Page 8 of Pack Down Bad

ChapterFive

Percy

Belle.

Eternal gratitude to Rhys for saying her name as soon as he throws open the door so that I don’t have to wait a single second to know the name behind the sweet scent that makes my nostrils flare.

The smell of cinnamon is overwhelming in the best way, speaking to something instinctual inside of me. While there’s a hint of a burning aroma underlying, signaling that this omega was recently distressed, it’s starting to fade away.

I hate the thought of her spending even a single minute of her life in distress. The thought makes my chest tighten. Rhys seems to have made things better somehow, the burnt smell lingering but not all-consuming.

Looking at Knox, I wonder if he can sense it too. He looks like he’s in pain, and I worry for a moment that means his reaction to her isn’t the same as mine.

But we’re a pack, so I know deep down that if she’s my mate, she’s his, too.

That also goes for Rhys, the third member of our pack, who is standing behind Belle doing a happy dance, confirming he’s on the same page as me, at least.

Knox, on the other hand, doesn’t appear to be as giddy about finding our scent match. His shoulders tense as his nostrils flare, breathing in the delicious scent that I hope is seeping into every inch of this cabin.

I watch as he stares down the little pink-haired goddess standing in our doorway. The air between them crackles with something unspoken, a charged silence that makes my skin prickle.

She’s average height, but her delicate features make her seem smaller, somehow. Still, there’s an undeniable strength in the way she holds herself, her gaze unwavering as it locks with his.

Her presence pulls at something in my core, drawing me to her like a magnet. I can feel the urge to move closer, to bridge the distance between us, but I force myself to stay planted. I don’t want to risk making the wrong move and scaring her away.

There’s an intensity in her gaze that both calms and unsettles me, and I can’t tell if it’s the quiet power she exudes or if I’m simply losing control.

We gave up hope of ever finding an omega. There was a time when we were signed up with every match-making service we could find that offered to help established packs find omegas compatible with them. We made countless trips into the city to see if we’d find chemistry with the omegas we were set up to meet at various events.

But it all started to feel like a chore, especially since we aren’t exactly without companionship, despite how much time we spend out here in our home up the base of the mountain. We always have each other, the three of us as close as any pack of alphas could hope to be.

Living secluded in our cabin most of the year doesn’t exactly make for a glorious social life. Rhys is really the only one of us who even cares to leave at all.

I find comfort in the stillness, the way the days blend together in a peaceful rhythm, though some days I’ve wondered if it’s too monotonous a way to spend a lifetime.

Our pack has felt like home since the moment we all came together years ago. We’ve built something that’s more than just a group of men playing roommates while they wait and hope for an omega to come along and make them whole.

But something has shifted since Belle walked through that door. This morning I woke up, feeling just as complete with my pack as I have every day for years.

So why does looking at her make me feel like I’ve found my missing piece?

Taking a deep breath, I slowly make my way closer to her. Our Belle. Our Omega.

“It’s nice to meet you, sweetheart. I’m Percy, and that scruffy guy over there is Knox. Can I get you something to drink? A blanket? A snack?”

My heart. My soul. She can have it all.

Omegas need to be taken care of. It’s their core instinct. And there’s nothing in the world that I want as much as I want to take care of her. The thought of her needing me, of her depending on me, fills me with a sense of purpose I never thought I’d find.

She shakes her head silently, her eyes moving back and forth between me and Knox, before taking in the cabin. Her gaze moves from us to the flames in the fireplace.

I wonder if she likes to read. I could sit her in my lap and read over her shoulder. I imagine the quiet intimacy of it—the soft rustle of pages turning while I bask in the steady comfort of her presence.

Fuck, the idea of that has my knot swelling my pants.

As if she can read the inappropriate thoughts in my head, her eyes widen. But that’s impossible.

Which means she’s realizing exactly what this is. What this means.

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