Page 54 of Pack Frenzy
Another handful over my neck.Get it together.
The last time I lost control, it cost us everything— Meredith dead, Blake’s jaw shattered, months of Eli and Rowan looking at me like I was a loaded gun with a broken safety.
And now Jess shows up, smelling like sunlight and trouble, and my whole body forgets every rule I ever made.
I stand, water dripping down my collar. My pulse slows. Barely. The Alpha in me settles half an inch below the surface.
Told myself that she’s just another Omega. Temporary. Ninety days and she’ll leave. Like she should.
But that lie doesn’t stick.
Because the image still slips in—the way her hand brushed mine when I showed her how to brace the fence boards, her fingers lingering half a second too long. The way she looked up at me after. Not scared. Not submissive. Justseeingme—the me under the snarl.
It shouldn’t have mattered. But it did.
I grit my teeth and head back down the ridge before that thought breeds more.
By the time I reach the property line, the sun’s bleeding out behind the trees. The porch light’s on. Windows glowing gold—the kind of warm that looks like safety if you’re far enough away.
I don’t step into the light. Not yet.
From here, I can hear pans clatter, Eli’s voice low and steady. Rowan’s probably upstairs, pretending not to listen for her footsteps.
I rub a hand over my face. Skin tight. Chest full.
This is just biology.
Has to be.
Except I don’t buy it anymore. Not when every nerve in my body’s memorized her name.
My thumb finds the band-aid she wrapped around my knuckle. The sting grounds me just enough. I push off the railing and reach for the door.
The hinges creak when I open it.
Lust rolls over me, thick with scent—Eli’s clean linen and bergamot, Rowan’s rain and sandalwood, and under it all, that faint sweetness that belongs to her. It’s not even strong anymore, but my body finds it first.
“Subtle,” Eli says without turning.
I flip him off and grab a glass from the cabinet. The fridge air hits my face when I open it, cold relief for half a heartbeat.
Last time I said a woman’s name, it was Meredith’s, and I swore I’d stop giving any female that power. Then Jess walked in, and my throat forgot the promise.
“You gonna stand there all night or drink something?” he asks.
I shut the door hard enough to rattle the magnets. Fill the glass. Half gone in one swallow. Doesn’t help.
Eli stirs a creamy Alfredo sauce on the stove. “I’m taking bets on how long you last before you crack.”
“Fuck off.”
“Three weeks,” he says, grinning. “Maybe less.”
I stop. Set the glass down too hard.
He finally turns. “What? I’m just saying, Cassian—you’re wound tighter than barbed wire. It’s obvious.”
“Drop it.”
