Page 2 of Pack Plus Three

“Come in,” I said, cutting her off before she could say anything else. “There’s plenty.” I opened my door, inviting her in.

Her face softened and she gave me a grateful look. “Are you sure?”

She has to have a partner, I reminded myself, no good will come of this.

But . . . I didn’t care.

She was absolutely captivating—and she wanted my food.

“My sister had a baby a few years ago. I remember how bad her cravings got. I’m pretty sure I once got a remote thrown at my head because I ate the last chocolate chip cookie.” As I spoke, I walked down the hallway, and Daisy followed me, peering around my apartment anxiously. Well, calling it my apartment was a stretch. It was my pet project. I usually lived with my pack, but this apartment had been in such a state of disrepair, we’d seen an opportunity. While this area wasn’t exactly desirable, the apartment had been a steal, and after a few months of fixing it up, we would be able to sell it for a tidy profit.

“Maybe it’s the hormones, but I say that’s totally fair!” She laughed, following me slowly. “I probably should have asked your name. Or asked if you’re a serial killer. Are you a serial killer? Actually, you know what? I don’t care, as long as you feed me first.”

“Jeremy,” I said, unable to take my eyes from her as we entered the kitchen. She was so adorable, rambling and asking if I was a serial killer—like I could ever hurt her. “Take a seat, I’ll grab you a dish.” I nodded at the small table as I went over to stir the gooey rice cakes.

Gilbert poked his head up from his dog bed, noticing our guest as she took a seat, holding her swollen belly as she did. Why was that so cute? I wanted a heavily pregnant omega of my own to spoil more than anything. Gilbert trotted over to her, a goofy, lopsided grin on his face.

“Oh! Hello, sweetheart,” Daisy cooed as Gilbert rested his head in her lap. “What’s your name?” she asked, gently stroking his head.

“Gilbert.”

“Oh, such a lovely name for a lovely boy!” She looked up at me, her expression so content as she scratched him. "He is perfect, I adore him!" she said, beaming wildly. Pride filled my chest because she liked my dog. Not the ratty thing that lived four doors down that looked like it was mutated in a lab. No, my dog was the one the pretty omega liked.

"He's a good dog." I smiled as I dished up two plates. “But I worry he doesn’t get enough attention when I’m at work.”

"What do you do?" she asked, looking up at me, still absentmindedly scratching Gilbert's ears.

"I'm a...” I paused, not wanting to ruin the moment with the truth. “A contractor.” That wasn’t an outright lie; it just wasn’t my only job. “What about you?”

“I do some admin work from home. I used to work at a bookstore and cafe, but this situation makes it a little difficult.” She gestured to her stomach again. “But I need to make ends meet, so working from home, it is!”

“Can’t your boyfriend or husband help you?” I asked, eyes drifting from where I was serving up the rice cakes, suddenly tense. I cleared my throat. “I just mean, you must be exhausted. My sister literally only ate and napped in the later months.”

I walked over to the table with two bowls, setting one in front of her and one next to her for me.

“I’m, uh...on my own,” she admitted, not meeting my eye. The smell of her unhappiness filled the room.

She was alone?

How the hell could someone leave her? There was no possible way she’d gotten into her current predicament alone, so she should have had at least one person by her side. Were she mine, I would be on her ass like glue, making sure she had everything she needed. Fulfilling every weird craving or giving three a.m. foot rubs, I would be there with a fucking smile on my face.

I wanted answers, but shit. I hadn’t meant to upset her.

“Chopsticks or fork?” I asked, changing the topic, my mind still racing.

“Chopsticks, if you have them. It feels wrong to eat this sort of food with a fork.” She smiled. “This smells so damn good,” she moaned, gently rubbing her belly, and I couldn’t take my eyes from her.

She had to be lying. No one would leave an omega like her alone. Not expecting.

“I agree.” I grabbed two sets from the drawer to get my thoughts straight and took a seat next to her, handing her a set. “I’m so used to them now. My dad is Korean and would always make me use chopsticks. It’s second nature, now. I’m grateful he did, though. I went to Korea to study for a few summers, and all his training made me a natural.”

“That sounds amazing!” She took the chopsticks gratefully, deftly digging into the plate.

“It is spicy,” I warned, but she looked up at me with a grin that lit up her face.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time!” She laughed before picking up a noodle and shoving it whole into her mouth. The happy little sound she let out was obscene, and I was suddenly grateful that the table was hiding my tightening trousers and obvious hard-on.

Does she really have no support?

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