Page 57 of Pack Frenzy
He points at me. “And ring toss.”
That gets a real laugh out of me. “You planning on winning me a stuffed animal too?”
“Cassian already called dibs on a wolf, bear, or tiger,” he says, deadpan.
I groan, but the corner of my mouth betrays me. “Of course he did.”
Eli chuckles and turns back to the box.
He laughs, and for a second it’s easy to forget the tension still humming in the walls.
“Brightwater Bay,” I repeat, looking at the swimsuit again. “Guess I’ll need this after all.”
“Good,” he says. “Could use some fresh air. All of us could.”
He doesn’t sayespecially you,but I hear it anyway.
And maybe he’s right. Because the idea of leaving this house—of noise and light and pretending things are normal—doesn’t sound so terrible after all.
Actually, it sounds kind of perfect.
And that scares the hell out of me.
Because wanting things—wantingthem—feels like standing at the edge of a cliff in the dark. I don’t know what’s waiting at the bottom, but I know the fall’s gonna hurt.
Still. For a few days at a fair, with funnel cake, bad rides, and maybe a stuffed animal, I’ll pretend not to want.
Maybe I can let myself fall. Just a little.
CHAPTER 14
JESS
The flight blurs into a stretch of white noise and recycled air, the kind that tastes metallic on the back of my tongue. Lukewarm coffee and a bag of stale peanuts. The steady hum of engines makes my skull vibrate.
Cassian’s out before we even taxi, head tipped toward my shoulder, lashes dark against his cheek. His weight anchors me in a way I pretend not to notice, except I do notice. I notice everything about all of them.
Warmth bleeds through his shirt, and his breath evens out into something peaceful I’ve never managed myself. The piney scent of his shampoo mixes with his amber and black pepper scent, something that makes my hindbrain purr in a way I’ve spent years learning to ignore with other Alphas I’ve met. However, it somehow never seems to work with these three.
I should move. Shift away. Reclaim the armrest and the careful distance I’ve maintained since we left. But my body won’t cooperate. It wants to sink into this, into him, like I have any right to.
Rowan claimed the window seat on my other side when I said it didn’t matter when we boarded. Now he stares through itlike he can make the clouds move faster by glaring. I catch him watching us once in the reflection with a tight jaw, gaze gone in the next breath, and heat crawls up the back of my neck like I’ve been caught.
Guilt twists low in my stomach. Or maybe a longing for something I can’t name.
Eli, in the aisle across from us, charms the flight attendant into two bags of pretzels “in the name of research,” and gets the kind of grin people reserve for puppies and bad pick-up lines. His laugh cuts through the cabin, bright and easy, and I feel it like ice trailing down my spine. He glances back at me and winks, shamelessly, and I blush before I can stop it.
This was a mistake. This whole trip was a mistake.
By the time the wheels hit tarmac, I’m vibrating from caffeine, nerves, and the pressure of too much stillness—too much proximity to three men who make me feel like my skin doesn’t fit right anymore.
The Uber driver doesn’t talk much. Wind slips through the half-open windows, carrying salt through the tang of engine oil and air freshener. I close my eyes and breathe until the highway turns into side streets and the glow of the city fades behind us.
I’m in the back between Cassian and Rowan, two Alphas that are clouding my judgment and making it hard to focus on anything but them. Eli rides up front with the driver, taking pictures of the scenery with his phone.
Cassian’s thigh presses against mine in the backseat. Just an inch of contact, burning through denim. There’s room to move, but neither of us does.
“You okay?” he murmurs, voice low enough that only I can hear.
