Page 40 of A Pack of Pumpkins
“Let me take care of that for you.” He presses the money into Henry’s chest—just a little too hard to be friendly.
Henry doesn’t take it. Bram leaves it on the table instead, then turns fully toward me.
I half-expect him to be angry, but his face is only soft—fond, maybe even concerned. He offers me his arm, and I take it gladly.
Out on the street again, Bram says quietly, “I’m sorry about that.”
I blink up at him. “Sorry for what?”
“I know he’s a sort of friend of yours. But you looked… uncomfortable. If I stepped where I wasn’t supposed to, I apologize.”
I squeeze his arm lightly, feeling the solid muscle beneath his sweater. “I don’t know what’s going on with him. We’ve always been friends—or at least friendly. But he’s been acting strange since…”
Bram’s gaze holds mine, steady, understanding. “Since he found out you’re scent sensitive to someone else?”
I nod.
“Maybe he’s just having a bad day,” I say, though the words feel hollow. I like Henry, I really do. But whatever tenuous scent match might’ve existed between us has been completely eclipsed by my bond with the Ember Pack. I’m not interested in him—not that way. I’d hoped we could still be friends, though.
I glance back toward Stella’s booth.
Henry is still there. Watching us walk away.
Clara
“Darlin’.”Hisvoicerollsthrough the room, the lilt of Ireland still clinging to every syllable as it reverberates off the walls.
I’d spent the entire day at the Café thinking about everything. About the barbecue happening tomorrow, the progress I’d made with Bram, Jack, and Dagan… and all the non-progress I’d made with Victor. Sleep hadn't come easy, and now I'm being dragged from it by a voice.
“Finian,” I breathe. I sit up in bed, blankets pooling at my waist. The thin camisole I wear clings to me, doing nothing to hide the hard peaks of my nipples pressing insistently against the fabric. The shadow goes rigid at the sound of his name.
He strides forward in a jerky, disturbing way, like the image on a television flickering on and off. The movement continues, but pieces are missing, as though the moments between steps have been stolen.
Halfway across the room, he disappears completely… only to reappear crouched over me, his face mere inches from mine.
I squeak and snap back, slapping a hand over my mouth. My breaths drag in ragged bursts, but I force myself not to scream. I don’t want him gone. My omega recognizes him as one of her own, as much as any of the alphas in the omega pack. He’s my mate. I don’t understand how but he is.
Victor doesn’t understand but I see. Victors the only one who’s been openly hostile towards me. Finians been shielding me. My silent protector.
Baked bread surrounds me, spicy and warm, curling around my senses like an embrace.
The shadows swirl, and once again I catch flashes of the man underneath—blue eyes, pale skin, the outline of a newsboy cap. Strips of a vest, rolled-up sleeves. The restrained tension between us snaps when I lean up, brushing my mouth over the shadowed shape of his, darting my tongue forward to taste him.
A deep, otherworldly growl rumbles from his chest. He feels so solid beneath the smoke, as if a whole alpha stands there, wrapped in darkness.
“Can I see you?” I whisper.
Finian tenses, but the shadows peel away. Moonlight spills across his face, and I see him. He's older than me by about ten years. Or, more accurately, a hundred and ten, my mind supplies.
White-blond hair slicked back from a face built on sharp planes and high cheekbones. Piercing blue eyes lock on mine. His suit jacket is gone, his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbow, exposing muscle-corded forearms. An omega whine escapes me before I can stop it.
Right now, with his essence and scent wrapped around me, I feel—safe.
“My Darlin' mate,” he says with a wicked grin. “Of course you can see me.”
I perfume, and it floods the space between us.
His face sharpens into a predator’s stare. His eyes flare, not at me, but at something only he can sense. He touches the air near my cheek, not quite a caress. “I’ll return, Darlin'. But first…” A chill skates over my skin as his smile turns sharp. “I have another matter to tend to."
