Page 19 of Pack Larsen

I turn to give Aero a mocking smile, only to find him already grinning at me. My smile falls instantly, and I eye the guy carefully before I look back to the road, flicking on the indicator and turning onto my driveway.

“What? What’s that look for?” I query cautiously, parking the car before turning toward the omega, all too aware of his hand still loosely gripping my thigh.

“I have an idea, but it involves you breaking the ‘ignoring pack Larsen’ rule you’ve put in place,” he declares, answering nothing and sparking more questions.

Snorting, I raise a single unimpressed eyebrow and inform, “Bold of you to assume I was going to be able to abide by that rule. Munro pisses me off enough that my filter disappears entirely and I have to snap back. It was a failed mission from the get go, but a valiant attempt at being petty.”

“If you say so,” he placates, and I flip him my middle finger, laughing when he does.

Man, this feels nice. Really fucking nice. Just talking to, laughing with, and enjoying the company of another. Sure, Juno is a riot to hang out with and I love the bones off my spicy, little kitten, but there’s something vastly different about hanging out with a guy I’m crushing on and enjoying every second of it.

“What do you say about putting some trust in me for the next hour?” Aero quizzes, an open expression on his handsome face, like he’s hoping I’ll give my trust easily.

It might be stupid, asinine really, but I do. I can’t help it. There’s something undeniably trustworthy about Aero, something that screams at me that he’s one of the good ones. So, I nod with a loose shrug. “I guess so. Why, what’s happening?”

“All will be revealed, babe,” he quips, winking at me and sending my heart into overdrive. A wink, a term of endearment for a second time, and his thickening scent that swims around me? Hot damn, it’s a miracle I don’t just melt right into the seat. “Come on. We have a plan to enact.”

He’s out of the car before I know it, and I’m forced to scramble after him like an idiot, my car locking with a beep as I move far enough away with the key fob still in my pocket. Once I’m close enough, Aero holds his hand out for mine, and I don’t know what possesses me, but I take it easily, enjoying the way he links our fingers together.

Together, we head inside, and just as the door shuts on us, Aero wonders, “So, what is your type?”

“Huh?” I ask, confused about this line of questioning, my brain short circuiting from the warmth of his hand. “Type of what?”

“Guy, babe. What’s your type of guy,” he laughs loudly, tugging me closer to his side.

Blinking rapidly, I shake my head and narrow my eyes on the snooping, little goose. Have I not shared enough today? I’m not about to get into what guys are my type, especially because I don’t wish to be embarrassed about all five of my types living in the same house as me right now. That’s not a conversation that needs to happen today or… ever.

“That’s for me to know and you to keep your nose out of,” I answer with a smartass smile, my brain cells coming back to fully functioning slowly but surely.

“Damn, you little hardass,” the omega snickers, squeezing my hand and rubbing his thumb over the back of it. “You could have just said ‘sexy omegas named Aero’ and saved me the trouble of figuring it out.”

“Oh my god, you’re incorrigible,” I blurt, right before I start laughing at the boldness. This guy is something, alright. I thought I was extroverted and confident enough to speak my mind, but this is something new and refreshing. A vibe match I never saw coming. I like it.

Grinning widely, Aero leads us through the house, apparently already well-versed on the layout. Hand in hand, we walk toward the living room, with its massive square couch, projector for a television that is currently playing a movie I recognize, and an entertainment system Alek practically creamed his panties over when it was installed.

Sitting on the couch are the four remaining members of pack Larsen, stinking up my house with their combined scents and setting my hormones into a tizzy. I’m half wondering if I took my damned suppressants today with how my body is reacting.

Just as we step into view, we’re the center of attention, each pair of eyes landing on us with a creepy sort of synchrony that I’d mock if I wasn’t all too aware of the way their gazes are taking in mine and Aero’s entwined hands. No one mentions it, though they sure do send Aero some questioning, curious, or downright disapproving looks. Munro is a dick.

“Yo. I thought you guys said you were busy?” Aero greets, damn near dragging me into the living room. Now that I’ve seen the others, witnessed the scowl on the miserable beta’s face, I don’t really want to be in here. My nest is safer. Or my studio. Oh, yeah, maybe I can fake an assignment and scurry off to my studio.

Like he knows what I’m already thinking, Aero tightens his hold on my hand and pulls me to the couch, dropping his body into the cloud-like, cushiony goodness and pulling me down with him. I land with a breathyoomph, almost falling on top of Aero, and he snickers as he manhandles me into an arrangement where I find my side pressed snugly against his. What in the fresh hell is happening? It’s been a day. A single day, and I’m already folding enough that I’m allowing a manhandling to take place in my own damned home. What is wrong with me?

“We figured if you were taking a day off to go hang out with the rich, then we were taking the day off, too,” Haze answers none too nicely, and I feel my whole body stiffen in response.

Aero’s hand tightens in mine, and if he’s afraid I might run away. A valid concern, because his hold is the only thing that prevents me from being able to get up. I’ve tried already, and I’m stuck, the bastard.

Scowling at his packmate and alpha, Aero volleys, “Don’t have to be a dick about it.”

Rage simply shrugs, eyeing me only briefly before he looks away, peering back at the movie about a man who’s resurrected after he and his soon to be wife are brutally murdered on the night before Halloween, the day before they were due to be married.

Focusing on the painted face of Brandon Lee instead of the pack around me, I try to tug my hand free to cross my arms, only Aero won’t let me. So, I simply huff my disapproval and focus on watching the movie, tuning all of them and their mouthwatering scents and bad attitudes out. I mean, where’s the appreciation for giving them a place to stay, for fuck’s sake? What’s a girl got to do to get a ‘thank you’ around here?

I’m scowling at the wall, barely watching the movie and dutifully ignoring the rest of whatever the hell conversation the omega has with his pack, when Aero states, “Whatever. I have a proposal to make.”

“The answer is no,” Munro snarks, sending me a scathing look before turning in his seat, as if that’ll make me disappear.

Glaring at his back, wishing not for the first time that I had the super ability to set someone ablaze with a look alone, I almost miss it when Aero blurts, “Silver needs a date to this charity thing, and I figured we’d take her.”

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