Page 8 of Pack’s Pledge

My hands grippedthe steering wheel tightly as Britt–Britt, Britt, Britt, my heart sang, despite the tension in my shoulders and my clenched jaw–settled in the back seat of my car. I fought against the urge to sigh, to relax into the feeling of her being here among us. It felt almost dangerously right.

“I told you she was gorgeous, didn’t I?” Adrian stage-whispered from the passenger seat back to Beau. I caught his wink out of the corner of my own eyes, fixed straight ahead at the road as I navigated the city streets, out of the warehouse district and back to the nicer part of the city. The place we’d decided on while waiting (with varying levels of patience) in the car wasn’t fancy, but it was significantly nicer than the divey bars that surrounded Ardor.

“You did, Adrian,” Beau acknowledged. “And you were right. She’s beautiful. It’s a crime for Ardor to keep her in that shapeless apron.” I could sense his arousal. Was he checking her out, his greedy eyes tracing her pristine form? “But maybe it’s a good thing. If those other packs had any idea she looked this good out of her uniform…”

I caught Britt’s eye just for a second in the rear view mirror before she looked away.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “for my, uh, packmates.” I cringed. “I keep telling them there’s only room for one inappropriately flirtatious man in this group, but they keep telling me they’d have to fight it out, and it wouldn’t be fair.”

She nodded, slowly, as my attention flicked between the road and the mirror, watching her as she blushed under Adrian and Beau’s attention. “Because an alpha is so much stronger,” she said.

“No,” said Adrian, turning around in his seat. “Because Beau is so damn sexy that we could never get through a whole fight.”

“All that sweat? Those muscles?” Beau agreed. “I might be weak compared to an alphaphysically, but that one,” he pointed to Adrian, “he couldn’t resist my omega allure for a full fight. There’s no way in hell.”

“I freely admit it,” Adrian said, and Britt laughed. I wanted to bottle the sound–it had been ringing in my ears for years and I’d never thought I’d hear it again. “So, we thought we’d go to a real bar, if that’s fine with you, Britt. Is that short for Brittany?”

“It’s just Britt,” I said, unthinking, then clamped my mouth shut.Someone I knew in high school,she’d said, as if she hadn’t been my first love. My only love.

What I had with Beau and Adrian… well, that was different. Pheromones, and sex, and biology.

Britt… I swallowed my sigh again.

I wanted to keep her as close as I could, and if that meant playing it cool, cooler than I wanted to, well, I could do that.

I thought.

I was pretty sure.

“Okay, Britt, then,” Adrian said. “So. Bar? Or there’s a twenty-four hour diner around here, too, but I don’t think they’d want us dancing there, and I was sort of thinking Beau might want to dance…”

“Bar is good,” she said, and my gut twisted, half excited, half… What? Scared?

I was analpha. I wasn’t supposed to bescared.

Not of anything, and especially not of abeta: I could benchpress a beta, male or female, almost without trying. Could knock one out–this one would be a male, of course–with one punch in a fight, although I hadn’t been in a real fight for years and years.

But this wasn’t just any beta, it was Britt, and I’d never wanted to benchpress her, or fight her. I’d only wantedher.

So yes, I could admit that I was scared. But I couldn’t quite tell what I was scared of: having her leave? Or having her stay?

“You like to dance, Britt?” Beau asked, as we pulled up to the curb outside the bar and I tossed my keys to the valet. Adrian helped Britt down from the car, then did the same for Beau.

“I’m not really dressed for it,” she said, but he shrugged her objection away.

“This place isn’t really like that. Beer, and live music on Thursdays. You’re dressed perfect.” Somehow, his arm was around her waist as he ushered her through the door. My own fingers itched to touch her, my instincts rearing up to stake my claim, to cover her in my scent.Down, boy.I followed them inside, keeping a careful distance.

“You look… thirsty.” Adrian asked from beside me. I leveled a glare in his direction, and he held up his hands, palms out. “Just asking if you want a beer,” he said, but the smirk on his punchable face said otherwise. I nodded anyway. I did want one. Anything to keep my traitorous hands busy. It was difficult to resist the temptation to touch her. “I’ll get your usual. But damn, Conall,” he said, shaking his head. “How the hell did you let her go?”

I’d be damned if I wasn’t thinking the same thing myself.

I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

CHAPTERSEVEN

Britt

Beau was right:I wasn’t underdressed. The room was packed, and I was thankful when Adrian returned from the bar with beers–both because I could use one, and because I was sure the bartender would be thankful for an easy drink.

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