Page 26 of Pack Down Bad

If nothing else convinces him, the happiness she feels herehasto be enough to prove my plan isn’t all bad.

Sure, I know that lying isn’t the best way to start a relationship with someone. Our pack has always been honest with one another.

But I tell myself that we’ll be honest with her soon enough…

After she’s fallen completely in love with us and has no desire to be anywhere but in our beds for the rest of eternity. I’m talking matching robes, swimsuits with our faces on them, and a hot tub with built-in lights and speakers for a nightly rave. The dream.

I wonder if she wants babies? I’ll add that to the discussion list, you know, after she remembers her life and we tell her that we’re basically keeping her hostage. Is light hostaging a thing? Because this doesn’t feel like a full hostage situation.

Our omega releases a small squeak, pulling me from my internal debate. I watch her do a small happy dance in front of the bookshelves, oblivious to the attention on her.

Knox watches for a few more seconds before turning around and elbowing his way past me. “I’ll think about it,” he mutters as he goes.

That’s confirmation enough for me that I’ve bought myself more time to work on winning Belle over permanently. Based on her dreamy sigh as she runs her fingers along the spines of a row of books, she’s already practically ours. All she needs is our mark to make things official.

I agree with Knox about letting her choose us on her own. I just need a little more time to hedge our bets and show her all the reasons sheshouldchoose us.

Because if there’s one thing I’m most sure of, it’s that our pack is worth choosing.

ChapterFourteen

Belle

There’s nothing sweeter than the smell of leather-bound books and aging paper. This is the kind of room I could disappear into forever, even if I had to sacrifice daylight to live among the horde of books. A queen among her people, er... pages.

Percy works diligently on his laptop. A little weird that he works from home as a book editor without needing internet, but he seems to take the job very seriously.

I wish I could remember what kind of work I do. Something I could do from the cabin? Curled up in a leather chair beside the window, looking out over the melting snow in the side yard, I feel right at home.

There’s a worn fantasy novel in my lap, one whose well-loved pages are crinkled at the edges. Percy suggested the book to me, something lighthearted that he said shouldn’t mess with my head while I’m waiting for my memory to return. I haven’t opened the book yet, too busy taking in every detail of the room and the fascinating man at the desk.

As I watch Percy, his eyebrows furrow. I watch curiously until his scent starts to turn, causing my nose to crinkle unhappily.

“What’s wrong?”

Percy glances up at me, his mouth opening and closing twice before he clears his throat. “I was just... remembering that Rhys checked my email for me while he was in town. One of the authors I work with was supposed to send me her new manuscript today.” He quickly corrects himself, “Yesterday, I mean.”

“And she didn’t send it?” I’m not surprised he’s just now remembering, considering the whirlwind we’ve had since Rhys brought me home.

Percy shakes his head.

“Maybe she’s still working on the book. Aren’t writers notoriously procrastinators?” Haven’t I heard that somewhere before?

“Notallof them.” Percy sheepishly admits, “She cuts the deadlines close sometimes, but she’sneverbeen late for a final deadline. She already had the book done weeks ago, she was just doing final revisions before having me edit.”

“Oh. Can you email her? Well, I guess you’d have Rhys email her, maybe when he drives me back to the city?” I feel a pang in the center of my chest thinking about that moment. I kind of never want it to come.

Percy’s mouth twists into a deep frown.

“He could call her for you,” I suggest, continuing despite how little enthusiasm he seems to have for the topic now.

“Can’t call her,” Percy shrugs, “I don’t have any contact information for her besides the email she uses for her pen name. I don’t even know her real name to look her up.”

“Is that normal?”

He leans back in his chair with a weary sigh. “A lot of the authors I work with use a pen name, just like I work under a business alias. This particular author takes her complete anonymity very seriously, and I respect that. We’ve worked together for five years. She’s brilliant.”

I curl my fingers around the book in my lap for something to hold on to. I’m not sure I like the way his eyes get a faraway look while he talks about this mystery woman.

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