Page 88 of Pack Choice
“Yes,” she says, waving her hand dismissively, “but I’ve narrowed it down to those two.”
“Okay.”
“I like Pack London–”
“Like?” I say, lifting an eyebrow.
“Yes, like. They are charming. Perfect gentlemen. They have beautiful homes here and over in Europe. They are good looking. Well-established.”
“And they have those hot British accents.”
“Yes, that too …”
“But …”
“But then there’s Pack Darius.”
“Ahhh Pack Darius.”
“Did you know they own a string of strip clubs?”
“I didn’t.”
“And one of them was in juvie for drug dealing.”
“Right,” I say, “but you chose to have a date with them anyway.”
“Yes,” she flushes, “because they do have some more respectable businesses and they were polite and –”
“They’re hot as fuck.”
Ava gulps and her cheeks positively sizzle. “They do that thing you described to me.”
“The insides thing?”
“Yeah, that.” Ava leans right in close to me. “They make me feel things. Things I’ve never felt before when I’m with an alpha. And their scents!” She makes a muffled little whimper.
“So what’s the problem?”
“My family think I should go for Pack London. They are the sensible choice.”
“True, but what do you want, Ava?” I nudge her with my foot. “Do you want the hot sex?”
“Oh god,” she says, burying her face in her hands. “Yes, I do, like really badly. But hot sex can’t last forever, can it? And when all the …” she clears her throat, “passion dies, what will I be left with? I have more in common with the alphas from Pack London. They like art and the theater and–”
“Opposites attract.”
“But does it last forever?”
I wrap my arm around my best friend. I love her so much. If it weren’t for her, I don’t know how I would have survived the last few years. But it was she who showed up late at night more often than not, making sure I’d fed myself, curling up with me to watch mindless TV and telling me all the gossip I was missing out on. It was she who hugged me close when it happened, she who held my hand all through that day of the funeral. I want her to be happy. She deserves it so much.
“I don’t know what the answer is, Ava. I can’t promise the passion won’t die away eventually and that you’ll be left unhappy. I can’t promise you that maybe a passion might grow between you and Pack London if you choose them. None of us knows what the future holds. None of us knows how these things will work out. All you can do is go with your gut.”
“Not my head? Or my heart?”
“No, in my experience, it’s our guts that are the most reliable. The first organ that picks up when something is wrong, the first thing that springs into life when it’s right. Your gut. That’s the thing you should trust.”
“And what does your gut tell you, Moll?”
