Page 79 of Harley & Her Ferals

He melts, slowly kissing me with a tenderness that I’m not expecting.

Finally, he draws back.

His gaze is dazed. He’s breathing hard.

“We truly are soulmates, aren’t we?” Laurent says like he needed the kiss to accept it. “But I’ve never believed in them or pack bonds. My brother claims that he’s found his in the Romeo pack. But he’s a romantic. After everything that I’ve seen and been through…the Alphas who have touched me without my permission and only wanted to bond with me because of how they can use me…I never thought that I’d want this. But you’re really my soulmate. And Feral is my scent match. My Alpha.”

Feral leans as close as he can against the bars that separate the cages.

“Both mine.” Feral’s eyes flash, possessively.

“I want you both too,” Laurent replies, equally possessively. “Deal.”

My heart soars, but I laugh. “Is everything a deal to you?”

“If it is,” River shoves himself to his feet, awkwardly pushing his hands into his pockets, “is this Beta thrown in for free?”

Laurent raises his eyebrow. “Certainly not. Betas are priceless. Some of my best friends are Betas like Swan, the best male ballet dancer in our academy. They’re definitely the bravest. If you’re this pack’s Beta, then I’d be honored if you’d considermeyour prize.”

This pack.

A thrill rushes through me.

“River is our pack’s Beta,” I reply firmly to make certain that there’s no doubt in either men’s mind about this. This is equally important for River to hear. “If this is a deal, then it’s non-negotiable.”

“He’s our s-s-soulmate,” Feral adds, puffing out his powerful chest with pride.

“Wait, Beta soulmates exist…?” Laurent asks.

I flinch.

Please don’t hurt River.

“In Italy.” River tilts up his chin, defiantly.

Actually, I hopeLaurentisn’t hurt, if he dares to insult Italy.

Never insult Italy to a mafioso’s face.

“Well, that explains everything.” Laurent glances between us. “I’ve spent my life thinking that there wasn’t a packuniqueenough to bond with a misfit Omega like me, when I dropped my mask and revealed my true self. It seems that it takes being kidnapped for me to find one. All I need to do is work out a way to free us, destroy this criminal underworld, and save everyone who is trapped here. We’ll call it our mission.”

All he needs to do…?

I clench my hands.

I already know that bonds don’t mean safety.

I watched Dad break his bond with Mom over breakfast, then her agony as she suffered Broken Bond Syndrome.

I wept at Mom’s bedside, too young to know how to care for her, as she slowly caught a fever and slipped into a coma.

No doctor was called, even though I begged Dad until I lost my voice.

When Mom died, I knew that it was from her broken bond.

I’m terrified of being bonded. I’m equally terrified of missing the chance to match with these men who I know in my soul are mine.

That conflict is tearing me in two.

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