Page 2 of Power Shift

“No.”

“You’ll feel even worse tomorrow, then,” she says, helping me into a proper sitting position.

“I’m already going to feel like death. What’s a little more pain?”

“How are you going to explain your limping to Greg?”

“I’ll say that I was helping a friend in need and got a little carried away.”

She twists her mouth. “I’m not in need.”

“Don’t even try it, Clove. You’re one bad decision away from me locking you up in my closet for the foreseeable future.”

Her puffed exhale fans my face. “You only say that because you’ve gone too long without dick, Briar. And your closet is so small I’d have to become a contortionist to fit inside of it.”

“What does dick have to do with you losing your mind?”

“Everything. It haseverythingto do with it.”

Yeah, I should have thought that question through.

I’ve never been with a pack before. Not the way Clover has. Every alpha I’ve dated in the past shared my dream of finding one, but we just . . . never could. They were either too busy to make it—and me—a priority, or there just wasn’t anyone around who fit what we wanted whenever we got the nerve to start the search.

My heart has always ached for my scent-matched pack. My mates. With every failed attempt to find them, my hope has dwindled.

With Greg, I’ve come as close as I ever have before. If dinner goes well Friday night, I might actually have a chance of meeting his packmates and finding the closest to a scent-matched pack as I fear I’ll ever have.

“I’ve been doing pretty alright on my own, haven’t I?” I ask a bit too self-consciously.

The other omegas in the class have already started filtering out of the room, leaving scuffing sneakers and light chatting in their wake. I’m in desperate need of a shower, but I would prefer to go once the locker room isn’t so busy. The less judgmental omegas in one place, the better.

Clover leans against the handle of my bike, her perfectly smooth, pale skin glistening with sweat in an almost pretty way. Like instead of sweat, she’s dripping liquid diamonds.

“You’ve never done a bad job of taking care of yourself, Bee. Alphas are more work than they’re worth sometimes. Betas are where it’s at, I’m pretty sure. Do you have their box checked on those fancy apps of yours?”

“You’re pretty sure? That’s not a real boost of confidence.”

“They can’t be worse than knotting, growling alphas who pitch fits every time you don’t let them gnaw on your neck like a bone.”

I choke on a laugh, carefully swinging my leg off the bike. When I wobble, I lean against Clover and wince at the burn already growing in my hamstrings.

“You should put that on a T-shirt.”

“You know what? I just might.”

With Clover supporting nearly all my weight, we finally head for the door. We’re the last ones out, and I release a sigh of relief.

“So, tell me about Greg’s pack. You’ve kept all the juicy details close to your chest, haven’t you? I feel like I know nothing,” she says when I flop down on the bench in the empty locker room and stretch my leg with a groan.

The pain has travelled from my hips all the way down to the tips of my toes, and as I stretch, it only gets worse. In a really twisted way, it almost feels good.Almost.

“Well, there isn’t really anything to share yet. There’s only three of them, including Greg, and they work for the same bank he does. He speaks really highly of them.”

“Well, obviously. They’re his packmates. He isn’t going to shit-talk them right before you meet them. Pack loyalty is insane. They choose each other first every single time.”

Clover tosses me the gym bag I brought with me and then strips out of her sweaty shirt, exchanging it for a tight tank top. Her bitterness is understandable after her experience with her last pack.

I force myself to walk to the mirrors above the long marble countertop and use half a tube of deodorant beneath my arms. She’s already watching me in the mirror when I look at her.

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