Page 41 of Pack Baines

“Pancakes,” he answers instantly.

“Chocolate chip?” I inquire, wondering if they’re worth waking up early for. When my belly growls dangerously, I decide that I could very much be lured from this warm body that’s acting like my own personal heated mattress.

“Obviously. I don’t want to die,” he snickers, and I groan before rolling from on top of him, missing his heat and touch already. A hand whispers over my body while I stretch, Lowie’s fingertips cascading down the valley of my breasts and to my stomach, and I tense instantly.

Light pools through the room, curtains still open enough to wash the room in a pretty, yellow glow, and it does a spectacular job of highlighting the cigarette and other scars that litter my body. So, I just know that there won’t be any kind of escaping or avoiding the conversation I can feel coming, Lowie’s fingers tracing every puckered piece of skin that tell a not so pleasant story of how I lived.

“Juniper, what are these?” Lowie asks lowly not seconds later, without judgment, only a need to know. His voice is hard, unrelenting, and I know he won’t let it go until I explain.

I brace myself for any kind of reaction as I quietly tell him. “Know how I told you the father of the family that adopted me liked to use cigarettes? Well, he had no trouble making me his personal ashtray. I mentioned the mother would push me into stuff and find ways to inadvertently hurt me? That didn’t come without a few marks. I’m sure you already guessed a lot of them are from the Henley Pack.”

Silence follows my admission, and I swallow hard while I peer out the window instead of watching the emotion that no doubt flitters over Lowie’s face. I don’t want to risk seeing even a hint of disgust in those pretty, blue eyes that looked at me like I was something to be worshiped only a few short hours ago.

“You’re fucking stunning, Juno. Don’t ever doubt that,” Lowie says sternly, and my gaze snaps to his, eyebrows pinched in confusion. Lowie smiles, knowing I was expecting some kind of reaction that was the polar opposite of what he just gave me, but his eyes remain stern as he continues. “You’re the most precious thing in my world. But that’s why I mean it very fucking seriously when I say no other soul in this world is going to put another mark on your body. Your pack not included, because I’ll be damned if we don’t mark you good and proper. But outside of a bonding mark? You won’t receive another scar so long as I’m breathing. Okay?”

I’m nodding before my brain even computes that I’m moving at all, and I can only haggardly answer, my voice small and stunned as I say, “Okay.”

“Good,” he cements, leaning in to kiss me soundly before pulling back. “Now get that beautiful body of yours dressed. We have to feed you.”

My stomach chooses that moment to rumble loudly again, it’s displeasure very obvious by now, and I’m almost grateful to it for dispelling the intense atmosphere. I groan and Lowie laughs, the previous conversation swept away with the beautiful sound, and I smile at him from beneath my hands.

“Come on. Get your ass up,” he demands, climbing off the bed with only a swift smack to my thigh.

Slowly, I climb out of bed, dressing quickly in a pair of black-and-white-striped jeans, a worn-down band shirt, and a pair of heeled ankle boots that offer me an extra four inches on top of my usual five foot two inches of height.

Slinging my bag over my shoulder filled with only the essentials, my new textbooks, my portfolio, and my camera bag thatcontains only a pre-used professional camera I bought for a steal at a thrift shop a year or two ago, I pause when I find Lowie sitting on the bed, already dressed, and watching me with a soft look that damn near melts my insides. “What’s that look for?”

He shrugs. “Just like watching you. I guess I’m enjoying having these little moments with you after missing so many.”

I smile, nodding in agreement. “I like them, too.”

He flashes a grin and stands, holding his hand out for me to take. “Good. Now let’s feed you before your stomach eats itself.”

Sure enough, an hour later, I’m fed and full and desperate for another nap. Sadly, Lowie becomes a tyrant, forcing me to the front of the looming building where I’ll be getting an education most could only dream of. Nerves are rolling through me at the speed of an oncoming freight train, and I’m sure my lip is reddened from the number of times I’ve bitten it. The only reassurance I have comes from Lowie, his amusement evident, even as he tries to boost my confidence.

“You’re going to do great, Angel,” he assures, hand tucked in mine while he walks me right into the building, leading me through a large reception room where a pretty woman sits behind a large oak desk.

“Mrs. Ogmore,” Lowie greets, dragging me to the receptionist’s desk before wrapping an arm around my back.

The pretty woman, who looks to be in her early forties and is looking fabulous with her cat eyeglasses, peach lipstick, and a powder pink power suit that would put all businesswomen to shame, smiles widely and says, “Leylan, how are you?”

“Lowie,” he corrects gently, and the woman shakes her head.

“One of these days I’ll get your names right,” she mutters, before her eyes fall to me. “Oh! New student?”

I nod, words trapped in my throat, and she smiles warmly. “Welcome to North U! What’s the name, flower?”

Clearing my throat, I mutter, “Juniper Baines.”

Mrs. Ogmore nods and goes about tapping away on her keyboard, eyes focused on her computer screen. Her peach-colored nails clack against the plastic keys, echoing in the large ornate room fit better for a dining room than a reception, all the while she mutters to herself. “Baines. Baines, Baines, Bain— Oh, there you are. I have your schedule, your map, and your classrooms all here for you. Let me just print it all out and you can be on your way.”

I try to smile at the sweet woman, but I’m sure it looks more like a grimace. I’m not used to being nice to anyone but the boys of my childhood, so it’s a foreign concept, and by the way the woman’s face softens, she can tell as much. Thankfully, she doesn’t mention anything. She simply goes about gathering all of the information I need, sliding it to me in a bright-pink folder that makes me wince.

“Have a great first day, flower,” she says, patting the folder before turning her focus back to her computer.

Lowie takes hold of my hand and drags me out of the building, right before he bursts out laughing. “Still not a fan of pink?”

“It’s gross,” I whine, smacking his arm with the folder, a chuckle slipping out when the dick keeps laughing at me.

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