Page 28 of Pack Down Bad

She’s sitting so still that I’m not sure if my words register.

I continue anyway, “That connection is not the kind that matters. Not the kind that seeps into your limbs from the ground up, zipping up your spine, and wrapping around your heart with the kind of knot that can’t be undone.”

Her cheeks flush slightly over the wordknot.

My dirty girl.

“Have you felt that way?” she asks in a whisper.

“I feel that way right now.” I take her hands into mine. “You walked in here, stole my favorite chair, and have made me feel like you always belonged right here. You make the air easier to breathe. Life was good before you stumbled into our lives, but this? This isbetter.”

Belle’s breath catches.

“I like having you here, Belle,” I tell her. “Not just in my office, but in the house. In our lives. You’re the only omega I want taking up space in my chest.”

A beat passes.

“I like being here.” Her fingers curl around mine, holding me tightly, and I feel like I can breathe again.

Holding her hand isn’t enough. I release her long enough to stand up and pluck her out of the chair. She gasps as the book falls from her lap and hits the floor with a soft thunk. I lift her easily, turning my body so that I can plop down into my favorite chair with her perched on my lap. I wrap one arm behind her back and one around her legs, and still don’t feel like we’re making enough contact. I wish I could carry her to bed and press my entire body against hers, but I think that might be a little too much, a little too soon.

I breathe her in and take a moment to relax. For a second there, I felt true fear. The idea of losing her is just...

It’s not going to happen.

“You know,” I keep my tone light, “Knox and Rhys don’t even know I edit romance novels.”

“They don’t?” She looks at me with wide eyes.

I shrug sheepishly. “They know about the fantasy and science fiction that I edit. Dragons, sword fights, and medieval-inspired political systems. Themanlystuff. I never mentioned to them when a romance author asked me to take a chance on something different. I was intrigued, but I know it’s not the kind of thing I seem like I’d read.”

“Hm.” Belle frowns. “People should be able to read whatever they like. A guy can live in the woodsandlike romance novels. Anyone who doesn’t like that? I think I could fight them for you.”

She sounds so serious that I fight back my urge to smile. The idea of this sweet omega fighting anyone is absurd, but I have a feeling this is an argument she feels passionately about... even in her normal, everyday life.

My omega is passionate about books. Could I get any luckier?

“You’re right, people should be able to read whatever they like. Sometimes the best books are unexpected reads. Still, it’s easier to let everyone think my focus is only on broadswords and cleaning up an epic hero’s journey. Less complicated.”

“You think liking both is complicated?” She tilts her head, trying to get a read on me.

“A lot of people have very specific ideas about who an alpha should be. We have a box we’re supposed to fit in. Breaking out of that box can certainly feel complicated,” I admit, my throat turning a little raw with emotion.

“They wouldn’t judge you,” Belle says with confidence. “Not Rhys. Not even Knox.”

I’m sure she’s right. The truth is, I think my hang-up has more to do with my past than my present circumstances. I take a deep breath and decide to let Belle in a little more.

“The truth is, I guess not telling them is more about me than about them.” My chest tightens. “My family was great in a lot of ways. Smart and tight-knit. We never fought or avoided each other, we even did book club nights growing up.”

Belle’s eyes light up. “That sounds adorable.”

I huff out a dry laugh. “Yeah, well, everyone in my family loves non-fictionexclusively. Book club nights inevitably turned into serious debates about how the writers chose to handle their topics and context. Not exactly the kind of discussions that make you think fiction book choices would be welcome.”

Talking about this is harder than I expected, but there’s something cathartic about finally admitting how book club nights made me feel.

“My family was supportive when I went into book editing,” I clarify. “But I guess I never got past the message I got as a kid that not all books were created equally. Maybe that’s why I agreed to edit the romance books in the first place, so that I could prove I wasn’t like that. That there can be a place for all kinds of stories, no matter the topic.”

“Oh, Percy.”

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