Page 125 of Found by the Pack
The basement smells like paper and damp stone, like history layered too thick to scrape clean. I flick on the light, the single bulb overhead humming faintly, and gesture for Sadie to follow me down the narrow staircase.
She doesn’t hesitate. Boots clicking against the steps, skirt swaying as she moves. When she passes me, her shoulder brushes mine, and I feel the heat of her through the fabric like a spark.
I force my eyes away, scanning the rows of shelves instead.
“There should be files from the station’s founding,” I say, voice steadier than I feel. “Articles, photos. Something you can use for inspiration.”
She lingers behind me as I start to pull boxes down. My hands are steady, methodical. My mind is chaos.
“Are you okay with what happened that night?” Her voice is soft, but the question slices through the air.
I pause, a folder half-pulled from its sleeve. I swallow. “Yes.”
“Then why haven’t you looked at me once since?”
The folder shakes faintly in my grip. I set it down, turning just enough to meet her eyes. “Because it’s complicated, Sadie.”
She steps closer, until I can feel the warmth of her body radiating against mine. Her eyes search my face. “I didn’t mean to put you in that position.”
“You didn’t,” I rasp. My chest feels too tight. “I put myself there.”
Her scent shifts, sweetening, deepening. My body reacts before my brain catches up. The matching clicks into place—sharp, sudden, undeniable.
Her eyes widen. She inhales, startled. “Scent matching?”
I nod, throat dry.
She blinks, breath quickening. “I wasn’t expecting…”
Neither was I.
The space between us evaporates. Her hands fist in my shirt, tugging me down, and my mouth crashes onto hers. The kiss is nothing like the restrained brush we shared before. This is hungry, desperate. More tongue, teeth clashing, her lips soft but insistent.
I groan into her mouth, my hands gripping her waist, dragging her closer until I can feel every curve pressed against me.
“Sadie,” I breathe, pulling back just enough to rasp the words. “I want to talk to Boone first.”
Her pupils blow wide, lips swollen. “I already did. We had a conversation.”
“About…?” My voice is a growl.
Her answering smile is dangerous. “About us. About everything.”
The heat between us spikes, burning away the last threads of restraint. I slam my mouth back onto hers, rougher this time, one hand tangling in her hair, the other sliding up under her sweater to palm her breast. She moans, arching against me, and the sound nearly undoes me.
“Maybe we should wait,” I grit, even as my hips grind against hers.
“Yes,” she pants, and then kisses me harder, nails dragging down my back.
The marks on her neck catch my eye when I tear my mouth away, trailing down her jaw, biting at the soft skin there. Bruises. Boone’s. I should stop, but the sight just makes me hungrier.
Words tumble out before I can catch them. “In college… I never shared an Omega. But I’ve been in threesomes before. A few. Nights where it got wild.”
She jerks back enough to search my face, eyes wide. “You?”
I smirk despite myself, teeth catching her bottom lip. “Me. I wasn’t always the quiet one.”
Her laugh is breathless, incredulous. “I never would’ve guessed.”
