Page 66 of Pack Owned
Making coffee, I’m surprised not to see her shuffle up to the table. So I grab a tray and arrange the items meticulously, adding a cup of coffee, a small glass of orange juice, and a bottle of water. With the tray balanced in my hands, I head to her bedroom, knocking lightly on the door.
“Breakfast,” I call out.
After a few seconds, Kayla opens the door. She rubs the sleep from her eyes, the dark blonde tendrils of her hair framing herface in a disheveled halo. When she sees the tray in my hands, her lips curve into a smile so radiant, it nearly floors me.
“Breakfast?” she asks in a sleepy voice that’s the sultriest thing I’ve ever heard.
“Thought you might be hungry.” I shrug.
“Thanks,” she murmurs.
“Of course.” My reply is gruff, and there’s a sudden tightness in my chest.
Her fingers brush mine as she takes the tray, and a spark jumps between us, hot and electric, but I keep my posture and face natural. Since she leaves the door open like a silent invitation, I follow her into her room, keeping a careful distance. She settles against the headboard with the tray, and I perch on the edge of the bed, acutely aware of the space between us.
She’s healing, both inside and out, but I’m here to play the long game.
“Is it alright?” I ask, nodding toward the humble meal. It’s nothing compared to what I want to give her—a world free from fear, a life unchained, a life of pleasure.
“It’s perfect.” She digs into the eggs.
“I’m glad.” My eyes rake over her, taking inventory of every healed cut, every fading bruise.
“You don’t have to do all this, you know,” she mumbles around a mouthful of fluffy eggs.
“Do all what?”
“Take care of me. Cooking breakfast. Being here.” She gestures around the room with her fork. “It’s not your job.”
“The hell it is, Kayla. And more than that, I want to.” On the edge of the bed, I lean forward with my elbows digging into my knees as the mattress sags under my weight. “You mean everything to me,” I rasp out, my intense emotions a fist squeezing my throat.
Kayla’s eyes dart away as a blush creeps up her neck while she nibbles on a piece of toast. “I just... I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You’re not,” I say firmly. “You’re our Omega.”
She chews slowly, as if considering my words.
“I’ve never really had anyone look out for me like this before. My mom tries, but she’s always busy working double shifts and stuff.”
I hold my tongue, wanting to ask her about her stepfather and what the fuck he did to her, but I know if I do, she’ll either clam up, or I’ll want to rip his face off. Neither would be beneficial at the moment.
“You deserve nice things, Kayla,” I manage to say.
“It’s... nice, but I don’t know how to handle it.”
“Just enjoy.”
Her eyes meet mine, and there’s a glimmer of vulnerability there that makes my chest tighten.
“Why do you care so much?” she whispers, a slight tremble in her words.
“Because I see you, Kayla. I recognize the strength it takes to keep going, even when everything is falling apart. I want you to know I’m here,” I whisper, leaning in slightly. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
“You, Liam, and now even Ryker think I’m your Omega.” She pushes her eggs around on her plate. “But what if you’re all wrong? What if—” She hiccups. “What if because of my past, I never go into heat, never get over this?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I say, and she glances up sharply. “I’ll prove myself to you day by day. We’ll go at whatever pace you need, Kayla. You’re the one in charge. I’ll wait forever if you need me to, and I know Liam and Ryker would tell you the same.”
Her eyes hold mine for a long moment before she gives a small nod, pressing her lips together tightly. She blinks back tears.
