Page 66 of Pack Plus One

“Kitchen. Now.” I tug him up from the table, ignoring Jude’s whispered “Kinky” behind us.

In the kitchen—which is really just a slightly separated corner of my studio—I rummage for my first aid kit, hyperaware of Caleb’s massive presence behind me. His dark chocolate thickens with the injury, turning richer, more intense. My instincts flare, urging me to soothe, to care for him.

“Sit,” I command, pointing to a stool.

To my surprise, he complies without argument, extending his hand toward me palm up. The cut isn’t deep, but it runs across his lifeline, blood beading along its length.

“What happened?” I press, applying antibiotic ointment with more gentleness than the situation requires.

His jaw works. “This isn’t going how I planned.”

“What, dinner? Or the part where you all stole my underwear?”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Both. Neither.” His eyes flick up to mine, so green and intense. “I don’t usually lose control like this.”

“Could have fooled me,” I murmur, carefully pressing a bandage over the cut.

“Would it matter?” he asks suddenly. “If I said I was sorry for all of it—the panties, the ambush at your door, this disaster of a dinner?”

Something about the vulnerability in his question makes my heart twist. “Yes,” I admit softly. “It would.”

From the dining area, I hear the others’ voices rising. I look up to see Liam and Jude in what appears to be a heated debate, with Mason attempting to mediate.

“We need a proper approach,” Liam insists, his fingers tracing a gentle pattern on the napkin. “Traditional courtship has meaningful stages for a reason. There’s beauty in doing things properly.”

“Traditional?” Jude scoffs. “That’s your solution to everything. We don’t need old-fashioned rituals, we need grand gestures!”

Mason pinches the bridge of his nose. “Neither of you is helping.”

I return to the table with Caleb following a step behind, his bandaged hand lingering at the small of my back in that way that sends warmth spreading through me.

“What’s going on?” I ask, though I’m afraid I already know.

“We’re discussing strategy,” Jude announces.

“For?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Winning you over, obviously.” He grins. “I vote for more vegetable sculptures. Liam wants to implement formal courtship with flowers, handwritten letters, and proper chaperoned dates.”

Liam’s ears go red. “It’s about showing respect?—”

“You literally just drew out the stages of traditional courtship,” Jude points at the napkin.

“Because there’s meaning in those traditions!” Liam defends, his voice passionate but gentle.

Mason sighs. “I suggested we simply ask Leah what she wants, but apparently that’s too revolutionary.”

“I don’t need asking,” Caleb growls from behind me. “She needs space. We’re crowding her.”

“Says the alpha who kissed her goodbye after promising to back off,” Jude counters.

“That was different,” Caleb snaps.

“How?” Liam demands.

“Because she wanted it,” Caleb insists, his scent spiking with something that smells like conviction.

“Did she, though?” Mason questions softly.

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