Page 59 of Pack Baines

The silence around our table suddenly seems too loud, and I risk a glance at the others. Sure enough, Haze and Rage are looking down at their plates like they’re the most interesting things at the table, and that raises my hackles. But it’s Aero that snorts and answers, “Well, hell, I could answer that, you dumbass. You’ve spent enough time around me to know when I’m cranky and why.”

Munro frowns, and I look over at Aero. “What does that mean?”

Aero smiles, clocking my chin gently before he asks, “You been getting frisky lately?”

“Oh my god,” I choke on my bite of mac and cheese, coughing roughly while I stare wide-eyed at the intrusive omega beside me. As soon as I’m no longer on the brink of dying via cheese inhalation, I blurt, “I have no idea why that’s a question that just came out of your mouth, nor do I know why it’s relevant, but I’m not answering that.”

“You don’t need to. Based on the way your cheeks just flamed red and how your eyes almost bugged right out of your head, I’ll bet my life on it the answer is no, you haven’t. You’ve been a grouchy, but cuddly, little omega without wanting intimacy, am I right?” Aero chimes, taking a bite of my food while I stare at him with my mouth agape and my mind stalling harshly.

Because, despite my reluctance to answer, he’s right. I haven’t been intimate at all with the guys, nor have I had any heat spikes since the incident that has me stressed out of my skull. I’ve been lapping up cuddles and snuggles like a kitten weaning off of milk, been kind of needy in the way of wanting attention from the guys, and sort of clingy. But they haven’t seemed to mind. In fact, it’s almost like they’ve encouraged it, their possessive holds and greedy clutches wanting the closeness as I have been, so I haven’t really paid it muchattention.

As for grouchy? Hell, that’s my default mode, though it doesn’t normally happen with the guys. So, I guess that is weird? Maybe?

“What the hell are you talking about?” I accidentally snap, wincing the moment I do.

Aero’s smile only grows until he’s flashing perfectly white teeth at me, a knowing gleam in his eyes. I grow agitated the longer that look remains in his eyes, watching me for a reaction, so I simply raise an eyebrow that makes him laugh.

Thankfully, he takes that as his cue to finally clue me in. “You're due for a heat, little prickly omega. My guess is that whatever stress you’re suffering is preventing the heat spikes that lead to your heat, meaning your hormones are all out of whack and it’s making you crabby and cuddly all at once. Kind of like a porcupine. Cute but prickly.”

I slump back in my seat and cringe, because that actually makes sense, though I wish I’d have realized it sooner. As much as I want my guys, and by Gods do I want them, I haven’t been in any kind of mood for what I love to chase after. I’ve had zero heat spikes, and it’s obvious to us all that my moods are only worsening as the days pass.

“Well, shit,” I grumble, slouching deeper into my chair while I snatch a piece of garlic bread from the plate and chomp into half of it with loud crunches.

Munro looks as bothered as me, because if I’m a dumbass who didn’t notice my issues sooner, then so is he, too, for not putting two and two together. I mean, he lives with an omega. Sure, Aero is a guy, but apparently, it sounds like we both are very similar in genetics if we’re cranky before a heat.

Swallowing the last bite of garlic bread, I mutter to my grumpy best friend, “Looks like we’re both stupid.”

His lips twitch, mine twitch, and suddenly the tense atmosphere is broken and the twins laugh as they glance in our direction.

“Easy to miss, really, when you don’t have regular heats,” Aero shrugs, like it’s no big deal that he knows this isn’t a common thing for me. He catches my horrified curiosity, and snickers before explaining, “I can smell you just as well as you can smell me, hon. That’s all it is. It’s an omega thing, I guess. When you learn a little more about yourself, I’m sure you’ll pick up on things like that, too.”

“Omegas are weird,” Munro mutters under his breath, tone teasing.

“You’re weird,” Aero and I volley, in sync with matching degrees of offence, which isn’t much at all. It does make Munro grin and the twins roll their eyes, so there’s that, at least.

“So, what has you stressed, Juno?” Haze wonders, eyeing my garlic bread, though he makes no effort to steal it like Aero keeps trying.

Swatting the omega’s hand away and lifting the plate off the tray, I slide it over to the twins and delve into what has me all out of sorts. It isn’t a long story, so my words come out in a rush to explain it all relatively quickly, so by the time I’m done, Haze and Rage are only two slices each into my sacrificed bread of the gods.

“They don’t have any updates?” Rage questions intensely, scowling over at me though I’m fully aware I’m not the reason behind it.

Shaking my head, I take another bite of my mac and cheese before Aero steals the rest like a dirty little thief, chewing and swallowing like a lady before I say, “Nothing. Creek has been checking almost daily, but there’s just nothing that can be done.”

“And you didn’t know who it was?” Munro wonders, offering me some of his garlic bread.

I take a slice. “I didn’t even recognize him, man. But he knew my name. Clearly knew where I’d be in order to fabricate a chance encounter. And, on top of that, he gave me some serious heebie-jeebies. My instincts have never led me wrong with people, and that guy gave me the creeps long before I even bumped into him.”

“What did he look like?” Haze questions. “If you give us a description, we’ll keep a look out. We’ll show Pace, too.”

So I do, offering every inch of detail I can summon from my less than stellar memory. Munro even whips out a pencil and sketch pad I know he uses for his architecture classes, drawing the face of the man that is still haunting me despite hearing or seeing nothing of him since that one encounter.

By the time I’m done and Munro and his pack are all up to date on the ins and outs of my life, lunch is over and I’m forced to push on through with the rest of my day. I try not to let my stress get the better of me, but I clearly fail, because Munro has my arm linked with his as he walks me directly to my car without uttering a word.

“Sorry,” I grumble, feeling irritated with myself.

“Don’t be. I get it now. We’ve got your back, okay?” he assures, not an ounce of anger coming from him.

Offering me a side hug that I return, Munro waits for me to climb into the truck and taps on the window. I roll it down a fraction, and he says, “I want a text when you get home so I know you’re safe. God knows I’ll have Silver bitching in my ear otherwise.”

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