Page 67 of Pack Owned
“Hey,” I say. “What is it?” I’d flay open the world for her if it meant seeing her smile again.
“Could I... I mean, would it be possible to send a message to my mom?” Her question slices through the air, as delicate and dangerous as glass shards. “Let her know I’m okay.”
My throat tightens around the lie that must be told. “Not yet, Kayla. Nexus is watching your family to see if you or anyone else tries to make contact.”
Her shoulders slump, the weight of disappointment settling over her.
“Once everything is settled...” I trail off, my words hollow even to my own ears.
“Okay.” She nods, though her eyes shimmer with unshed tears.
Damn it. I hate being the one to make her sad.
With her hand trembling slightly, she eats a bit more, but not enough to my liking, then sets the tray of half-eaten food to the side. Her legs tuck beneath her, drawing my focus to the delicate curve of her calf, and my damn cock stirs.
She places the coffee on the nightstand along with the water beside the bed. “Thanks again for bringing me breakfast in bed.”
“Of course,” I say, my voice nearly a growl. I need to leave before I lose control of myself. Standing, I reach across the bed to retrieve the tray, my hand inadvertently brushing against the warmth of her leg. My muscles lock, and my breath catches in my throat. I yank my hand back, but it’s not the heat of her skin that burns me—it’s the realization of how much she affects me, how much I crave that simple touch.
The air between us is charged, so thick I could carve it with a knife. My discipline splinters for a moment under the weight of that touch.
Her delicate fingers wrap around my hand as she stares up at me.
My throat tightens as she shifts on the bed, coming up onto her knees. A teasing beam of morning light cuts through her sheer nightgown, revealing the soft curves of her breasts. I swallow hard, fighting against the primal urge to take her, claim her.
Then she leans forward and kisses my cheek. “Thank you for the breakfast.”
“Kayla,” I whisper, my voice strained.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean…” She pulls away, biting her lip, her dark blue eyes wide as they meet mine, and a blush creeps across her cheeks.
“Nothing to apologize for,” I say, but my words are ragged. I wonder if she realizes how much she unravels me.
Her scent flares under the intensity, and it’s all I can do to keep my composure. To be the Alpha she needs, not the one my instincts demand. And how I want to rip the bastard apart who hurt her.
She leans forward, and time seems to stutter.
“Here...” Hands shaky, she thrusts the tray at me and lifts her chin in defiance.
I can’t help adoring the little rebel fighter inside her. For a moment, I linger before turning to leave.
“I’ll be around if you need anything else.” I exit her bedroom and pull the door shut behind me. Alone in the hallway, I slump against the wall, chest heaving as I try to steady my ragged breathing and get my pounding heart under control. Breathe, soldier. Just fucking breathe. But every inhale tastes of her,pulling me back to the edge of something dangerous, something sweet.
My heart is a goddamn traitor, pounding in my chest like I’ve run through boot camp on my first day. I stand at the closed door, the scent of Kayla’s perfume—a haunting blend of vanilla and jasmine—clinging to me like a second skin. It’s intoxicating and calls to every primal instinct I possess as an Alpha.
I press my forehead against the cool wood of her door, trying to center myself to regain the discipline that’s as much a part of me as my own flesh.
How the hell am I gonna be able to wait for her to come into her heat fully? Just the trace of it has me wanting to show her what it truly means to be an Omega with an Alpha. To trust me enough to let me show her passion.
Before I break down her door, I move into the kitchen, setting the tray down with more force than necessary, the clatter echoing around. My hands find the edge of the countertop, gripping it tight, knuckles whitening.
“Shit,” I hiss under my breath. Waiting for Kayla is a test of endurance, every bit as demanding as the grueling hours I spent training in the army. Only now, it’s not my body that’s being pushed to the limits but my soul.
“Control,” I mutter, the word a command I’ve barked a thousand times before, but never has it been so fucking difficult to obey.
I could go back, check on her one last time, and make some excuse about forgetting something, but that would be a lie. A betrayal of the trust she’s only beginning to show. So, I turn away from the temptation and retreat to the sanctuary of the gym.
My fists clenched, my body is tense with unsated longing. Getting out my frustration, I pound at the punching bag, pretending it’s the asshole who hurt her.
