Page 29 of Zoinks! Nice Pack, Bro

Growing up I saw the way my alpha fathers didn’t care about the nest my mother had. They took what they wanted from her and it wasn’t something that kept her safe. She found no comfort in the space. I grew up looking at it like a bullseye. A place where they could easily find her.

I just wanted to be safe.

But I wasn’t convinced soft blankets and pillows were going to do anything about the sadness that I was drowning in. It wasn’t going to fix me.

Books might be the closest that I got to nesting. They were my comfort object. Sacrifices are made in the name of reading a good book and mine just happens to be no food in my house.

“Sadie, I’m talking to you, brat.” There was a little bit of a bark in his words making my body tense for a second. There is an alpha in my apartment.

Cameron wasn’t being aggressive though. Even calling me brat was said soft, gently like he knew how close I was to falling off whatever edge I was currently balancing on.

My fridge shuts with a soft thud and I pull the arms of my sweatshirt over my hands as I finally look up at his dark eyes.

Cameron is probably 6’4. Tall enough to reach all the things I can’t but shorter than some of his friends who are giant alphas on steroids. What did their parents feed them to make them so large?

I wonder if he makes up for that inch somewhere else.

Why do I have to be constantly horny around these guys? It’s like my brain overrides and gets slick brain.

Right now he looks eight feet tall and my five two frame shrinks down as I come in and out of daydreams. All my size kinks playing in my head like a porn.

Don’t like that for me at all.

“You should go.” He pushes off the counter, in my personal space without a second thought. Such a typical alpha move. My eyes snap closed, body rigid as he comes closer to me, “Please don’t-”

Hurt me. Touch me. Break me.

Because I am so tired of putting myself together over and over again. I can only build myself up so many times after being hurt.

How many storms do I need to weather before I can finally breathe in on a sunny day?

“You’re crying.” His words are low, soft, confused.

Frick.

“Get. Out.”

“No.” His fingers reach for my sleeve, bringing my hand into his. Cameron hesitates for a second before his fingers brush over my knuckles. It’s so gentle, not forcefulor pressured. My stomach doesn’t drop with theickfeeling of someone in my personal space.

His other hand wipes at my cheeks, softly like he’s afraid of hurting me. The rough pad of his thumb over my cheeks, wet strokes of tears being pushed away as they fall

“Go away, please, Cameron.”

“No. I don’t think you should be alone.” He shifts as my eyes open up and his head tilted like he wasn’t sure about what he was about to do. “I’m going to hug you now.”

“Do. Not. Hug-oof.” His super human arms came down around me, squeezing me to his chest as he practically suffocates me in his squat hug that he is doing. “You mother-”

“Shhh, brat.” his fingers tugged at the elastic letting my messy bun out and burying his fingers in my hair as he rubs circles on my scalp as he holds me against him making soothing baby sounds at me.

I’m not a baby and about to remind him of that but his sounds switch to a purr that moves through me, enticing a shiver out. I whimper at the way that it feels.

So comforting and nice, like I can crawl up against his chest and all my worries will be chased away with the sweet purrs of my alpha.

Not my alpha.

Oh Gosh.

And me and my traitorous emotions, frazzled from someone inviting me out, and from that someone showing up at my house. I start sobbing. Not small little sobs but the wails of a thousand widows come out of me.

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