Page 60 of Pack Owned
“Enjoy,” Dane says, but he doesn’t leave. He hovers by the couch, one cushion away, like he’s enjoying watching me eat.
“You can hang out here. You don’t need to just stand there.” I smile at him, my stomach fluttering nervously at my brazen invitation. “Kinda hoping you can give me the scoop on how these romance books ended up in a library with three Alphas.”
He pauses, eyebrows lifting slightly, a hint of amusement curling his lips. Then, with a casual shrug, he sits on the couch, one cushion between us, and leans back. His relaxed posture contrasts with the intensity of his gaze, making my stomach do another flip.
“You really want to know?” he asks, a playful challenge in his tone.
The small distance feels safe, yet intimate, as I feel the weight of his stare.
“Yeah.” I shovel in another bite of soup, the warmth battling the chill that’s been clinging to me ever since Nexus showed its ugly mug.
Dane glances down at the book in my hand with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, then picks another one from the pile, his fingers skimming the shiny cover. I can’t help tracking the movement, momentarily transfixed by the sheer masculine power in those hands.
“Well, I don’t actually read these,” he admits with a chuckle. “Ryker buys them.”
“Ryker?” I practically choke on my soup. “Seriously?” The idea of brooding, intense Ryker reading sappy, fluffy romance novels seems totally out of character. These sparkly books full of lingering glances and gushy feelings don’t fit at all with the dusty classics filling the shelves. “Why?”
Dane shrugs. “You’ll have to ask him that.”
“Ryker?” I repeat, unable to wrap my mind around it.
Dane just nods, lips twitching like he’s trying not to laugh at my surprise. “I’ll leave the reading to you. Ryker just buys them for his own reasons,” Dane says vaguely.
Now I’m really curious about this whole weird thing—the tough Alpha guy buying romance books. I make a mental note to grill Ryker about it later.
“Huh, interesting,” I mumble, taking a gulp of soda. Dane’s piercing gaze feels like it’s seeing right through me. Something sparks between us for a moment, his smoldering stare stealing my breath.
Again, I take another bite of soup, trying to ground myself against the unsettling tide of Dane’s mere presence. As if he can sense my inner turbulence, his face softens a notch.
“Your injuries...” His deep voice rumbles with a hint of something raw and protective. Eyes that moments agosmoldered with banked heat now rove over me with gentle concern. “How’s the healing coming along?”
A lump catches in my throat at his attentiveness. I glance down at the fading bruise on my arm, a mottled map of the pain I’ve endured. “Better,” I mumble, the half-truth feeling as flimsy as tissue paper between us. “I had a good medic.”
His hand reaches out, hovering in the air between us before lightly brushing against mine. The contact is electric, sending tingles racing up my arm and a warmth spreading through me.
“Is this...” My words trail off as my stomach clenches. No way. It’s not my heat; it can’t be. Not now. It has to be the jalapenos wreaking havoc like a storm inside me.
“Thank you,” I say quickly, needing to break the tension, “for the food... and for taking care of me.” My hand finds his arm, a gesture of gratitude that sparks more of those treacherous tingles through my veins. It feels like every nerve ending is on high alert, each brush of skin against skin echoing louder than it should.
“Anytime, Kayla.” His voice is low, a rumble that vibrates through the room. I swear it resonates straight into my bones.
My hand jerks back like I touched a hot stove, the tingly aftershock lingering on my fingertips. Instinct has me wrapping my arms tight across my chest. This is too much—too intimate, too raw. I need space to breathe, to think, to not feel the confusing mix of fear and attraction swirling inside me.
“Guess I’m not used to the spicy stuff,” I quip, attempting to laugh off the odd sensations coursing through me, but the joke falls flat, even to my own ears.
Dane simply nods, his eyes holding mine a moment longer before he stands, collecting the tray. “Don’t sell yourself short, Kayla. You’re stronger than you know.”
The gruff words and their underlying fierceness rob me of breath. No one has ever truly seen my struggle, the daily battleto keep my chin up and soul intact. Yet Dane’s dark gaze holds mine with an understanding that strips me bare.
Heat prickles along my skin as our mingled breaths hang between us.
A heavy pause stretches taut as a tightrope. Dane seems to hesitate rather than saying more. Instead, he gives a curt nod and rises with the empty dishes, leaving me to stare after his retreating form. An unexpected ache blossoms in his wake, a longing to peel back more layers of this enigmatic man who sees quiet strengths I’ve feared no one would understand.
But the image is already fading, replaced by the scorching intensity of Dane’s gaze. Slowly, against my will, his rugged features take over the hero’s, sending a jolt of yearning through me that both terrifies and entrances.
What the actual heck is happening here? Swallowing hard, I push aside the confusing tangle of emotions he’s stirring in me.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the image of Dane from my mind. It’s not possible, this pull toward him. I’m an Omega, but I’ve never been one to swoon at an Alpha’s feet, especially not after everything I’ve been through.
