Page 151 of Pack Frenzy
Blake’s smirk flashes in my mind’s eye. The way he looked at Omegas like they were product. The way his gaze snagged on Jess at that damn banquet, like he was shopping.
If I’d put my hands around his throat right there, he’d be dead. I’d be in a cell. And Jess… My jaw locks. Jess would be shoved back into Nexus or handed off to another Alpha or even Blake like a delivery. That idea makes my vision go white and my hands go looking for something to break.
“And,” I say, hauling myself back from that edge. “I was trying to keep you at arm’s length until we knew what the hell we were doing. Didn’t really work.”
She snorts softly. “No. You still wound up tangled in my nest with me.”
“And you still ended up in my head.” The words surprise me as much as her. I’m not the one who says this shit out loud. “Congratulations. You win. Prize is three overprotective guys and a lifetime supply of Gatorade.”
Her eyes shine. She pretends they don’t. “Not a bad deal.”
Down the hall, the shower cuts off. Pipes clank as the water line resets. We’ve got seconds before we’re not alone.
Good. Bad. I don’t know.
“There’s something I need to tell you about Blake,” she says.
“Don’t worry about Blake,” I say, voice dropping into that place inside me that plans violence. “No one is putting a hand on you without going through me, Jess. Not him, not his bosses, not some bored Nexus council member who thinks you’re a resource.”
Her breath catches. Fear flickers in her scent for half a heartbeat, then melts into something steadier. Trust.
“I know,” she whispers. “I believe you.”
“Good.” My jaw clenches until it aches. “I’ll put them in the ground and build myself a deck over them. Have beers on their graves.”
Her laugh comes out wet, a little broken. “Very you.”
The door opens without a knock.
“We’re instituting a knocking rule,” I call, but I don’t look away from her.
“We’ve all seen everything there is to see, Cassian,” Eli says as he steps in, towel looped around his neck, hair damp. He’s holding three bottles of Gatorade like he raided a sports drink shrine. “At this point, modesty’s a myth.”
Rowan fills the doorway behind him, broad shoulders, t-shirt clinging to still-damp skin. The sharp, clean bite of his soap slices through the dense nest scent, making me suddenly aware of how rough Jess and I probably smell.
His eyes go straight to Jess, and the way she’s draped over me, worn-out but not burning.
“Temperature?” he asks quietly.
“Down,” I answer. “Instinct’s not chewing our faces off anymore.”
Jess turns her head toward them, cheek still pressed to my chest. “You guys smell like rain,” she mumbles.
Eli’s grin is instant and stupidly bright. Relief makes him reckless. “That’socean breeze for sensitive skin, actually. Don’t be jealous of my self-care routine.”
Rowan gives him a look, then moves closer to the nest. His gaze catches on the empty bottles, the wrappers, the general carnage. His mouth tightens, the way it does when he calculates risk.
“You two drink anything while we were gone?” he asks.
I nudge a half-empty water bottle closer with my foot. “We didn’t die. That count?”
“Barely,” Eli mutters. He climbs onto the nest on Jess’s far side, careful as if she’s made of blown glass. He cracks a bottle and holds it out. “Hey, sunshine. Tiny sips, okay?”
Jess scrunches her face like the word “sunshine” personally offends her and pushes herself up on my chest. Her arms shake with the effort. I slide a hand from her back to her waist, steadying her.
Her fingers fumble on the bottle cap. I cover her hands with mine, twist the bottle open, bring it to her lips. She drinks, throat working, eyes half-closed. A trickle slides down her chin. I catch it with my thumb without thinking.
“Good girl,” I murmur. The praise slips out, low and rough.
