Page 10 of Pack Plus One

Mason raises an eyebrow, and I give him the slightest shake of my head. Whatever game this is, I’m curious to see where it goes.

“No problem at all,” I tell her, keeping my hand at the small of her back. The touch feels more natural than it should with a complete stranger. “We’re just glad we found you.”

Her skin is warm through the thin fabric of her dress, and I catch another wave of that delicious scent as she takes a deep breath. This close, I notice the way her short, dark hair frames her face, how her pulse jumps at the base of her throat.

“Should we get a drink?” Liam suggests smoothly, breaking the tension.

Jude nods with enough enthusiasm for all of us. “Excellent idea. I need to hear all about your…journey here,” he adds with a meaningful look at not-Olivia.

As we guide her toward the bar, I catch Mason’s eye. He gives me a subtle nod, confirming my suspicion: he knows she’s not our date. But he’s willing to play along, too, at least for now.

I scan the room again, wondering if the real Olivia is somewhere in the crowd, looking for us. But for the moment, I’m more interested in learning why this omega—Leah—is willing to pretend to be with a pack of strangers.

And why, despite having just met her, I felt so instantly compelled to defend her from the groom, who is also a stranger to me.

4

MASON

Caleb, Jude, and Liam are already laying it on thick, and we’ve barely made it to the bar.

I hang back, observing our unexpected companion as Jude flags down a server with his usual excessive charm. The omega looks like she’s ready to bolt—shoulders tight, fingers clutching her purse like it might try to escape. But beneath the tension, there’s something else there too. Relief, maybe.

The server arrives, and Jude doesn’t miss a beat. “Surprise me. But make it pink.”

Liam gives him an unimpressed side-eye before ordering a dry martini.

“Old Fashioned,” Caleb says simply, his tone clipped but polite.

I, ever the responsible beta who might have to drive these idiots back home, ask for a sparkling water with lime. Then I glance at the omega, Leah, the groom had called her. She’s been quietly scanning the room like she’s expecting an ambush. “And you?”

She blinks like she’s startled that I’ve addressed her directly. “Oh, um... another champagne would be great.”

Her voice is pleasant—just a touch higher than usual, probably from nerves. And her scent... it hits me like a warm loaf of bread fresh out of the oven. Vanilla, spice, and something underlying that’s sweet. Not at all like the cloying perfume-heavy scent profiles we’ve been reviewing all week, trying to find a PackPlus date.

Caleb shifts behind her, casually positioning himself like a sentry. It’s the kind of move that would usually make me roll my eyes—classic overprotective alpha flex—but in this context, it seems... appropriate. Especially with the groom still watching us from across the room God knows why. But as I shift my gaze back to the omega standing with us, I think I know the answer to that.

“So,” I say quietly as the server delivers our drinks, “how do you know the groom?”

She freezes, fingers tightening around the stem of her glass. For a moment, I think she’s going to dodge the question entirely. But then, impressively, she downs the rest of her champagne in one go and gestures for another.

“Eric and I used to date,” she finally admits, her voice dropping just enough that only our small group can hear. “It didn’t end well.”

“Ah.” I let the syllable hang between us. Her scent shifts slightly, souring enough for even me to pick up. I want to ask more, but I know better than to press.

She sighs, giving the server a tight smile as he hands her another flute. “We were together for two years. Then he decided I wasn’t... ‘pack material.’” Her lips twist into a humorless smile. “Apparently, that’s a thing.”

The moment the words leave her mouth, she squeezes her eyes shut like she didn’t mean to say so much. Her nose scrunches, and my God, if it isn’t the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

She recovers quickly, taking a sip of her new champagne.

Jude makes a sound that’s half laugh, half scoff. “Not pack material? You? What an idiot. Has he seen you?”

His arm settles around Leah’s shoulders like he’s done it a hundred times before. She stiffens for a heartbeat, but then something curious happens.

Her breathing evens out.

Not relaxed, exactly, but... accepting. Like some part of her recognizes this should feel safe, even if her brain hasn’t caught up yet.

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