Page 46 of Stuck with my Pack
When we return to the living room, Sophie is curled up on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her and a book in her lap. She looks up as we enter, her smile soft but tired.
“You didn’t have to do all that,” she says, her voice warm.
Brodie shrugs, his grin easy. “I sure didn’t. Shouldn’t I get a reward?”
Sophie laughs and stretches up to kiss him lightly on the cheek.
Ethan moves to the armchair across from her, his gaze steady but inscrutable. “You’ve got a lot on your plate. Let us take some of the load.”
Her eyes soften as she looks at him, and for a moment, it’s like the rest of us aren’t even in the room. I can see the heat in Ethan’s eyes.
I clear my throat, breaking the moment. “So, what’s next on the to-do list, boss?”
Sophie laughs, the tension easing again. “Sleep,” she says simply. “I think we’ve all earned it.”
We linger a little longer, the conversation light but comfortable, before finally calling it a night.
As I head out to my cottage, sleep is the last thing on my mind.
20
SOPHIE
Ican still smell them.
Ethan. Tyler. Brodie.
Their scents cling to the inn—woven into the old wooden floors, seared into the cushions, wrapped around me like invisible bindings. The fire crackles in the hearth, casting long, flickering shadows over the room, but the heat inside me has nothing to do with the flames. It’s deeper, primal, a simmering restlessness under my skin that has been growing since they left.
I shift on the sofa, rubbing my thighs together, trying to ignore the way my body aches. My pulse pounds in my ears, a slow, thick beat in time with the dull throb between my legs. This can’t be happening.
I press my palms against my cheeks, desperate for some kind of relief, but my skin is too hot. My Omega is pacing inside me, clawing at the walls I’ve spent years building, whispering in my ear,.
They should be here. This isn’t right.
I take deep, steadying breaths, forcing myself to focus. I can handle this. I’ve handled everything else.
But my instincts betray me. My body betrays me.
It wants them.
Not just one of them—all of them.
I groan in frustration and push myself off the couch, pacing in front of the fire. Maybe if I move, I can shake this feeling—drown it in exhaustion. But every breath pulls in more of them, more of their scent, more of the memory of their hands, their mouths.
Ethan’s firm grip. Tyler’s teasing smirk. Brodie’s steady touch.
My knees threaten to buckle.
No. I can’t stay in here. The walls are closing in. The scent is too thick. I need fresh air, now.
I grab my coat and step outside, the night air biting into my overheated skin. The shock of cold is a relief at first, sharp and crisp, cutting through the suffocating haze of warmth clinging to me.
My breath puffs out in small, visible clouds, and I tilt my face toward the sky, welcoming the icy sting of the wind against my feverish cheeks.
The silence is thick, the kind that settles over freshly fallen snow, muffling everything beneath its weight. The moon casts a pale glow over the landscape, the inn’s warm golden light spilling out from the windows behind me, but it feels a world away already.
Outside, I feel like I can think, like I’m not drowning in my own body.
