Page 107 of Gigi and the Gym Rats

And I don’t know why I feel so close to Casey, so protective of him. I’m not his family, not his alpha, but I feel a connection to him. And an attraction, let’s not forget.

I do feel protective of him. I want to take him in my arms, stroke his hair, make sure he’s okay. I suppose that’s normal for a beta.

For a mate.

He may not be interested in forming a pack with us, I think as we drive to the address James got for us. Without an omega, we can’t register formally as a pack. The theory behind it is outdated and backward, and I never gave it much thought.

I don’t mind if we don’t make it official. I don’t know if the guys would. I can’t imagine looking for another omega. Then again, despite the scent match, we didn’t know Casey not that long ago. It’s all an experiment, forming this new pack, seeing if we fit together, like a human puzzle, seeing if the glue holds.

It’s worth a shot. Oh, most definitely.

And making sure Casey is okay is worth everything.

This pack, the Black Dogs, they live in the small town. Which is good. Maybe I’ve watched too many gangster movies, but going out in the middle of nowhere to fight them over Casey sounds dangerous. They may have guns. They may have more people with them.

Grey surprises me by saying, “I’m calling to let the police know about this. Forcing anyone into a bond is illegal, even in a wild place like this. Even if it proves not to be true, we’re better off if the police knows about it.”

“They may not give a damn about an omega in distress and a bonding under duress,” Ronin says.

“With the new laws that passed ten years ago, I think they’re at least obliged to check it out,” Grey says.

“You seem to know a lot about the topic,” I say.

“Of omega laws? I’ve had omega friends over the years.” A shrug. “There has been a lot of injustice when it comes to designations. I felt it kind of like my duty to know how to protect them if I could.”

I rest my head on his shoulder, smiling, and Ronin reaches over me to ruffle Grey’s hair. “I like you,” I whisper and look up to see his cheeks coloring.

“You’re a bastard,” Ronin says. “Motherfucker. I tried so hard to convince myself I had no feelings for you, but you got my fucking heart.”

And Ronin tugs on Grey’s head until he’s leaning against him, and we’re both almost in his lap.

“Well, shit,” Grey mutters, but he’s still blushing and his eyes are all shiny with joy or tears, I don’t know.

I stretch up to kiss his cheek.

“Almost there,” Zayne says, and I find his eyes in the mirror, watching us, dark and warm.

“We’re ready,” I say.

We’re almost there. We’re feeling our bond tightening. We’ve never been so close to one another. Every moment we spend together, ever since we accepted our draw to one another, cements our ties. Because we really like and desire each other. Because every moment shows us another facet of our mates that we appreciate and admire.

And as Zayne rolls the truck in front of a three-story building and pulls on the brake, I know I’d give a lot to find out if Casey feels the same way.

* * *

We’ve left Sawyer outside to wait for the cops. He complained, but Zayne sort of growled and went all alpha on him and Sawyer just nodded and stayed put.

That’s some trick.

The building is run-down and dark. Very appropriate. It fits with what I’d expect, and it bugs me that this pack isn’t surprising me with a well-swept entrance and potted plants on the staircase landings. A prestigious pack, huh? Doesn’t look that way to me so far.

The Black Dogs.

I hate arriving with preconceptions and prejudices, but oh boy does this pack live up to its name.

This place feels more like a kennel than a place where people live, complete with trash strewn across the floor, peeling paint, graffiti on the walls, and a stench of urine and stale beer.

“I’d feel much better if you and Grey waited in the truck,” Zayne says as we go up the stairs.

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