Pack Darling, Part One by Lola Rock

Eleven

LILAH

I runand run and run.

I run until I literally can’t anymore, and my body finally gives out. I land in soft grass.

Better that than a pricker bush, because I have no control over where I fall. I manage to throw my hands out, stopping myself from face planting, but that’s it.

I lie like a stepped-on slug, panting and gasping.

After a while, I realize it’s not my vision that’s dark.

It’s twilight.

And I’m wearing nothing but a bathing suit, surrounded by trees in a strange wilderness with no idea how to get back to the house where the demons live.

Stupid.

It’s not like I have a phone or anyone to call for help. I doubt Evgenia even packed my cracked tablet—those are OCC-issue. My pack should be in charge of outfitting me now, but we all know they’re not going to give me shit.

They don’t want me.

Which shouldn’t hurt, because I also don’t want them, but no one ever said omega instincts make sense.

I manage the energy to sniff my pits.

Thank all the holies, all I smell is sweat. No pheromones. For now.

But my reaction to the Wyvern pack isn’t normal.

I’ve never sought out alphas, but when I bump into them, my first reaction is repulsion. Second, comes the fear.

Until the Wyvern pack. Their pheromones are catnip and cocaine.

Addictive.

Irresistible.

Terrifying.

I wish the OCC had given me a shittier education, but for all its bullshit, the classes do explain everything about omegadom from top to bottoming.

I know what this means.

A scent match.

Destiny. Fate. My meant-to-be mates.

Omegas have an extra fail-safe when it comes to finding our matches. We don’t need to be awakened to recognize their scents.

To them, my scent is nothing.

To me, theirs is everything I can never have.

I refuse to let them recognize me, to see me any deeper than they already have when it felt like they were staring into my soul.

If they figure out what I am, I’ll be trapped with a pack that would rather see me dead than in their beds.

I refuse to be bound, let alone become a home-wrecker. After years of bullshit omega brawls, the last thing I’ll ever do is steal another omega’s mate. If anyone had bothered to mention—oh, by the way, we’re placing you in a pack that already has a mated omega—I never would’ve signed that offer.

Never ever.

I would’ve gone into rotation or made my escape, but I never would’ve signed.

Orion must be going insane with jealousy.

I know I would be if some bitch strutted into my nest, trying to steal a tasty piece of man steak like Atlas and—

No. Nope. Not going down that insane rabbit hole.

It’s good enough that they’re willing to let me stay in their basement. Honestly, maybe I am perfect for this pack. If they need an omega who’s expert at going unseen, there’s no better ghost.

I just can’t haunt them too long when they smell like a goddamn buffet so tempting I want to load my plate with every flavor and lick them clean.

First, I have to drag my stupid ass out of these woods.

I wasn’t so spaced out on the drive that I didn’t keep an eye on the front console. The dash map showed the lake, which is why I beelined there.

Running makes me feel better.

Swimming makes me feel best.

Since I swam straight across the lake, there should be a road somewhere to my right.

It takes a few more minutes to gather enough energy to stand, but the darkening sky kicks my ass into gear. I wobble upright and wince. My feet are wrecked, full-on bloody and stinging now that I can feel anything but numb.

I shiver like a North Pole elf who forgot her parka.

It’s not that cold, but who’s the genius prancing around in a damp bathing suit?

Fear gives me a second wind. I cannot get stuck out here all night.

Navigating as best I can, I leave the thickest part of the trees, heading toward what I hope is civilization.

The moon is bright enough to light my path.

After hiking long enough to leave my feet screaming, I hear the hum of cars zooming over asphalt. It’s only when I pop out in a drainage ditch, climbing up toward the road, that I realize the flaw in my plan.

Hitchhiking is a thing that people do.

But not omegas, even scentless, unawakened ones.

I can’t trust strange alphas.

If the driver’s a beta it’s probably fine, but the problem is, I don’t trust anyone.

I’d rather curl up in this ditch than ask for help from yet another person who wants to use me, hurt me, or straight-up sell me off.

Again.

I promise myself I’ll look up how to set up a lean-to and an organic farm, so the next time I’m lost in the woods, I can just stay fucking lost and solve all my problems.

Tonight, I’m too cold and hungry to sleep in a ditch, no matter the risk.

I climb up and stand on the shoulder, hugging my waist, shivering, and waiting for a car to pass. We must be farther out in the boonies than I realized because it’s a few minutes before headlights appear.

I stick out my thumb like the movies. The car flies by.

I start walking toward Wyvern McManor. If I have to, I can trudge all the way back, but my feet seriously ache. Trail running barefoot wasn’t my brightest idea.

I wasn’t even thinking. I was fleeing.

The second car honks as it zooms past, and I resign myself to a long, woozy walk. I just hope I can find the driveway.

It’s a while before the third set of headlights approaches, and a long line of bloody footprints stamps the ground behind me. I half-heartedly wave, not really expecting them to stop.

The pickup flies by.

As expected.

Until the brakes skrrrrrr.

The truck kicks into reverse and stops beside me. When the driver lowers his window, my heart drops to the pavement with a wet plop.

Hunter.

He smells like smoke and sweet liquor. I brace for my body’s betrayal, expecting my perfume to pop out and say hello, but thank goddess, I’m too exhausted for omega shenanigans.

Hunter’s jacked shoulders block my view of the passenger seat and pretty much everything else in the world because right now there’s only him, with his big brown eyes and sexy scent that has me torn between vaulting through the window and tucking and rolling to the bottom of the ditch.

“What are you doing out here, little omega?” His thick eyebrows lift as he scans me from my bare, bloody feet to the suddenly rock-hard nipples poking through the fabric of my swimsuit.

Traitors.

“Move,” a muffled voice says, and then Hunter’s shoved out of the way. Finn leans over the steering wheel, craning toward me. With dark red hair and sparkling green eyes, he licks his lips, pure mischief. “You need a ride?”

“Hop in.” Hunter nods to the backseat.

No way am I squeezing into the cab. I give it thirty seconds before I’m dry humping both of them.

I hobble around and climb the bumper, hauling myself into the truck bed. I crawl forward, then collapse. It feels so good taking the pressure off my feet.

Finn slides open the window in the back of the cab. “Scared of us, Omega?” His grin is all teeth. Maybe I’d be scared, but I taste his scent on the air.

He smells like blood oranges and sweet cream with a hint of smoky gunpowder. I gasp, and the taste coats my tongue, crawling down my throat like Finn’s already inside me.

Holy fuck,I’m weak for these guys.

It takes a second before I can do words again.

All the while, Finn watches, eyes glittering like he’s seriously enjoying himself.

“Glad you’re having fun.”

“You have no idea.” He shuts the window, and I sag, free of the overpowering scent of him as Hunter guns the truck.

I lie back, lulled by the wind and the rocking bed.

I’m not aware of anything else until the thunk of the hatch going down. Blinking, I find a red-headed demon hovering over me.

“What are you doing?” Finn tilts his head like a curious puppy.

“Resting?” I blink up at him, confused, trying to hold my breath. I start to sit, but the world spins, and my stomach jumps on this opportunity to rumble like an alien creature.

“Here.” Finn offers me a hand, pulling me up surprisingly gently. His touch is warm and satisfying as hot soup on a cold day. The good chicken noodle kind that fills up your soul.

Upright, I realize we’re nowhere near the house. Tall buildings surround a crowded parking lot. I smell frying oil and cigarettes.

“Are you sending me back to the OCC?” It sounds like an amazing idea at this point. At least there, I can be anonymous. With the Wyverns, I’m under an electron microscope.

“Nah. Just brought you along for the night. You want to come out with us?” Hunter leans against the truck bed in a long-sleeved shirt that clings to his cut chest, giving only the sneakiest peek of the ink winding the dark tan skin at his wrists and neck.

“I’ll wait here.” I bite my lower lip to keep myself from licking it in front of him.

“Finn. Go find her some clothes.” Hunter lets out a breath. “Not really a request. We’re not leaving you alone in our truck.”

“Why not?” It’s not like they care what happens to me.

They don’t want me.

“Knew she’d be fun.” Finn laughs as he slides down to the ground. He disappears, leaving me alone with Hunter, who leans over the edge of the truck bed, watching with hawk eyes. His dark brown hair is cut short on the sides, but the wind teases the longer part on top, making me itch to push it away from his face the longer he keeps looking.

Too intense.

I can’t hide, so I slink until my back hits the cab, curling my knees to my chest, sitting on my hands, and tucking my feet under me so he can’t see the blood.

My stomach rumbles again, cutting the silence like an earthquake.

Hunter curses. “You haven’t eaten since this morning?”

I haven’t eaten in days. “I’ll be fine.”

“We’re not trying to starve you.”

I shrug. There’s never been a day I could eat as much as I want whenever I want. The OCC’s meal plans are expensive. I opted into the lowest tier as soon as I was old enough to realize how much I already owed. Then I was busy ducking omegas who wanted to jump me, skipping the dining hall, skipping meals. The trainers reduced my rations for any little thing from talking back to fighting back when I was cornered. Eventually, I realized hunger was a necessary evil if I wanted to drag out my awakening.

The longer Hunter watches, the tighter I curl into myself.

He’s not just watching me. I feel like he can see my whole dark history and all my secrets.

I wilt under his gaze.

Waaaaay too intense.

Finally, Finn appears, dropping a rumpled wad of cloth into the truck bed.

I chew my lip. I don’t really have to go, right?

“Change,” Hunter orders. There’s no bark, but his deep, husky voice is its own command.

I dig into the bundle.

It’s a skimpy black dress with lace cutouts. The fabric smells like powder detergent or a neutral beta scent, but I catch a whiff of oranges where Finn’s pheromones cling.

I hate myself for wanting to bury my nose in it.

I slip the dress over my swimsuit, then start to figure out how to slide on the matching thigh-high leggings.

“Shit.” Finn clambers into the truck bed, grabbing my ankle. “What happened to your feet?”

They don’t feel that bad, but when he gently turns my foot, even I wince. The bottom’s a sheet of blood, all embedded with dirt and pebbles. “I’ll clean them when we get back.”

“You’ll clean them now,” Hunter growls. “Grab her.”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Finn scoops me up.

All I can do is yelp before I’m ass-up over his shoulder, my face pressed into his lower back. He slides down from the truck bed, gripping me firmly behind the knees.

Finn’s nose bumps my thigh and I feel him sniff me.

A shiver rolls through my body, lighting me up in the most dangerous way. “Put me down!”

“No chance, Babydoll.” Finn pats my calf.

Hunter grabs something from the cab, then locks the truck behind us, and I don’t bother struggling. I need to save my energy.

I can’t see anything but Finn’s tight ass in his jeans.

All I can do is hang, pressed against his heat, trying not to squirm or pant over the lickable strip of lower back muscles revealed when my weight tugs up his shirt. It’s torture sucking in the scent of him, and all I can do is pray I’m too tapped out to perfume.

Finn carries me through a door, and I’m hit with a wall of humidity, noise, and hundreds of foreign scents that make me go rigid.

“Almost there.” Finn rubs the back of my leg, pressing it tight to his chest. His touch shouldn’t be comforting, but we’ve established that I’m broken.

“Put her here,” Hunter says.

There’s a scraping sound before Finn plops me down into a bar chair.

I blink. Finn steals the tall chair next to me and waves for the bartender while Hunter drapes a zip-up hoodie over my shoulders.

His scent soaks the fabric. Honey and smoke and something sharper. I grab the stool to keep myself from dragging the sleeves to my nose.

“What can I do for you tonight, alphas?” A pretty blonde bats her lashes from behind the bar.

“Loaded cheese fries, a plate of wings, and your first aid kit.” Hunter doesn’t even look at the girl, busy zipping the hoodie up to my chin.

I can’t move.

I don’t know if I want to flip up the hood and snuggle into the shirt or rip it off and bolt. Or just give in to the inevitable and jump Hunter so we can skip to the part where the pack tosses me away.

“And two shots of mezcal,” Finn adds, swiveling his chair until his knees pin mine in place.

I’m trapped.

Trapped, but it could be worse.

It’s warm here, they’re being nice, and I heard something about cheese fries.

I can stick this out. All I have to do is keep my perfume tucked in and pretend my inner omega isn’t already bent over and begging for them.

“Here.” The blonde slides a white box across the bar. “I’ll be right back with the drinks and food.”

Hunter pushes Finn out of the way and kneels between my knees.

My body short-circuits.

Some unspeakable part of me wants to spread my legs wide and see what happens. My self-protective instinct wins. I recoil, hugging my knees tight to my chest.

“Easy,” Hunter says, softly touching my ankle. “You need these taken care of.”

“You don’t have to—”

“But I’m going to.” Hunter draws down my foot, and I feel myself easing under his hands. “Relax.”

I do what he says, letting him take over.

Finn ignores the chaos of the sports bar from the flashing screens to the beautiful betas strutting past in clouds of manufactured pheromone perfume that makes me wrinkle my nose. Bass thumps, women laugh, and alphas growl. Maybe it’s been too long since I’ve eaten, or maybe I finally pushed myself too hard, but everything’s swimmy and unreal.

Finn swivels back and forth in his chair, floating above the chaos while Hunter cleans my cuts, and it feels like the three of us are in our own bubble.

“It’ll hurt,” Hunter warns before dabbing on the disinfectant.

I clench my jaw and don’t let out a peep. I don’t need him thinking I’m any weaker, even though it stings like I’m wearing beehives for slippers.

“Shit. You ran on these?” He scrubs at the dirt, making my muscles clench in protest. “Sorry. There’s gravel we need to get out.”

“I lost my sneakers.” I’ll have to backtrack my steps tomorrow. My only other shoes are a pair of shower sandals held together by duct tape and prayer. “You don’t have to—”

“But I am,” Hunter insists.

By the time he’s dabbing on antibacterial ointment, making me squirm with every gentle touch, the bartender reappears, sliding over a basket of steaming fries and two tiny glasses of murky gold liquor. “Wings’ll be right up.”

“Here.” Finn holds out a fry slathered in cheese and bacon and who knows what else, but it looks outrageous. “Try.” He lifts it to my lips.

Lord help me, I take the bite.

Cheese and potato explode on my tongue, scalding hot, but too fucking delicious to do anything but moan. I’ve never tasted food this good.

“Babydoll.” Finn’s voice is so fucking husky it could pull a sled. “I’ll feed you all night if you keep making those sounds.”

I blush.

I need to stop, but Finn dips a second fry in ranch sauce, and I’m only flesh and blood. I open for him.

He feeds me the fry, fingers lingering on my lips.

When I lick the sauce, my tongue catches a sweet taste of oranges.

I moan, covering my mouth.

So good.

Finn keeps feeding me with a single-minded determination I can’t resist while Hunter wraps my arches in gauze.

One alpha at my feet, another hand-feeding me. I’m pretty sure I should be freaking out, but melty cheddar is some kind of drug. All I want to do is sit and be pampered.

“This next.” Finn presses the shot glass into my fingers.

“What is it?” I sniff the liquor. It smells like liquid smoke, but sweeter.

“Hunter in a glass. He’ll warm you up and make you forget those feet.”

“Finn,” Hunter rumbles a warning. “You can’t make her drink mezcal.”

“What? I’m not making her. Am I making you?”

“No.” He really isn’t. Besides, alcohol is a downer, great for suppressing my pheromones. I’ve never tasted any except for a few sips of champagne at OCC events I snuck into. I liked the little bubbles.

“Cheers.” Finn clinks his glass to mine.

“Cheers?” I dump the shot into my mouth, not waiting to see if he does the same.

It burns.

I clap a hand over my face, almost spluttering, swallowing down the liquid smoke. It’s rich and deep and sweet.

Just like the man between my legs.

“How do you like taking Hunter between those lips?” Finn smirks.

“Delicious,” I answer, still savoring the smoke on my tongue. Then I realize what he said. “I mean. No. Not… That’s not…”

“Ignore Finn. Everyone does.” Hunter stands, closing up the kit.

I wiggle my bandaged toes. Thanks to his magic touch or maybe the liquor burning a hole in my stomach, I feel weirdly comfy and light. “Thank you.”

“Eat more.” Finn holds up another bite, this time a chicken wing I didn’t notice being delivered.

I reach for it. “I can—”

“No way.” He snatches the wing away. “Let me.”

I’m too hungry to argue. He wants to play games, I can play. I need them all to see me as sweet and harmless. I need them to tolerate having me around for as long as it takes to plan my escape.

All the better if they like me. Then we’ll have no drama, and I’ll just hide in their basement until I can disappear.

I nibble the wing and my eyes roll back at the taste of sweet barbecue sauce.

I’ve had worse days.