Page 43 of Pack’s Pledge

“Shh,” he said. The sound resonated through his chest, into my own, and almost without thinking, I crashed hard and heavy into sleep.

* * *

“Well, that was intense,”Adrian said, rolling his head on his neck and he buttoning the last buttons on his shirt. He’d taken a shower, and aside from the purple circles under his eyes, he was looking like his usual self. He smiled at me. It didn’t quite reach his eyes.

All four of us were quiet, awkward.

Beau looked how I felt: pale and tired, sore all over, slightly lost, in our rumpled clothing from three days ago–me in my uniform shirt.I’ll have to drop it in the laundry hamper and get my things from my locker before we leave,I thought, and cringed. Everyone would know where I had been–all my coworkers, my manager, the security guards–and how long I’d been cloistered away. They’d see the dark circles under my eyes, the bruises on my neck, and know exactly where they’d come from.

Conall.

Conall, who was stiff and silent beside me, not meeting my eyes. Conall, whose scent I knew I carried–would carry for days, claiming me from the inside out.

Forget returning the uniform to the laundry, they’d never be able to get the scents out, even with their professional-grade detergents. Security came–a beta, though, this time, a man I didn’t recognize, not one of our regulars–and knocked on the door, somehow managing to convey both deference and disdain as he led us down the hallway and back through the closed club. My eyes hurt after days of soft lamplight and half-closed lids and not enough sleep, and I squinted for a moment as my eyes adjusted to the bright fluorescent lights that illuminated the scuffed dance floor, the sticky bar back, the smudged leather of the booths. Ardor, off-duty.

I’d need to start looking for a new job. I could brush up my resume tonight, have it in at a few places by tomorrow, Monday. No, Tuesday. The bruises would be gone by next week, if they wanted to interview or trial me.

I walked out the customer, not staff, entrance for the first time in I couldn’t remember how long, into the late-afternoon sunshine.

“You’re coming home, right?” Beau asked me, and I couldn’t quite tell what he meant, before he added, “to ours?”

“If you want me to,” I said, and he nodded.

“You need to rest,” he said. “We all do. Come sleep with me.Justsleep.” He winked, and I managed a smile. I’d work on my resume tomorrow. I owed it to him.

But after we showered and I’d changed into a soft pair of his sleep pants, a too-big white tee shirt, when he pulled back the sheets of his bed and moved over to make room for me beside him, even after his breathing grew deep and regular, I couldn’t fall asleep.

My body ached–my thighs, my abs, my neck, my breasts, between my legs, where I was bruised and tender–but it wasn’t my soreness that kept me from sleep.

My heart ached, too—for the man who slept beside me, strange and proud, long lashes fanned over slightly-sunken cheeks. For the man who’d eased us through our time together, his firm guidance tempered by the ready smile he’d retained through the depths of fever.

And for the man who I’d always loved. Who had split my body and my heart wide open, baring everything to him.

I slipped from Beau’s arms, letting myself out of his room silently before padding down the hall to Conall’s. I hesitated at the door, unsure. I lifted my fist to knock.

“Come in.” His familiar voice was roughened by lack of sleep.

“Conall,” I said, peering around the doorframe.

“Britt,” he growled, standing up. “What are you—”

“I have to tell you something,” I said. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for my confession: I can’t be half yours and half theirs, and not belong anywhere. I want to be yours, but I can’t be only yours. I want to be with you, but I want them, too. I want you, and I wantallof you.

I didn’t want just Conall, because it meant I wouldn’t have all of him, and I wanted it all.

The man.

And the alpha.

And… I hesitated as I saw him still, his shoulders tight and his jaw twitching.

“Please, Britt, don’t.”

I stood, frozen, just across the threshold, the door ajar behind me.

“I don’t want to hear it. I know it’s selfish. But I’m a selfish man. So please, just… Don’t say it.”

My chest squeezed painfully.

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