Page 45 of Pack Frenzy
For one perfect moment, I forget everything. The Institute, with its sterile walls and chemical suppressants. The rules I’ve broken and the ones I’m breaking now. The parts of myself I’ve been trying so hard to hide, to control, to deny.
The hum under my skin shifts into something heavier, hotter. My pulse stutters hard in my belly, and with it comes the unmistakable slick-sweet scent of arousal. Omega biology responding to Alpha proximity, to touch, to the promise of something I’m not ready to give.
The realization crashes over me like cold water. This isn’t safety or comfort or even simple attraction. This is gravity. This is the edge of a cliff I could fall off and never find my way back from.
I break the kiss, breath coming sharp and uneven. “No. Stop.”
He stops instantly. Completely. His hands open, palms up, giving me space before I even have to ask for it. “Okay.”
I press trembling fingers to my lips, still feeling him there. “I can’t. Not like this. I barely know you—barely know any of you. And my body...” I gesture vaguely, frustrated. “It’s not—this isn’t me,” I manage. “It’s my body trying to take over. I don’t—I can’t?—”
“You don’t owe anyone anything you’re not ready to give.” No judgment in his tone or frustration. “Not me, not Cassian, not Eli. Not ever.”
“I just... I need time.” The words feel inadequate. “To figure out what I actually want versus what my hindbrain is screaming at me to do.”
“You’ll have it.” He nods once, the motion precise and final. “But I’ll still need those names. Your friends.”
Suspicion creeps in despite the moment we just shared. “How do I know you’ll actually look? That you won’t just tell me whatever keeps me compliant?”
“You’ll have to trust me,” he says simply. Then, after a beat: “Or trust Eli. He’ll tell you when there’s news. He’s a terrible liar.”
A shaky breath escapes me that could almost be a laugh. “Will you tell him I was in here and tried to break into your laptop?”
“Not yet.” The corner of his mouth tilts—barely there, but real. “If I wanted to punish you, I wouldn’t start with words.”
My stomach flips. “That supposed to make me feel better?”
“It’s supposed to make you think,” he says. “About boundaries. About consequences. About the difference between testing limits and crossing them.”
A flush heats my face. “You kissedme.”
“You kissed me back.” His gaze holds mine, unflinching. “Leaned into it. Made that sound.”
He’s right, and we both know it. The truth sits between us…messy and complicated and impossible to deny.
The tension breaks first in his small exhale, then in the distant roar of the crowd on TV celebrating a win. Life resumes like the house didn’t just tilt on its axis, like everything didn’t just change.
Rowan steps aside, opening the path to the door. “Give me first and last names. Any identifying details that might help?”
“Okay.”
“And Jess?”
I turn in the doorway, pulse still unsteady.
“Thank you,” he says, and there’s something raw in it. Something genuine.
“For what?”
“For stopping. For knowing your limits. It’ll make the next yes mean something. When you’re ready to give it.”
The words lodge somewhere under my ribs, hot and unsteady and full of promise. I nod once, not trusting my voice, and slip out into the hallway. The scent of sandalwood trails after me, clinging to my skin, my clothes, my memory.
In the kitchen, Eli doesn’t look up from his cards. They whisper against the table in a steady rhythm—shuffle, cut, shuffle. “Water?”
“Yeah.” My voice comes out steadier than I expected.
He slides a glass across the counter, ice already crackling as it melts. “You okay?”
