Page 9 of Pack Plus One

Liam glances between us. “Maybe her phone’s dead. Who knows, she might already be here looking for us.”

He’s got a point.

I nod. “Let’s mingle. We’re drawing attention standing here like lost puppies.”

We make our way into the main ballroom, immediately assaulted by the scents of too many packs in one enclosed space. I wrinkle my nose slightly—these events always feel overcrowded to me, but they’re perfect for establishing presence, especially with a business like ours.

“Bar first,” Jude announces, leading the way. “I need a drink if we’re going to schmooze with these people.”

We’re halfway across the room when it happens. A small figure in a black dress bumps directly into Jude, nearly spilling champagne on his suit.

“Oh!” she begins, looking up with startled brown eyes.

One look at her black dress, and Jude’s irritation melts instantly into his trademark charming smile. “You’re late, sweetheart,” he says, steadying her with a hand on her elbow.

It’s her. Description fits. Poor thing was probably searching for us while we stood by waiting for her to arrive. My irritation melts away immediately.

Damn. She’sgorgeous. The picture on PackPlus does her zero justice.

I step forward, ready to introduce myself to our hired date, when I notice the man standing before her and watching our interaction with undisguised interest. Something about his smug expression sets my teeth on edge.

The omega follows my gaze, and I watch as her shoulders tense. Her aura shifts subtly—a note of distress threading through what was, I now notice, an exceptionally appealing scent. Like vanilla and cinnamon with hints of honey.

The man clears his throat, looking between her and the four of us with narrowed eyes. “I didn’t realize you were... bringing guests, Leah.”

Leah. Not Olivia. I realize in an instant that we’ve approached the wrong omega, but before I can correct the mistake, I catch the look of pure mortification on her face. The man—who must be one of the grooms, given the boutonniere on his lapel, is clearly taking pleasure in her discomfort.

Jude, never one to miss an opportunity for drama, extends his hand to the groom. “Jude Le Roux. And you must be one of the grooms.” He glances at the omega, then back at the groom. “Pleasure to meet you.”

The groom shakes his hand, his expression now showing signs of uncertainty. “Still packless last I heard, Leah. This is... unexpected.”

Something protective surges in my chest without warning. I step closer to her, letting a low rumble build in my throat, clear enough for the groom to hear.

“She’s with us.”

I feel her tense beside me, and without thinking, I place my hand at the small of her back in a gesture that’s unmistakably possessive.

Liam moves to her other side, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder as she chokes on her champagne. “Easy there,” he murmurs in that gentle way of his.

The groom’s eyes dart between us, then he forces a tight smile. “Well,” he says stiffly, “I should get back to my guests. Nice to meet you all.” He gives the omega one last look before retreating across the room.

As soon as he’s out of earshot, she spins to face us, her heart beating so rapidly I can practically hear it.

“Who are you people?” she hisses, eyes wide with confusion and what might be panic.

I lean in close, keeping my voice low. “We thought you were late, sweetheart.”

“Late for what?” she whispers back, clearly bewildered. “I don’t even know you.”

I catch Mason’s subtle head tilt—his way of signaling something’s not right. His eyes are narrowed slightly as he studies her face. Of course, he’d be the one to catch on first that this isn’t our hired date.

But before I can decide how to respond, Jude steps in with his usual confidence. “Le Roux Pack,” he says with a lazy smile. “Jude, Liam, Mason, Caleb. Sorry, we didn’t realize you’dalready arrived. We’ve been waiting by the champagne fountain for the past twenty minutes.”

I watch as understanding dawns on her face. She glances across the room at the groom, who’s still watching us, and something shifts in her expression. Her shoulders straighten almost imperceptibly.

“I’m sorry about that,” she says, her voice steadier now. “The traffic was terrible.”

So she’s playing along. Interesting.

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