Page 43 of Taken By the Pack

I roll my eyes. “Shut up.”

He sniffs dramatically. “And here I thought I was smelling something decent. But nope. Burned sausage.”

I point the fork at him. “They’re not burned.”

“Yet.”

I flip him off and turn back to the pan, but I’m hyper-aware of him behind me, close enough that his scent wraps around me, making me lightheaded. My stomach clenches, just for a second, but then the moment passes.

So, the suppressants are working again.

Thank fuck.

For a second there last night, I thought—well, doesn’t matter now.

I settle, focus on my task, try to act normal. I scrape the spatula under one of the sausages to check the crispiness, and then remove the pan from the stove. I glance over at the sink. The drip is still going, and it sets my teeth on edge.

Jake follows my gaze. “That thing been doing that for a while?”

“Two days.”

“Want me to look at it?”

I sigh, shifting on my feet. “There’s a toolbox under the sink. If you wanna play handyman, be my guest.”

He grins like I just handed him a damn present. “You’re too good to me.”

“Just fix the damn sink.”

He crouches down, pulling open the cabinet. I hear tools clanking as he rummages through them. “You ever think about just replacing this thing? Feels like you’re fighting a losing battle.”

“Maybe. But I’m stubborn.”

“No shit.”

I turn, watching him get to work, his broad shoulders stretching under his shirt as he shifts under the sink. His voice is muffled when he speaks. “I ran into Callum earlier. He’s got a new puppy.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Cutest little thing. Almost made me wanna get one.”

I smirk. “Jake Marshall, dog owner? I don’t see it. Also, isn’t that a little ironic?”

“Fuck off.” He chuckles. “I’d be a great dog dad. It’s practice for when I have cubs someday.”

I laugh, shaking my head as I go back to the stove. The kitchen is warm, the kind of cozy that makes me relax just a little.

Then it happens.

Out of fucking nowhere.

A sharp, liquid heat lances through me, curling low in my belly, and I gasp. What?—

Oh, fuck. It’s happening again.

I grip the edge of the sink, knuckles white. My body is on fire, every nerve ending flaring to life, my head spinning.

No, no, no. This isn’t supposed to be happening. I took my suppressants. I was fine.

---