Page 8 of A Pack of Cozy

Seth walks in five minutes later, and I watch the same emotions play across his face.

"How?" he demands.

I shrug. His fists clench tightly, and I see him fighting the urge to break something. Being surrounded by our omega's scent without knowing who they are or where to find them is sheer torture. I now understand where Connor was coming from on Saturday, and wish I'd been more sympathetic. Just then, he walks into the Café, and the same distressed and wild emotions are evident on his face.

The thing is, we came into the Café yesterday evening after it had already closed, trying to salvage some inventory we didn't want to spoil. And that damn scent? It wasn't there. Connor insisted we should head straight to the Library, but the lights were off by the time we passed. I saw the librarian rushing to lock up as we drove by, all bundled up in massive coats. Now I can't help but feel frustrated. We should have just hurried to the Library instead of wasting time here.

"Fuck this." Connor storms out the door, and Seth and I share a glance before we bolt after him. He's hell-bent on reaching the Library. We fall in step, adrenaline firing us up. He shoves the door open, and we're right behind him. The scent hits us—damn it. It hangs in the air, obvious and infuriating but faint. Probably hours old, maybe even a day. We can't even ask someone because no one else is scent sensitive to our omega but us. Everyone else can smell the omega's scent when near them, but not like this, lingering hours or a day after.

Still, we spread out and check every stack just in case. It's too late. The omega isn't here today. I stop by the front desk and get some of the books I placed on hold. But not just the ones Connor forgot in his scent-induced haze. I put some of these on hold the night Connor announced he'd scented our omega.

"The Science of the omega, Scent-Sensitive Matches, The Omega and the Pack, Satisfying Your Omega?" Seth reads over my shoulder. He and Connor exchange glances. I know some prick alphas who would laugh. That's why they aren't part of my pack.

"Can we borrow these, too?" Connor asks, taking the top one and flipping through it. It's the science one, with diagrams and statistics showing omega instincts and their needs within a pack.

"Sure." I shrug.

"If we even get a chance to use this info," Seth says. He's usually the optimistic one of our group, but being exposed to scent sensitivity and unable to claim that scent has left him more dejected than I've ever seen.

"We'll find them, man," I say, bumping his shoulder with mine. "We'll find our omega."

Calliope

Mydayofshoppinghas been a therapeutic distraction. I love books. I love sharing books. But being a librarian is, at its core, a customer service position. And sometimes, it burns my little introverted heart right out. Don't get me wrong, shopping can too. But I went into Suttons Bay for a few things Dandy Stuff didn't carry, like groceries. The food from the café lasted til this morning.

It was my day off. I put in earphones, listened to an audiobook, and sipped tea while I found a few items that hadn't come with my cottage that I'd been more than overdue to buy.

Like towels.

I've been using an old sweater as a towel for the last two weeks. Plus, I've been running low on soaps and hair products. I also got a few things I didn't need but desperately wanted, like some tea and a mug for the house. My budget won't allow me to get special teas at the Café daily. As a librarian, I make just enough to keep my head above water while paying the minimum the government will allow on my student loans. As little as librarians are paid, we're required to get a master's in library science. The student loan payments are astronomical even when they're interest only. So, everything I purchase is from the clearance section. I got some good steals.

Now, my car is stuck in the snow… again. I try digging it out with the shovel I just bought. It isn't budging. My cottage is so far away, and the snow is pouring down. It started on my way back from the store. It's at least ten degrees below zero. I'm honestly not sure I can make it to my cottage. And what if I slip or injure myself? What if I get lost? It's a straight shot down the road, but visibility is extremely limited in the snow and darkness. It's not unlikely that I'll get lost in the woods. I can see the headlines in theLakeside Gazette: "New Omega Librarian Freezes to Death."

I really need to find something closer. Squinting through the downpour of snow sticking to my eyelashes, I spot a long lane that curves off to the left right next to my car. Connor's lane. The man who helped me dig my car out last time. How much of a ditz will he think I am for being unable to dig myself out again? The wind whips around me, and my knees almost buckle from the biting cold. I have no choice. It's the lane or freezing to death.

The trek up to the house is longer than I expect. My jaw drops when I come around the last bend in the lane. The house I'm looking at doesn't scream bachelor, but it does scream beautiful.

It's a large colonial with a giant porch and a cupola at the top. It's painted light green with white trim. Candles burn in every window. The trees circling the yard give it its own natural boundary.

Carefully, I climb up the wooden porch steps to the front door. At this point, the blizzard is in full force. The wind bowls around the house so hard that I clutch the door knob to keep from slipping. My nose and cheeks are numb.

My hands shake so hard that my knock is barely a tap. I stand there for a moment, wondering if anyone heard me. My arms are fully wrapped around me trying to stave off the chill.

The door opens, but it isn't Connor looking out at me. It's a different alpha. Like all alphas, he's at least six feet tall with warm umber skin, sharp brown eyes, and close-cropped hair. His muscles bulge against his lean frame under a tight-fitting, soft cotton tee with a V-neck. Gray sweatpants hang low on his hips. For one heart stopping moment, I wonder if I've found the wrong house. Then, a scent engulfs me. The scent of wood smoke and pine forests. It's so soothing that I forget the freezing-cold and just inhale.

The man who opened the door steps aside as Connor appears at the door. For a moment he stares at me, then recognition crosses his face.

"Cali? Are you okay?" His voice is low and urgent as he pushes past his pack mate, pulling me into the warm room. My body trembles. Connor rubs my arms in a slow, deliberate motion, his touch sending shivers down my spine. He moves closer to lend me a bit more warmth. The door clicks shut behind us.

As I slowly warm up, I feel the tingling return to my fingers and the tip of my nose. Connor's warmth envelops me, and I can almost forget about the frostbite nipping at my skin. Thank goodness for alphas and their ability to generate heat. Because of our freezing surroundings last time, I couldn't make out his scent. Every moment spent in his presence is soothing, and as I breathe in I realize that his scent isn't just pleasant, it's addicting. A feverish desire pulls me closer, igniting a fire in my core that slips between my legs.

Connor's scent is cinnamon and sandalwood, an intoxicating blend that sends shivers down my spine. It's like the most delicious candle—tempting and warm. To my absolute horror, I find myself moving forward and burying my face in his chest, my nose pressing against his skin as I inhale deeply, unable to resist. An ache in my core blooms, and I feel myself go slick between my legs.

What is happening to me?

Connor tenses. I start to pull back, to apologize for my insane behavior, and claim that the constant snow has caused a psychotic break, but I freeze when I see Connor's face. His pupils are wide, dark, and intent. An unspoken hunger crosses his features.

Leaning closer, he breathes in my scent. His breath brushes over my neck and sends shivers down my spine.

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