Page 13 of Pack Larsen

“You write?” Aero frowns in adorable confusion. Of course, he would be confused. We covered so many likes and dislikes, all surface-level stuff, but never once did we dare broach deeper topics.

Shrugging, I answer easily, “Music. I write music.”

“Yeah? That’s cool. You any good?” he teases, genuinely sounding interested. Other than Alek and Juniper, no one really knows about my obsessiveness when it comes to music.

“I mean, Juniper once said she was glad I didn’t sound like a cat whose tail just got stepped on,” I snicker, rolling my eyes at my dramatic bestie. “Alek has always claimed I have the talent to go somewhere, but he’s family and biased, so we don’t believe him. Or his pack. They count as family, too. I once wore a neon-green sweater that I thought was the absolute shit one day, and they all agreed with me. It was atrocious. I burnt the sweater a week later. They’re loveable liars.”

Aero is grinning at me, sparkling, baby-blue eyes watching me with interest. “You sing?”

“Sure,” I answer, fighting the urge to be embarrassed about it. I don’t know why, maybe it’s the way my parents always put me down for my chosen path and career aspects, but there’s always a strange self-consciousness and sprinkling of shame that comes with confessing that I sing. Probably why I’ve never told anyone but Alek and Juno.

“I want to hear,” he claims earnestly, and I know my face morphs into a funny expression mixed with amusement, approval, and surprise.

“I’m not singing for you right here and now, but if you want to come up to the studio at some point, I’ll show you what I’m working on at the moment. It’s a project for class,” I offer, unsure why I do, but finding myself a little giddy and a lot nervous to bring another person into my little bubble.

“You’re on. Maybe after we go to your cousin’s?” he pushes, and I pause.

“‘We?’” I snicker. “You’re coming with me? Since when did I offerthatinvite? Was I asleep when that happened, because that doesn’t count.”

Aero laughs again, and I’m pretty sure my pussy cries with the angels that time, the sound so butterfly inducing and heart-trippingly good that I have to cross my legs to try and keep the scent dimmed.

I can’t even tell if it works, because the thickness of Aero’s scent is so strong that it’s all I can smell every time I inhale. I’m convinced it’s only getting stronger, too.

“I made the executive decision to go with you, on the basis that we’re getting to know each other, and I want to spend time with my new friend,” he quips, and I’m so distracted by his delicious scent that all I do is nod. His grin is instant, and I’m almost rendered brainless by the sight as he says, “Cool. I’ll go shower and dress. Meet you in the kitchen when you’re ready?”

Nodding again, slightly dazed, I watch as he flashes a sunny grin before scrambling out of the nest and disappearing from sight. It takes longer than I would care to admit to get my shit together, getting ready and dressed as though I’ve been drugged and am slowly coming down from a high. Because that’s what a smile from Aero feels like. Taking a hit from the strong stuff. Not that I’d know what that felt like, but Aero’s smiles are the closest to drugs I’ve ever been close to taking.

By the time I’m dressed in pastel-pink sweatpants, a cropped white shirt, and a pair of white sneakers, I feel like I’ve come back to my senses. Slinging my small bag over my back, I leave my nest, tugging my hair up into a messy ponytail. I’m just tying the hair tie when I step into the full kitchen, three alphas and an omega all seated in the breakfast nook I tend to favor. The room is filled with scents I’m still getting used to but strangely already addicted to, only citrus and pine missing from the mix, Munro nowhere to be found. Good. Seeing his handsome, perfect face will only put me in a bad mood.

“Morning, Silver,” Pace offers, and I jerk my head in a half-assed nod, still salty about last night.

His eyebrows pinch in a frown that looks comically confused, but I don’t bother offering him an explanation. Why should I? They were more than content to ignore me last night when I tried to make an effort. I’m ignoring them today to return the favor.

“You ready?” I ask Aero instead, finding him stuffing a piece of toast slathered in jelly in his mouth, nodding readily.

The twins are sending him a funny look, one he thoroughly ignores as he says, “Are you eating anything? You haven’t had anything since this morning when I brought you bagels. That was two hours ago.”

Lips twitching, I inform, “I’m sure I’ll survive. Anyway, one of Alek’s pack loves to cook. It’s a weekly thing where he’ll make something for me to try and I give him my honest opinion in return.”

“Oh, yeah? What was last week?” Aero wonders, standing from the breakfast nook and cleaning up after himself quickly.

Leaning on the island counter in the fancy kitchen that was pulled out of a beachside mansion home decor magazine, with its lightwood countertops and off-white cupboards, I answer, “French toast with homemade caramel and whipped cream.”

Aero groans. “That actually sounds like heaven.”

“It came close,” I agree, watching as he carries his plate to the sink and washes it thoroughly. “You don’t have to do that. There’s a dishwasher right here.”

I open a cupboard door, revealing the machine I’m convinced the gods built themselves, the blessed dishwasher hidden to match the aesthetic of the kitchen. Aero’s eyebrows shoot upward, and he whistles like he’s impressed. “That’s neat. What else are you hiding in here?”

Snorting, I stuff my hands in my pockets and offer, “How about I give you a tour when we’re home? We really need to go. Alek will be up my ass with phone calls and texts if we don’t—”

Sure enough, before I even finish my sentence, my cell pings with a text. Slipping my phone free, I read the text and roll my eyes.

ALEX:I’m going to assume you’re dead since you’re not here, saving me from strangling Barnes. Apparently, we’re not allowed to eat until you get here. Do you want me to starve?

Rolling my eyes, I mutter to Aero while typing out a response. “My cousin is on the brink of death. Let’s go before he gets hangry.”

“I have no idea what that means, but let me just grab my shoes and we’ll go,” the chipper omega responds before dashing out of the kitchen. I’m too busy typing a reply to Alek to pay attention to the remaining alphas in the room.

---