Page 129 of Justice for Puck Bunnies

Mason’s nervous as all hell. He’s antsy and on edge, and it’s not simply from a rut.

Vin’s uncharacteristically quiet. He normally defers to Trick, but I think he knows what has to happen.

I needed to hear it from Trick. I need to know what he thinks and feels about me.

“You’ve got to earn it,” I say softly.

“Name it and it’s yours,” Mason immediately insists.

Trick scrutinizes me, that attentive gaze reading my expression as clearly as if it were his own.

“That’s not what she means,” Trick says. “We’re going to court you, Izzy. I have a lot of explaining to do and a lot to make up for. We all do. We’ll prove to you this is what we want. No lies. No games. Just us.”

I want to believe him.

Every cell in my body screams to agree.

“Okay, I’m willing to try,” I tell them.

* * *

If I’d been told over the summer that I’d be with a pack by the holidays, I’d have laughed until I passed out from oxygen deprivation.

Yet here I am, anxiously waiting in the omega’s entrance to the Addevale Grand Theater.

I’ve already taken a few pics of the building for each of the guys’ accounts. I’ve resumed managing their online presences, in exchange for the going rate of course, and places like the theater show how well-rounded they are.

The soft carpet of the little room at the back of the building is gentle on my feet in sky-high heels. Muted colors and lighting are calming. It contrasts sharply from my brilliant blue dress wrapped in a silver sash like a present.

Last night it was a hilarious ballroom dance class. The day before it was ax throwing.

In the span of only a month, we’ve engaged in every date idea that exists. When they’ve had days off, we’ve spent it just wandering around. We’ve perfected staying just long enough before someone rats us out to the gossips and paparazzi and we have to run for it.

It’s done wonders for the avalanche of endorsement requests and local sponsorships, now that the Wyatt Pack is officially declared.

They’ve found little ways to personalize it for me. Sometimes it’s an off-handed comment I made once. Sometimes they simply want to share a new experience. I go to every home game, but I watch from the box now. No one bothers me.

And every day, often multiple times a day, they each message me to check in and share their lives. I can’t stay in their house, and it’s like having a view into the outside world while I’m stuck in Jolie’s living room.

When they first started courting me, I assumed things would calm down after a few days. The newness would wear off.

It hasn’t. My guys are attentive and generous. I’ve never known anything like this before. The focus scared me at first, but I’ve settled into it.

They want me for me.

Tonight, they’ve taken me to a musical about star-crossed lovers. He’s in a pack and she’s the long-lost best friend of his alpha who broke his heart. It’s supposed to make us both laugh and cry.

I’d rather they unwrap me instead.

It’s been a very long, very frustrating month, but I’ve refused to fall back into bed with them.

First, because we needed the Admin to not yank our courtship approval. That fucking chip on my arm was the bane of my existence.

But also, I needed to be sure this had a foundation. Brad’s taught me one thing—I’m not rushing into any irreversible decisions.

That is, admittedly, counterintuitive to my goals for the evening.

See, the Admin has finally cleared me. The therabitch signed off on my “fitness” today. The chip is gone.

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