Pack Darling, Part One by Lola Rock

Thirty-Nine

LILAH

I crawl up the stairs.

Shit, it hurts.

Like my belly’s spaghetti, and the fork keeps twisting.

I need my mates.

Even if they’re not mine, even if I can’t keep them, they’re the only ones who can help through this pain. I don’t care what it means for my life if they accept me.

I’ll do anything to stop the pain.

A wracking cramp sends me to my knees at the top of the steps. I cry out, curling into a ball.

When the uterus-sawing sensation bites down, and I start to think I should turn back and hide, I taste their scents. The chance at relief keeps me moving.

I have to keep pushing.

Have to get to them.

Their sounds echo from the nest. Grunts and soft curses that sound like music, all in their voices.

It takes me a while to claw all the way up to the third floor when I can’t walk and every hand, knee up is thumbtacks kneading my guts.

The door’s ajar.

I crawl onto the landing and peek through the crack.

Orion’s stripped, gold and pink skin exposed.

Naked, showing off the thick thighs I’ve seen in my wettest, wildest dreams, Atlas holds Orion back to chest, working over the silver mark of his mating bite from behind while Finn crouches between Orion’s knees, his head bobbing up and down.

Finn’s broad, bare back blocks my view, but between Orion’s half-lidded, blissed-out expression, his brain-melting moans, and the long, slurping sucks that drill straight into my pussy, I want to throw myself into the nest crotch-first like a slutty ring toss and pray I land on a cock.

Hunter and Jett crouch at Orion’s side, touching him, whispering sweet things, all of them holding him in a perfect circle of warmth and trust and pleasure.

A shirtless circle.

That’s where I want to be.

I was dripping before I made it here, but I watch long enough to spring a waterfall between my legs. Fuck, do I need them and my body’s bragging we can totally take all five at once.

Hashtag goals.

Orion’s spine arches as Finn growls encouragement. When Orion comes, abs and thighs shaking, he looks like an angel. He moans velvet and sin, and Atlas devours the sound with a growling kiss.

A strangled whimper slips from my lips because I can’t.

Three alpha faces whip toward me.

Finn’s too busy to stop.

“I…” I push the door a little wider.

I need to make some eloquent speech. Give a clear reason why they should help me. But my mind is mush, my vision haze, and my throat taken over by drunken, mind-numbing cider. Even if I’d planned a monologue—which, why would I, when offering my heat is the opposite of everything I ever said wanted—words don’t come out.

I’m hypnotized by Finn and Orion. They’re loving their blowjob so hard I wish I hadn’t made that noise, because I need to watch until the glorious finish.

I try to take a deep breath, center my chakras and stow my mental baggage in the overhead compartments, but sucking in the scent of Orion’s sweet heat, all I can do is whimper.

Get your shit together!

This is a big ask.

The biggest of my life.

When the words stick in my throat, the moment dragging too long, Jett’s upper lip curls and Atlas pulls Orion tighter.

Defensivelytighter.

Even Hunter shifts, squaring up to me and folding his arms across a jacked, tattooed chest where he may as well ink an extra warning—do not enter!

A sick premonition rots my belly.

I have to say something.

Words!

“My—”

“Not the time,” Atlas growls, a bass rumble in his chest. It’s the deep, warning sound that would have my inner omega running to hide under all the blankets if we weren’t so busy being gutted. “Get the fuck out.”

“You heard him.” Jett’s cold, dark gaze hits like the abyss. “You don’t belong here.”

“But, I—”

“Shut the door, Lilah. We’ll deal with it later,” Hunter says, already turning away from me.

Finn never even looks. Like he doesn’t hear me. Like I don’t exist.

While my heat burns me to ash, one sub-zero thread of ice cuts into my chest, all ragged, bloody shards that slice a little deeper with every pump of my shattering heart.

I could step inside. Force my perfume on them.

My pheromones would change this game in a caramel-soaked second.

But I already have their answer.

“Get. Out,” Atlas growls possessively, flashing teeth as he hugs Orion like I’m here to rip away his mate.

It’ll never be me in their arms.

Never. Be. Me.

Orion reaches, but I know he doesn’t know what he’s doing. His hand lands in Finn’s messed-up hair. Orion tips his head back with a soft, throaty moan that draws their attention back where it belongs.

Like I never existed.

My knees give out, my stomach cramping as I pull the door shut.

I let out a strangled sob.

I should’ve known better.

I did know better, and still I hoped, still I wanted—

Stupid.

Stupid.

Stupid.

I drag myself down the stairs. Just the thought of standing up straight sends knives stabbing through my belly. I want to run, run far way, and never see this house, or these alphas again, but I can’t even crawl without losing my grip every few steps.

I finally stumble into the basement, wrists and knees aching, ignoring the tears that drip onto the cement and the growing, gnawing pain in my chest and core.

I’m tired.

I’m so fucking tired of never being enough. Never being chosen. Always being the one who’s thrown away.

Even by my mates. My fated mates.

Fate is fucking bullshit.

I won’t chase anymore.

Not Wyvern Pack or anyone else.

I’m done begging and crying and moping. Even if I’m not done with this pain… I’ll get through it on my own.

Not because I’m a sad pathetic loner, but because I’m strong and powerful, and I can do anything I want.

That’s what I’m going to do from now on.

I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want, because if hiding hurts this much in the end, why be afraid of taking risks?

I crawl into the shower, turn the water to burn-your-face-off, but it’s not enough. I need to be submerged. I need the world to stop, the sensations to stop, the hurt to stop.

I inch out of the steam, and my arms and legs wobble.

I can’t make it to the lake like this.

Fucking hell.

I’ll drown if I try to find relief there, and I don’t want to die, it just feels like maybe I should.

My arms give out in front of the supply closet.

The door hangs open, and I press my cheek on the cool floor, curled up until I spot the big metal barrels of de-scenter.

It’s the worst idea I’ve ever had, but being underwater—even under chemicals—sounds like bliss.

I climb to my feet like I’m summiting Everest, and claw off the barrel’s lid with shaking fingers.

The chemical sent blows me back, making my eyes water. It’s not as sharp as bleach, but you’d have to be a special kind of damaged to think I should take a bath in here.

I never claimed to be smart.

Holding onto the metal shelving, knocking down stacks of toilet paper and tissues, I swing a foot over the lip. The chemical soaks up to my ankle. I flinch, expecting a burn, because this shit is caustic, but it’s nice and cool when it touches my heat-torched skin.

I dip my leg.

I swear, the last time I spritzed myself with this stuff it stung, but now it’s…nice. The chemical scent sears Orion out of my system, and the thick, room-temperature liquid is honestly soothing.

Or maybe it’s just that everything else hurts.

A wicked cramp folds me in half.

My core clenches, confused.

Like, it’s not complicated, Lilah. Just sit on a cock and this can all go away.

No thanks.

I step into the barrel and crouch until everything below my chin is submerged. My throat and eyes burn.

Clutching my knees to my chest, balancing against the sides of the barrel, I feel like I can ride this thing out. Never mind that the cramps keep getting worse. From thumbtacks to nails to cherry red, molten lava monster swords.

Never mind that pain steals my focus, forcing it to the throbbing spot deep inside me that’s never going to be satisfied.

I can ride this out.

My breathing sounds harsh in my ears, everything else silent.

Maybe I’m hallucinating, or maybe the HVAC system wants me dead, because the longer it’s quiet, the more positive I am that I can hear the fivesome happening three floors up.

Orion’s knot-gasm moans. Alphas grunting and roaring. And a rhythmic, insane-paced pounding that makes me clench in jealousy and despair.

A flinch sends me slipping under.

I scrunch my face, ready for more pain, but there’s nothing.

Just the chemicals worming into my nose, and I’d much rather that than the burnt sugar scent of my traitor body.

I pop up one more time, splashing to block out the porn soundtrack echoing through the pipes. Taking a huge breath, I dip back under, hold myself down with claw hands on metal, and start counting heartbeats.

Wave after wave of cramps bite down and shake without letting go.

I keep counting, counting, popping up to breathe, then down, losing myself in the pain and the numbers, chanting.

I can survive anything.

The second the heat fades, I’ll escape while the Wyvern pack is busy with their real omega.

To my cabin in the woods, a new city, a new life. It doesn’t matter as long as I’m free.

Another cramp wracks me so hard I bite my tongue.

I taste blood.

All I have to do is survive.