Page 21 of A Pack of Mistletoe
My phone has already buzzed five times with alerts flagging articles about us. Every one of them is a photo of Rose and Evander out in town—caught in some compromising position.
I drag a hand down my face and groan, then glance up at him. It’s afternoon. I wrapped early at the restaurant site and told the pack to do the same.
Evander catches me staring. “What?” he asks, that false-innocent tone in his voice. The kind that makes me want to bend him over my knee.
I look back down at a photo of him with his face buried in Rose’s curls, arm wrapped tight around her. I can’t even be mad. I told him to make it look real.
In truth, I’m not angry.
I’m justfucking horny.
Seeing my brat with the soft, beautiful omega gives me ideas. Filthy ideas. Inappropriate ones, given this is supposed to be pretend.
The door opens, letting in a gust of cold air. Logan and Kai are last to get home. Rose comes out of the bedroom with a few things from her closet.
“What’s up with you?” Kai asks when he spots my scowl.
My gaze cuts to Logan, who only frowns back, confused. It’s not exactly fair to pin my uncomfortable thoughts on him. But it’s not exactly unfair either. We’re here because of him.
He ducks his head under my stare, guilt creeping in. Rose notices and tilts her chin at me in quiet defense.
I need to get these mixed feelings under control for the sake of the pack. Being crammed into this sardine can of a house doesn’t help. It’s a cute sardine can, but still every five steps I’m running into a wall, a packmate, or Rose herself.
“We’re going house hunting,” I announce.
Every eye turns to me, but I only look at her. She meets my stare and doesn’t look away as I rise and offer my hand.
She hesitates, just for a second, then takes it.
I guide her out to the car, my palm brushing the small of her back. My alpha keeps snapping to the surface around her, and I don’t understand it.
I’ve been around omegas. Some of my best employees are omegas. Friends, too. But this, this sharp-edged need to protect, to provide, toclaim, it’s different.
Alphas talk about scent-matched mates, even scent-sensitive ones, and how their omega’s scent drives them feral. But Rose doesn’t have a scent right now. Those beta drugs stripped it away.
So why the hell do I feel like this?
I slide into the driver’s seat. Rose slips into the passenger side. The others pile into the back. I lean across her, taking the seatbelt in hand.
“I can do that,” she murmurs. Quiet, not biting. Like she just wants to remind me.
“I know you can.”
Our faces are a breath apart. I can see the gold flecks in her brown eyes, bright even in the dim light. I could count them, if I let myself.
“But let me. I need to know you’re secure,” I say.
She doesn’t smile. But she gives the faintest nod.
I click the buckle into place.
When I lean back, I catch her taking a slow, steady breath, as if trying to calm herself. Or scent me.
“Can you scent alphas? Or is the drug still suppressing it?” I ask, voice low.
She shakes her head. “I can’t scent anyone right now. Lately I’ve felt little flashes, but it’s like… a smell from a dream. Almost there, but not quite.”
I start the car. But for a moment, I don’t move.
