Page 41 of The Librarian and Her Alphas

Even though it’s been weeks, I can’t get them off my mind. Damon’s smoldering gaze, Max’s flirty smile, and Gunner’s dominant touch all linger in my thoughts, and I can’t seem to shake them.

I force a forkful of spaghetti into my mouth, but chewing feels like a chore, the food resembling wet yarn in my mouth.

To make matters worse, I’ve been experiencing a strange sensation for the past few weeks—like I’m being watched. I get the distinct impression that someone is observing me. The alphas weren’t too happy after I turned them down and told them I didn’t want to be their omega.

I hope they’re not following me.

Even going to work, I’m extra cautious and wary of the possibility that any of the alphas might be waiting in the parking lot or could show up at the library again.

If they are following me, I don’t understand why they would be interested in me.

There’s nothing I can offer them that they wouldn’t find in another omega. It’s not easy to erase the trauma I feel from my old pack. They abused me and shattered my self-esteem for years, resulting in me not feeling worthy enough to seek love and acceptance from a new pack.

Being out of the home intensifies the feeling of being watched.

Every time I go for a walk or head to the store to grab a few things for the apartment, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My senses are already heightened, but not being able to pinpoint what’s causing this unease makes me even more anxious.

My doorbell rings, jolting me out of my thoughts.

It rings again, and I freeze, my anxiety spiking. I’m not expecting any guests. If it were one of my neighbors, they would have just knocked. I push my cold food away, get up from the table, and head to the front door. Pressing the speaker button on my intercom system, I want to check who it is before letting them in.

“Hello?”

“Hi there,” a female voice replies. “I have a delivery for a Miss Lena.”

“Oh, of course,” I say with a relieved sigh, buzzing her in. I really need to calm down and stop freaking out over nothing.

Moments later, I open the door to find the smiling face of a petite woman.

“These are for you,” she says, handing me a bouquet, a box of chocolates, a bottle of perfume, and a small box tied with a ribbon.

“Oh!” I exclaim in surprise, taking in all the gifts. “Thank you!”

“You are one lucky girl,” she says, gazing dreamily at the presents.

I sign for the delivery and close the door, overwhelmed by the gifts now cluttering my dining room table. But I quickly feel suspicious.

There’s a card attached to the flowers, and I open it:Thinking of you, beautiful Lena.

Part of me is touched that they knew where to find me and went to such trouble to send me something, even though I ultimately rejected them.

I don’t want any ties to them, so I swiftly walk across the kitchen floor and toss the flowers into the trash. I don’t want them in my house. And if the alphas are watching me, I don’t want them to get the wrong idea when they see flowers in a vase on my coffee table.

I walk back across the kitchen to grab the box of chocolates to throw away, but I hesitate when I pick them up. They’re Belgian chocolates with a truffle center—delicious, no doubt—so I set them back down on the table, deciding to keep them as a treat for myself. I glance guiltily at my bowl of uneaten spaghetti.

Inside the box with the ribbon is a pair of earrings and a necklace. The earrings look like they could be diamonds, but I’m not sure. They look expensive, so I can’t bear to throw away something so beautiful. I set the box aside with the perfume.

Seeing all these gifts sends a pang of loneliness through my heart. I hope the alphas will move on.

Despite my best efforts, I can’t stop thinking about them, and by the looks of things, they haven’t stopped thinking about me either. I should want them to move on, but a tiny, desperate part of me feels warm and fuzzy.

The rest of the afternoon passes slowly as I putter about my apartment, washing dishes and vacuuming. I treat myself to a few chocolates for dessert.

After a long, luxurious bath to wind down for the evening, I head into my room and drop the towel after drying myself. The box of jewelry catches my eye, and curiosity overcomes me. The diamond necklace looks big and magnificent as I clasp it around my neck. Admiring it in the mirror, I don’t want to take it off just yet as the gem settles between my naked breasts. Feeling like a million bucks, I put on the earrings, admiring how they look as I preen in front of the mirror.

As I blow-dry my long auburn hair, I stare at the jewelry, thinking of Damon’s last words to me and the intensity in hiseyes: “I just know we’re fated to betogether.”

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