Page 31 of Pack Fever

“Go on, tell me,” I urge, even though my knees are bouncing. I notice the other guys have left us alone, as if sensing the tense conversation.

“I told myself long ago that I have no intention of settling down. No Omega, no damn anything romantic… then you come bursting into my life.”

“Wow.” I’m taken aback. “Is that meant to make me feel sorry for you? It must be hard having the world revolve around you. Trust me, this isn’t my ideal situation, either.”

“It’s not that.” He sighs, and the vulnerability in his voice catches me off guard.

I study him closely—the clenching of his jaw and the way his hand still grips the door. He’s torn, that’s clear.

“What is it?” I ask.

“This whole car trip, I had to fight to keep my distance from you, knowing the moment I let down my guard, I’d rip off your clothes and make you mine. I have no fucking willpower around you, and I fucking hate myself for it.”

His words strike me like a cyclone. He’s already out of the car, the door shutting behind him. Striding toward the backyard with his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans, the white button-up shirt hugs him as his head hangs low.

What the fuck is that about? This has to be the strangest confession of maybe liking someone, except he doesn’t really want me. It’s his pheromones that make him drawn to me, and that’s why he’s fighting the urges.

Well, fuck him!

Jasper opens my door and offers me his hand.

I take it and step out.

“Did speaking to him help?”

“Hell, no!”

Jasper just chuckles, as if he expected nothing less.

“He’s afraid of commitment.”

“Yeah, I gathered that, except I never told him I wanted anything from him, so I’m not sure why he’s all moody about it.”

There’s no answer as Seth joins us, and with a smile, he cocks his chin toward the backyard.

“Let’s go.”

Jasper gives my hand to Seth, as if I’m a prize to be displayed, but I’d rather hold on to someone than walk into a party alone, looking like a groupie.

Walking down the side of the mansion, I’m taken aback by the beauty of the property—the flower gardens, the small water fountains dotted on the land, and the tiny bird houses hanging from trees they pass. Fairy lights circle the trees, casting a magical hue.

The aroma of barbecued food reaches me, and my stomach growls in response. I’m starving. There’s also the hum of voices and laughter coming from the back of the property.

As we turn the corner into the party, there’s a canopy stretched out from the rear of the house and tied to several trees in the yard. More fairy lights everywhere, elegant tables and seats near the open French doors that lead into the house, while plush couches line the edges. In the middle is a roaring fire surrounded by stones. It crackles, its flames dancing in the evening night. The atmosphere is lively, with about fifteen people mingling in the area, laughing and chatting.

“Hey everyone,” Seth calls out casually, a broad smile on his face, though I feel how his hand tenses in mine as if he’s not a fan of attending. “This is Danica, our gorgeous Omega,” he says, throwing an arm around my shoulders.

There’s a pause in the chatter, every eye on us, and I’m more than nervous with so many gazes on me. Half the crowd swarms us, and suddenly, I don’t know who to answer as they all ask me questions about where we met, if I sing with Seth, where I live… My head’s spinning, my stomach tightening.

By the time Seth gets everyone to give us space to breathe, I find Jasper and Reed chatting with others, chuckling, and exchanging hugs. Clearly, they’ve been to dozens of similar events with the family, as they all appear so friendly around one another.

Reed’s helping himself to drinks from the makeshift bar at the side of the party while Jasper’s chatting with two younger guys. It appears they’re gushing over him.

Seth leans in close, his breath on my ear, so close it’s impossible not to feel myself quivering in response. I’m still fangirling about who they are and also dealing with my body falling head over heels for these men. So, I’m aware of every touch, every stare, and every breath that reaches me.

“See, not so bad, right?” he says, standing there so casually in his black fitted jeans, shiny shoes, and a loose white T-shirt, just like the dozens of photos I’ve seen of him online. This whole thing feels surreal, as though I’m imagining it.

“So far, they seem normal enough,” I answer softly.

---