Page 17 of Pack Larsen

“So, we’re both fucked then?” I snicker, keeping Alek’s hair tight in my grip and ensuring the braids are snug enough that they won’t get loose.

I feel him begin to shake his head and lift my hand at the ready, only for my cousin to stop immediately and use his words to answer me. “Not as fucked as you, kid. You know as well as I do that your parents will be trapezing several packs in your face all night, trying to force you to consider courting a pack they approve of.”

Offering him a bland look, I grumble, “It’ll be an ice-cold day in hell when that happens. You and I both know I’m not interested in that circus.”

“So, take a date,” Lazarus quips from the top of the stairs, descending like a fancy English Duke wearing modern-day clothing. His shirt is plain, gray with a little tick logo on the chest, while his jeans fit him snugly. His caramel-brown hair is impeccably styled, coiffed out of his face, and it tests my urge to run over and mess it up just for shits and giggles.

“A date?” I ask, moving on to the next braid in Alek’s hair.

“Sure, a date. If your mother insists on parading potential packs under your nose like a steak to a lion, then why not beat her at her own game by taking one of your choosing? That way she will leave you alone for the night, and you put her in an awkward situation at the same time. She’ll have invited those packs with a promise of an introduction with the heir of the Gage fortune, only for you to show up with a pack she hasn’t vetted, handpicked, and ensured would produce perfect little Silvers. Play chess, not checkers, darling.”

I pause, mulling over his words, finding them a lot more appealing than they rightfully should be. It would get her and the dads off my back for the evening, I’m sure Meemaw and Paws would get a kick out of it, and it means I can actually relax for the evening instead of creating crafty ways to escape the pushy and demanding attention of the packs my mother keeps trying to set me up with. Wealth-born, blue collar, fancy-pants packs I have literally zero interest in. The only problem? Who the hell would I ask?

“I don’t know a pack that I could take with me. I’m not asking Juno to let me borrow her bonded, that’s for sure,” I point out, glancing at Lazarus as he takes a seat in the cozy armchair near the unlit fireplace.

I catch the moment his mossy-green eyes glance at Aero, and I’m suddenly all too aware of the omega who’s been as quiet as a church mouse all this time and is still seated right beside me. I can still feel his warmth, hear his steady breaths as he continues to watch me braid Alek’s hair in concentrated silence, and smell his mouthwatering scent that I want to bottle and bathe in.

Subtly, I shake my head at Lazarus, warning him with my eyes not to go in the direction I’m now all too aware he’s racing toward. In my alarm, I accidentally tug a little too hard on Alek’s hair, and the big baby yelps, drawing everyone’s attention.

“I didn’t pull that hard, you drama queen,” I tease, gentling my hold and rolling my eyes.

“Damn near tore my hair out from the roots, you monster. Be careful. I’m precious goods,” he volleys, breaking the tension that started filling my body. “Meemaw said so herself.”

“Meemaw is a filthy liar. The only thing precious about you is your cuddly toy collection,” I mock, falling back into the usual banter between my cousin and me.

“You have to stop bringing that up. I was eight,” he reminds me for the billionth time, and I relax into the playful bickering, all too aware of Lazarus’s knowing smile and Aero’s body beside mine.

Even as I try to ignore the obvious insinuation from Laz, immersing myself into playing hairdresser for my cousin and enjoying the remainder of my visit with him and his pack that I consider just as much as family as I do Alek, I can’t help but wonder if Laz might have been onto something.

That thought carries me all the way through the visit, my mind still running with it by the time Aero and I find ourselves back in the car and driving back to the house I now share with them.

Lost in thought, it takes me a moment to realize Aero is trying to get my attention. “Earth to Silverrrr. Anyone home?”

Blinking rapidly and momentarily concerned that I wasn’t paying enough attention to the road, I clear my throat and blurt, “Sorry, I was miles away. What did you say?”

Aero softly chuckles before he repeats himself, “I asked if everything was okay, because you’ve been a little spacey since Alek mentioned some ball your parents are hosting. Are you good?”

Sighing, I nod, and then quickly change it to a head shake. “I’m dreading the whole thing, if you want an honest answer. It’s going to be a shit-show, and the only reason I said I’d show my face was because Meemaw guilt-tripped me like the little player she is.”

Aero snorts, but he turns in his seat to face me. “Okay, so what’s it about this thing that has you on pins? Is it the fact that your mother is going to flaunt packs in your face? Or that you don’t have a date?”

“All of the above and then some,” I answer with a drawn-out sigh, rubbing my temple where a headache has bloomed.

Aero nods slowly. “So, talk to me about it. Tell me everything.”

I glance over at him quickly, finding his expression open and lacking judgement. Not sure how long that will last, but since he’s offering, I decide to divulge a little more of my life to him. That’s whatfriendsdo, after all, right?

“Alright, fine,” I agree, trying to think of where to start before blurting out my silly life story to him. “So, you’ve already deduced that I have money.”

Aero snorts, but doesn’t interrupt more than that, lips sealed patiently.

“Right. But I bet you’ve assumed that it came from my parents,” I guess, and based on the small frown on his beautiful face, I’ve guessed correctly. Chuckling humorlessly, I shake my head and stare out of the window as I drive, digging my fingers into my hair as I try to rub a tension headache free of my skull. “Yeah, I thought so. I haven’t had a single cent off my parents since I turned sixteen, and before then, what I received was only approved by my mother and her three husbands. Everything I wore was picked out by them. Any hobby I had was selected specially by each of them, each one ensuring that I had a classical background or whatever. My friends were vetted and approved based on their packs and backgrounds, my studies were all things my parents wanted me to study, and everything I did or wanted to do was always decided by them, from food to how long I slept. I didn’t have an allowance, didn’t get to buy myself things, wasn’t allowed to eat what I wanted when I wanted. They even paid off the boyfriend I had when I was fourteen, ensuring I’d remain a virgin for whatever pack they chose. Twenty thousand dollars to walk out of my life without so much as an explanation. One day he was there, and the next he was gone. My life was ruled and run by my mother and fathers.”

Silence greets me for a long moment after that, and I can almost hear the gears turning in Aero’s head while he mulls over that particular trauma dump. It doesn’t stop there, though. As if my childhood wasn’t a colossal shit show wrangled by invisible chains, then I don’t know what to describe my teen years as.

“At sixteen it all stopped, and that’s only because I finally confided in Meemaw what was happening. Apparently, everyone was under the impression that my mother’s pack was the perfect pack and parents. They doted on me, spoilt me rotten, made sure I had everything I could ever need and want. They painted a beautiful, little picture that I was the loved and cared for omega daughter they always wanted, when in reality, I was a pawn in a game they were playing with my life, because they had a reputation to uphold. And when my sixteenth birthday came around I was told I’d be celebrating by fasting all day before meeting three different packs of teen boys only a year or two older than me, I snuck out of the house and walked two hours to my Meemaw’s house,” I explain, shaking my head while I wondered how the hell I survived that long under the money-and-power-hungry thumbs of pack Gage.

“Everything changed from there, because the moment that woman saw me, she knew something was wrong. I cracked like an egg, told her what was happening, and she threatened my mom into allowing her to take care of me instead. Since Meemaw and my Paws had more money than my mom and her pack, they agreed, and I never went back home, not for any of my belongings that were never really mine, not any keepsakes, and certainly not for my parents,” I divulge, hands gripping the steering wheel while my mind recounts all I had to deal with growing up.

---