Page 5 of Crave

That had been the end of all our dreams, and what my Beast wanted no longer mattered.

I dragged myself back to the present to hear Merrick’s answer. “You’re both welcome here anytime.”

Forever, even.

Susannah met my gaze, and I held it. She’d known, all those years ago, how we felt about her. Hell, at sixteen, I’d all but gotten down on my knees and begged her to be part of my Pack—ourPack—but then she’d run away. Even worse than that was she’d joined Wilkie’s pack.

I needed to let that shit go. It was water under the bridge now.

Susannah took a shuddering breath in. “We should go, get back to the house.” Not home—the house. If that didn’t say everything about what it was like in Wilkie’s Packhouse, nothing did.

I could see her folding in on herself, like she was trying to be smaller. Anger flared in my chest, and I growled. Her eyes snapped back to mine, and her chin jutted out. There was that proud, stubborn woman I knew.

“Like Quinn said, thank you. If you ever turn into an Omega in a freak magical event, we’ll be happy to return the favor.” Her voice was cool, and I resisted the urge to smirk at her.

Merrick watched her closely, and she was purposefully avoiding his gaze. He was good at reading people, my mate—always had been. And Susannah knew it.

“I have one question,” Merrick said before they could step away.

Quinn barked out a laugh. “I’m surprised it’s just one.”

Merrick quirked an eyebrow. “All the other Betas who turned Omega were unmated. All except you. Why is that?”

Susannah’s eyes flashed angrily. “Lucky, I guess. Besides, it’s none of your business, August Merrick. Yours either, Owen Murphy.” With that, she gripped Quinn’s hand, towing him out of the backyard and through the gate onto the street. It was a scene that had been the same since we were kids. Susannah plowing ahead, dragging a befuddled but doting Quinn behind her.

We watched them go, then I turned to Merrick. His face was pensive, staring in the direction of Wilkie's Packhouse. “Something’s off there.”

Yeah, no shit.But Susannah was right, it was none of our business, no matter how much we wanted it to be. We’d learned that Susannah didn’t want our help early on, the first time we’d seen bruises on her arms from fingers that gripped them too hard. Bruises on her neck. We’d gotten into a brawl with the Wilkie Pack, and it had ended badly. Susannah had made it clear she was happy and that we needed to fuck right off.

So we had, for so damn long it hurt. However, Merrick was right. Something was off, and we were going to get to the bottom of it.

Standing, I moved stiffly toward the house. It would need airing if I didn’t want to be hard for another week from the residual pheromones. I tilted my head at Merrick. “We’ll watch and listen. Be there if they need us. Until then, we should get back to work.”

This brief reprieve had come to an end. Still, I couldn’t shake the idea that this was the beginning of something big for us and the Manix. I’d never been a particularly devout believer in some higher being, but it was hard to dispute it when the Betas literally transformed.

The Goddess obviously had a plan, and we were just along for the ride.

3

QUINN

My gut churned as I stepped between the Corinthian pillars of the Packhouse. It was more like standing on the steps of a prison than in the welcoming embrace of home. The mansion was ostentatious and pretentious, just like its owner. But also much like the Alpha of the Wilkie Pack, the regal facade hid the horrors of what happened inside.

I tilted my head to listen, but the house was quiet. Susannah went to push inside first, but I grabbed her elbow, pulling her back. “Let me go first, Zanny.” She looked like she wanted to argue, but I didn’t wait and flung open the door. It was still quiet as I walked in. Susannah huffed something under her breath behind me before she strode into the house.

Errol appeared from the kitchen. I liked Errol, in a completely non-romantic way. The stress of living in this Pack made him look haggard, and I still didn’t know if he was thirty-five or fifty-five. He was too nice to be saddled with this fucking Pack. But he’d been injured as a child, so he walked with a limp, and no one would take him except Wilkie. Not because our Alpha was altruistic, but because Errol was an amazing cook. Wilkie and Green treated him like a slave, but otherwise they left him well enough alone. Hard to get three-course dinners if you beat the shit out of the cook.

We only got to taste some of his food—whatever was leftover after Wilkie and the other Betas had eaten. Sometimes there wasn’t much at all. Wilkie wasn’t above punishing us for his inability to get hard and mate us into the Pack properly.

“You’re back,” Errol whispered. He never spoke above a whisper. He looked left and right, obviously waiting for Wilkie or Green to appear. The only other Beta in our pack, Joseph, was probably at work. He brought in the majority of the money for the Pack working as an accountant for the Legion. Joseph wasn’t too bad either—his meanness not quite cruelty, more just following orders and turning a blind eye—but he worked long hours. Partly because Wilkie liked to live above his means, and partly because it meant he didn’t have to be here in this house with Wilkie and Green.

Understandable.

Susannah gave Errol a tight smile. “We’re back.”

He didn’t look happy about that, though, none of us were. I reached out and gripped his bicep softly. He flinched away, and my heart hurt for him. “Thank you for what you did.”

He shrugged, his eyes flashing to Susannah and back to me. “It was nothing,” he whispered, moving back toward the kitchen.

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