Page 7 of This Pack of Ours

He gave a little chuckle.

“Best friends and bite marks,” he said. “That’s good, right, Juni?” He patted me on the head and yawned.

A bubble of happiness swelled up as I heard the new nickname, reminding me of the name my dad used to call me.

“Good,” I said, and looked up to see his eyes had dropped shut, his head drifting to the side.

I closed my eyes and rested my head on his chest.

Mine.

ONE

5 YEARS LATER

JUNIPER

I scowled at my face in the bathroom mirror.

Kit was sick.

For the first time ever, I was going to my heat alone.

Andsomethingwas going round, because the pack we’d scheduled to meet me at the Safe House had called in sick as well.

I wiped my hands on my dress again, forcing myself to take another deep breath. It didn’t do much to calm the jittering nerves in my stomach. It was going to be alright, even with Kit absent, because I was having my heat at the Safe House.

I’d started the Safe House with Kit and Daisy, another gold pack omega we’d befriended out here. It was a heat house; a safe place for omegas to ride out their heat, however they wanted to do it.

I preferred not to do any of the organizing for my own heat, but this was an emergency. When you’re poor, heats don’t take rain checks. I’d had to grit my teeth and send out a slew of requests for a backup pack, and I’d only gotten one response.

This pack had passed our background check, at least. I did extensive research on anything that could put us in danger before adding any pack to the Safe House list. You didn’t fuck around with alphas when you had gold eyes, even if that gold was hidden by contacts.

Once a pack was screened and approved, we scheduled a meeting with Kit and me.

Kit’s job with the alphas was to win them over. His scent was like magic; it just tangled with everyone he met and drew them to him. He paired perfectly with it; his soft smiles, his gentle touches, his eyes that practically begged someone to take care of him. The way he walked with his hands in his sleeves, or sat hunched while hugging his knees. Within the first five minutes, he had every pack we met wrapped around his little finger.

My job was to assess them in person and keep an eye out for any red flags. All I had to do was to keep my mouth shut. I just blinked stupidly at any questions, Kit would jump in, and bam, I’d be labelled a bimbo and they’d move on. It was kind of insulting how often it worked. This pack would be the first one Kit hadn’t met.

The Safe House was currently in an ancient, sprawling bungalow; we moved every month for safety. There was an armed host omega on duty at all times, and Daisy’s pack dads were on call if things got rough.

Daisy—or Lila, as she went by in the Safe House—was on host duty, sitting in the living room and watching a romcom on the TV.

I paced back to the room I’d chosen for tonight, picked up my phone, and then put it down again.

Don’t look.

I went to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of whiskey, pouring myself a shot. I couldn’t settle. Couldn’t nest. Kit wasn’t here. We’d always been at each other’s heats.

This was going to be a long few days without him.

He promised he’d come as soon as he felt better, but he followed that up by puking into the toilet, so my hopes weren’t high.

I couldn’t resist the urge this time, and opened my phone. I re-scanned the details of the pack coming tonight, downing the shot to soothe my nerves.

The Argo pack. Ez, Adrian, Vander and Jhin.

Like a lot of the omegas here, I gave a fake name and preferred not to know who my heat helpers were, but as I’d had to reschedule myself, I had no choice but to look at their profiles.

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