Page 62 of Stuck with my Pack
Because she’s ours.
And soon, she’ll know it too.
28
SOPHIE
The inn is quiet. But after I slept, I woke up bleary, antsy, and uncomfortable.
I can hear the occasional thud of shovels scraping against packed snow outside, the rhythmic sound of Ethan and Tyler clearing the front gate. But inside, it’s just me, the crackling of the fireplace in the grate of my room.
I need to do something. I get up, remembering that I had a bunch of books that came and needed to be unpacked and shelved in the inn’s new library.
Padding across my room, I pull on an oversized sweatshirt soaked in Tyler’s scent. The fabric is warm and soft.
Ten minutes later, I’m lost in the process of unboxing all the books. As I move through the library, the faint creak of wooden shelves is the only sound I hear.
The air is thick with my own scent, rich and musky, the ever-present scent of my slick. It’s a new experience, the unmistakable shift in my body that comes before heat entirely takes hold. It clings to my skin and seeps into the fabric of my clothes, making my body feel too hot and too sensitive.
I shift uncomfortably, my thighs pressing together in search of relief that won’t come. I can feel how wet I am. I pull the hood of my sweatshirt over my head, grateful to have something to do.
I should be hiding in my room, curled up in my nest, preparing for what’s coming. But I’m not ready.The thought of being at the mercy of my instincts, of needing them in ways I can’t fully control, terrifies me.
So, instead, I bury myself in work, sorting through a mess of books and forgotten trinkets on the shelves, pretending like I can fight against biology with sheer willpower alone.
It’s not working.
The moment Brodie steps into the room, I’m instantly aware, and I know I’m in trouble.
His scent—earthy, rich, and distinctly Alpha—wraps around me like a warm blanket, sending a sharp spike of want straight to my core. I can smell his need, and it’s so fucking good I have to clench my thighs together and close my mouth so I don’t whine.
My fingers tighten around the book in my hand as I inhale, unable to stop myself, trying to keep my expression neutral.
He’s got that lazy, confident stride, and his sleeves are rolled up. His forearms are dusted with a hint of sawdust. “I just came for my sketchbook,” he says as he gestures to the table by the window.
He pauses in the doorway to look at the disaster I have made out of the once cozy space. Boxes litter the floor, half emptied and turned on their sides, piles of books cover nearly every surface.
“Do you need a hand, love?” he says softly. “I’m good at this sort of thing.”
I swallow hard, forcing a smile. “I can handle a few books. But if you’re volunteering…”
He comes into the room and kneels next to me, looking at me with an amused glint in his amber eyes. “Oh, I’m always happy to help.”
I clear my throat, setting a book onto the growing pile beside me. “How’s it going outside? Ethan and Tyler still digging us out?”
Brodie laughs, standing up and crossing to the window. “Yep. We had some energy to burn,” he says with a look I don’t fully understand.
“I decided I needed to do some sketching and only just came to grab my book and maybe peek in on you.”
The almost shy way he’s acting looks way too good on him.
That shouldn’t fluster me. But it does.
I turn away, pretending to focus on the shelf before me, but I can feel him watching me, the weight of his attention pressing against my skin—the room suddenly too small and the air scorching.
His voice is teasing when he finally speaks again. “You’ve got dust on your nose.”
I barely have time to react before he steps closer, lifting his hand to brush it away. His fingers linger for a fraction too long, his touch searing into me. My breath catches, heat pooling low in my belly.
