No,” he agrees. “But the principle’s the same. You need to be prepared. Need to know you have support.” His thumbs tracemy cheekbones in matching rhythms that make it hard to think. “Need to know you’re not alone anymore.”

“I barely know you,” I protest weakly, even as I fight the urge to lean into his touch. “Any of you. You’re all... so much. Too much sometimes.”

“Then let’s change that.” His forehead nearly touches mine. “What do you need? To trust us?”

I close my eyes, overwhelmed by his proximity, by the gentleness in his touch that contrasts so sharply with his warrior’s ways. My mind races, trying to find solid ground in this moment that feels like stepping off a cliff. An image flashes through my mind—Axel telling me about his paintings, the way his whole demeanor changes when he talks about it, the smile he wears.

“What if...” I wet my lips, gathering courage. “What if we did something together? All of us?”

His eyebrow lifts, curiosity replacing some of the intensity in his expression. “I’m listening.”

“A painting session,” I say in a rush, my words tumbling over each other. “Something casual, fun. Axel could teach us if we need it. Just... being together without pressure or expectations.” I bite my lip. “Getting to know each other better, in a way that doesn’t involve training or... other things.”

He blinks, and I catch a flicker of hesitation cross his face. His hands slide down to my shoulders, his thumb brushing my collarbone in a way that makes me suppress a shiver.

“Oh, if you don’t like that idea…” I start to backtrack, my heart sinking.

“No, it’s good.” One hand returns to my face, and I lean into it before I can stop myself. “Unexpected, but good. I’ll talk to Nash and Axel about setting it up.”

“Tonight,” I say impulsively, needing this to happen before I lose my nerve, before I can think too hard about how much I want to be around them, despite knowing better.

A slow smile spreads across his face, transforming his features to almost playful. “Eager to spend more time with us?”

“Eager to see you make a fool of yourself with a paintbrush,” I counter, but my response isn’t as steady as I’d like. Not with him still touching me, still looking at me as though I’m something precious and wild all at once.

“I’ve handled worse weapons.”

My heart flips.

“He’s incredible,” I say softly, thinking of the way Axel loses himself when he speaks about his art, how his entire demeanor changes. “I don’t think he even knows it.”

Logan’s expression softens, and something in my chest squeezes.

“Art changed him. You should have seen him before—fucking wild, unpredictable. His demons were eating him alive.” He pauses, considering his words. “Now, painting centers him, gives him control when everything else feels chaotic. It’s like... he found his peace in colors and canvas.”

The tenderness in his voice makes my insides ache. I’ve seen glimpses of their brotherhood, but this feels deeper, more personal.

“You really care about them, don’t you?”

“They’re my family.” His steel-gray eyes hold mine. “He’s going to love having us all there tonight.”

We stand there, caught in each other’s gaze, and I stare at his lips again, just like in the woods. And look where that ended. My throat goes dry as the air seems to thicken around us.

“Well...” I swallow hard, trying to break whatever spell we’re under. “Okay, then. Sounds like a plan.” My words come out breathy, betraying my attempt at casual indifference.

---