Page 61 of Pack Owned
With Dane gone from the library, there’s a strange sense of loss pulsing through me. As I sink back onto the couch, Dane’s scent lingers, an invisible tether drawing me toward something I can’t see or understand. Something dangerous and alluring, whispering of a place where I might belong.
“Get a grip, Kayla,” I mutter under my breath, my fingers gripping the edges of the book until they turn white. Heat or no heat, jalapenos or not, I can’t afford to lose myself. My grip tightens on the book as uncertainty and longing churn inside me.
It’s too quiet in the library now. Ugh, I hate to admit it, even to myself, but a tiny, traitorous part of me wishes he hadn’t left.
Heaving a sigh that whooshes out of me, I pick up the romance novel again, trying to lose myself in its pages. But the hero’s rugged charm, his protective nature—it all morphs into Dane, and I can almost hear his baritone tone instead of the scripted lines.
“Damn it.” On my feet, I shove the book back onto the shelf, my fingers brushing against the cool, smooth spine.
I blush, hot and flustered in a way that has nothing to do with the warm library air. Must be from those jalapenos that were no joke—might as well be firecrackers in my stomach.
But the truth is, the tingles that flip in my belly, they ain’t from any spicy pepper. They’re from Dane—from his touch, his presence. No, it can’t be. There’s no room for that kind of distraction, not when I’ve spent years dodging glances that linger too long and hands that wander too freely.
I have three Alphas saying I can stay, vowing they won’t hand me over to Nexus like some prize. It’s a strange feeling having someone on my side for once. Not running, not hiding—it’s unfamiliar territory, and I tread carefully. Trust doesn’t come easy, and safety is just another word for the cage you don’t see yet.
Taking a deep breath, I brace myself against the storm inside me. I’ve survived this long by being smart, by keeping my walls high and sturdy. I can’t afford to let them crumble now—not for Dane, not for anyone.
Now, the library’s hush feels like it’s pressing in on me, and I need to shake off the suffocating quiet. My feet carry me through dimly lit corridors without direction until Dane’s scent wraps around me—sandalwood and something crisp, like mountain air after a storm. It pulls me along, a lure I can’t resist.
The door to his bedroom stands slightly ajar, and I hesitate, biting my lip. His scent is like an invisible thread tugging at my core, drawing me inside. The room is empty, thank God, but it’sfull of him. Every inch speaks Dane, from the military precision of the folded clothes to the neat stack of dog-eared medical journals on his desk.
His bed looms before me, large and made without even the tiniest wrinkle in sight. Without thinking, I drift closer, my fingers itching to touch, to feel what he feels when he sinks into those sheets each night. I give in, snatching up his pillow. It’s wrong, so damn wrong, but I press it to my face, inhaling deeply. The scent floods my senses with pure Dane.
Heat zips through me, sharp and sudden, and my nipples bead against the thin fabric of my top. A shudder ripples through my body, and I clamp down on the gasp trying to escape. It’s not heat; it can’t be. My mind scrambles for excuses, reasons, anything to explain away the rush.
Realization slams into me—I’m clutching his pillow like a lovesick fool who has no business being here. Any second, he could walk in, and then what? I’d have no words, just stammers and blushes and the burning shame of getting caught.
I hurl the pillow back onto the bed where it belongs, smoothing the creases in a feeble attempt to erase my intrusion. My hands are shaking as I step back, the room suddenly too small, the air too thick.
I scold myself for this slip, for even entertaining the possibility of... of whatever madness this is. Heat? Hell no. Not when I’ve finally found a place where I might not have to look over my shoulder every damn minute.
Quickly, I slip out of Dane’s room, closing the door with a soft click. The corridor seems colder now, or maybe that’s just me—chilled by the close call, by the reckless urge that almost undid me. I wrap my arms around myself, warding off the shiver that wants to take hold, and make my way back to the sanctuary of the library, where stories are the only things that sweep youoff your feet, and dreams don’t come with dangerous strings attached.
Next time, I’ll pick up the 1970 Corvette auto mechanic volume instead. That will keep my mind off my body’s responses and these three Alphas who I can’t stop thinking about.
CHAPTER 20
KAYLA
An hour later, I’m still in the library. My fingers fumble against the pages of the Corvette manual, the musky scent of ink and oil fighting a losing battle against the relentless tide of sleep pulling me under. My eyelids droop, shutting out the overhead light.
The world blurs, then fades, and I drift off, telling myself I’ll close my eyes for a minute.
Dane’s face materializes from a swirling haze—his intense stare that sees right through me. Lips that hint at velvet. His hands are rough and calloused as he cups my cheek. I instinctively lean into his touch, a jolt shooting down my spine as the coarse stubble grazes my skin.
“Kayla,” he murmurs, sending delicious shivers down my spine. Slowly, he dips his head, and his lips meet mine. It starts softly, a tentative sensation full of a tenderness that feels so foreign in my fucked-up world. I kiss him back, fierce and demanding, my fingers tangling in his hair, drawing him closer, desperate to feel every inch of him pressed against me.
Now, Liam’s piercing green eyes hold me captive. There’s no tenderness in their depths, only a raw possessiveness thatmirrors the wildfire igniting in my gut. He yanks me toward him, his mouth slamming into mine. This kiss is a brutal collision, a battle for dominance I don’t necessarily want to win. Not entirely.
A guttural moan escapes my lips, a sound of dark desires. His hand digs into the small of my back, pressing me into him with a possessive urgency. I feel every hard line of his body. I crave more—more heat, more pressure, more Liam. My hands instinctively roam across his solid chest. Our kiss consumes me, leaving me breathless and wanting more.
Then Ryker steps up. Smoke and leather, his scent, fills the air. Without warning, he rips me from Liam’s grasp, his touch possessive, bordering on painful. It’s a primal claim.
“Kayla,” he growls, the word a possessive rumble that has my pussy tightening in anticipation.
He pins me against the wall, his kiss a wildfire scorching through me. It isn’t gentle, it’s all-consuming, and I’m powerless against the desire. My body dissolves into a mess of heat, touch, and a primal hunger gnawing at my insides.
Just as I teeter on the edge, drowning in the desires they awakened, I gasp awake. My breath hitches, ragged and uneven, the dream clinging to me like cobwebs. Confusion wars with a strange sense of arousal as I sit up, my heart hammering against my ribs.
