Page 42 of The Pack

“What’s this?” I asked, surprised.

“For your hair,” he said simply, his tone softer now.

My cheeks flushed as he tucked the flower gently behind my ear. His fingers brushed against my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine and a spike of arousal straight down to my clit.

“There,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Perfect.”

I blushed and gently touched the flower, finding the gesture sweet. Unexpectedly so.

The rest of the pack had busied themselves with the final preparations, but Callum caught the moment. His gray eyes sparkled with mischief as he sidled over, his smile easy and warm.

“Here,” he said, pulling a small leather pouch from his pack. “For the road.”

He handed it to me, and when I opened it, the faint, familiar aroma of dried herbs and spices wafted up. Nestled inside were strips of venison jerky, but these weren’t plain. They were coated in something—pepper and honey, maybe? My stomach growled at the sight.

“I thought you’d like something better than Tobias’s usual flavorless ration cuts,” he said, grinning.

I laughed softly, the tension in my chest loosening for the first time all morning. “Thank you. I didn’t know you were a chef.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Tobias cut in from a few paces away, his arms crossed over his broad chest. His dark eyes were cold as ever, but there was a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Callum thinks he’s the heart of the group. Always trying to butter people up.”

Callum shrugged, completely unbothered. “And you like to think you’re the brain. Let’s not question what works.”

Before I could reply, Tobias stepped closer, holding out a well-worn cloak. It was thick, made from sturdy wool, and had clearly seen its fair share of harsh weather.

“You’ll need this,” Tobias said gruffly. “The weather’s unpredictable, and you’ll freeze without it.”

I hesitated before taking it, the weight of it surprising. “Thank you.”

He didn’t respond immediately, just gave a curt nod, but his knowing stare lingered on me for a moment longer than necessary.

“We leave nothing to chance,” he said, almost to himself, before turning away. Mysterious…

A short while later, we set off.

Killian fell into step beside me, his ever-present grin making me suspicious of whatever was about to come out of his mouth.

“You know,” he began, his Irish lilt carrying easily through the quiet, “this whole ‘pack princess’ thing you’ve got going is working out for you.”

I blinked, startled. “Pack princess?”

“Aye,” he said, his grin widening. “Magnus picking flowers for you, Callum feeding you gourmet jerky, Tobias handing over his favorite cloak. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re already the queen of this lot.”

I snorted, shaking my head. “And you? What’s your role in this pack dynamic, Killian? The jester?”

He clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch, lass. You wound me.”

“Good,” I replied, but I couldn’t help but grin in return.

Killian laughed, the sound warm and unrestrained. “Stick with me, Zara. You’ll need someone to keep you grounded when these other lot get too serious.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I quipped, glancing behind me.

Thorne brought up the rear, his pale blue eyes scanning the path and the woods beyond. He hadn’t said much since we left, but I noticed how his focus seemed to shift back to me at regular intervals.

When the trail narrowed and the footing became treacherous, he moved closer, his hand clasping my arm to steady me when I stumbled.

“Careful,” he said, his voice low and even.

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