Page 52 of Puck Your Friend

I lie still, angled just enough to face her without staring, needing to confirm it’s real. One more deep breath and there’s no mistaking it. I want to say something, but stay silent. Her resting is more important than my questions.

She’s asleep within minutes, her breathing slow and steady beside me.

I pull out my phone and open the group chat with the guys.

Logan:

She got up, and I found her in the kitchen with peas pressed to her neck. I don’t think she’s fully with it. I got her back to bed. She asked me to stay. Her scent is no longer faint. She’s an Omega, and she’s our Omega.

I hit send. A moment later, it buzzes.

Ford:

I don’t understand how she’s been hiding it, but keep her safe for us.

Wes:

We need to find a way to tell her we know and that she’s safe with us.

Jace:

Do you think she knows we’re scent-matched with her?

Logan:

That’s the million dollar question.

I’m not sure what I want the answer to be. She’s hidden this from us, but there must be a reason. Her job is one only Betas can have. She has a lot riding on being able to pass. But how is she doing it? We’ll have to be gentle in how we approach her.

Chapter 11

My body registers warmth before anything else. Not from blankets or the heavy press of too many layers, but from something steadier, body heat resting just inches from mine.

The scent gives him away: clove and pinewood.

Logan is here.

For a second, I don’t move. My brain is still halfway wrapped in sleep, and for the briefest moment, I think I’m home, somewhere I don’t have to fight to stay under control.

Then my memory kicks in.

The kitchen. The peas cooling the back of my neck. The tile against my bare calves. Logan beside me, his voice close, steady, and soft. His arm wrapped around my waist as he helped me to my room.

I remember the flush that hit me, not just heat, but the low burn of need. The way I wanted to press into him, feel his scent all over my skin. If I hadn’t felt so weak, if my body hadn’t been so wrung out, we wouldn’t be clothed right now.

I get up the courage to turn over and face him.

My hoodie’s damp at the collar. The blanket’s pulled halfway over my chest, one corner bunched under Logan’s arm where it rests draped near the edge of the mattress. He’s still here, facing the ceiling. His strawberry blond hair falls into his eyes; he has such long eyelashes. My gaze travels down to his lips; they’re full and pretty.

They felt so good the other night when they all kissed me. I’ve wanted to kiss them so badly since then, but I shouldn’t make that mistake again. I don’t think I’ll recover from it.

A soft sound rises up the back of my throat. It vibrates in my chest.My eyes widen. I’ve never purred before. I slap a hand over my mouth.

Logan doesn’t move. His breathing stays steady. Maybe he didn’t hear, or I imagined the sound.

I shift back, careful not to wake him. My legs are heavy as I slide them out from under the blanket. I grab my bathroom bag from my suitcase.

I cross to the en suite bathroom and shut the door without making a sound.

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