Page 111 of How to Lose a Pack in 10 Dates

“And the fake one?” Zara asks.

“It’s half-finished, but it’s weak,” I frown. “I lost the bite somewhere between Cam making me tea and Jace giving me his good pillow. I know it sounds crazy to say, but I can’t even remember why I started this in the first place. It feels… kind of dumb. I don’t know.”

“It wasn’t dumb. It was funny,” Lex shrugs. “Is Rachel…mad?”

“No. At least, I don’t think so. She says it’ll go viral either way; that omegas love drama, but theyworshiphappy endings. Especially the kind that involves multiple hot alphas and slow emotional growth arcs.”

“I couldn’t agree more with that take,” Zara salutes with her wine.

“Cheers: to being emotionally wrecked and scent-matched by a three-man pack with Olympic thighs,” Lex grins.

“To accidental love,” Zara says with a rolls her eyes, before smirking over at me. “Andto knowing what a good knot can fix.”

We finish dinner in a haze of carbs and estrogen, cackling over alpha jawlines, scent triggers, and the horrifying realization that I might have accidentally landed in the only pack in the city that makes me feel like I’m not too much.

For once, though, I’m not actively dreading what comes next.

In fact, I’m kind ofexcited.

*

By the time I make it home, the house smells like heaven. And not just because someone’s baking something cinnamon-scented and borderline illegal—though that helps.

It’s the layered comfort of them. The faint trace of Cam’s warmth lingering by the door, the grounding spice of Jace’s cologne in the hallway, the sharper, cleaner scent that always follows Wes around. The way it all blends into something that smells like safety and want and—god help me—home.

I toe off my boots and pad into the living room, expecting chaos.

What I find iscalm.

Jace is sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, one hand idly rubbing his neck while Cam flips through a recipe book beside him, tongue poking out in concentration. There’s flour on his cheek. Wes is on the couch, one ankle crossed over his knee, half-watching the others while pretending to be invested in his emails.

They all look up when I walk in.

Cam beams, Jace lifts a hand in greeting, and Wes… He just watches me, like I’m the only thing in the room worth seeing.

I shift, suddenly shy. “Hey.”

Cam’s already standing. “We were just talking about whether cinnamon rolls count as dinner.”

“Theyabsolutelydo,” I nod, wandering further in.

“You’ve got flour on your—” I reach up and brush Cam’s cheek. He leans into the touch, grinning.

“You smell good,” he murmurs. “Where’ve you been?”

“Dinner with Lex and Zara. There was wine. There were threats. Zara might be planning to adopt me.”

Jace laughs. “Please let her. She’d be a great Omega Godmother.”

“I’m not a baby,” I protest.

Cam pulls me into a hug anyway. “You’reourbaby.”

I snort, even as I melt against him. He smells so good: warm and sweet and perfectly Cam. His arms wrap around me without hesitation, and I let myself breathe for a second—sink into the quiet, easy comfort of it all.

He lets me go with one last squeeze, brushing a kiss over the top of my head before walking into the kitchen. I follow his lead, lingering near the kitchen doorway, tugging at the hem of my skirt and trying not to feel too much.

Jace offers me a grape from the bowl he’d been demolishing on the coffee table. I throw it in my mouth and catch him smiling at me like I’ve just passed some kind of pack-level aptitude test.

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