The worst part?
Their combined scent isn’t terrible.
It should be overwhelming. Four alphas in an enclosed space should smell like a territory war waiting to happen. But instead, their scents somehow blend into something that’s almost... harmonious?
That’s why they’re a pack. They’re meant to fit together.
And my traitorous omega is very interested in that.
“No,” I tell her firmly. “Absolutely not. We are not interested. They are the enemy. They stole the Sterling wedding.”
My omega doesn’t care about the Sterling wedding.
My omega cares that there are four strong, healthy alphas in very close proximity and I’m about to go into heat.
“We are in control,” I mutter, grabbing another pillow and aggressively fluffing it. “We are a modern, independent omega who doesn’t need a pack of alphas. We have our own business. We have a five-year plan. We have?—”
A knock at the door makes me freeze mid-fluff.
“Sierra?” It’s Malik’s voice, all professional and courteous. “We’re ordering dinner. Do you have any dietary restrictions we should know about?”
I open the door a crack, very aware that I probably look like a mess. “I’m fine. I have my cinnamon rolls.”
“You can’t survive on cinnamon rolls,” he says, and there’s something almost amused in his expression. “We’re getting Thai food from a place in town that’s still delivering before the storm hits. Spring rolls, pad Thai, green curry. You should eat something substantial.”
My stomach chooses that exact moment to growl, betraying me completely.
Malik’s lips twitch. “I’ll take that as a yes. Any allergies?”
“No,” I mutter. “And... thank you.”
He nods and heads back down the hall. I close the door and lean against it, taking a deep breath.
This is fine. I can handle this. It’s just dinner. Then tomorrow they’ll leave and?—
Thunder crashes outside, loud enough to rattle the windows.
I move to look out at the ocean. The waves are already getting rough, white-capped, and angry. The sky is a bruised purple-gray, and the wind is picking up.
This is going to be a bad storm.
Which means I might be stuck with the Knightley Pack for more than just one night.
I return to my nest and try very hard not to think about what that means for an omega going into heat.
Cole
“I’m going to kill someone at that rental company,” Dax announces, pacing the length of the living room like a caged bear. “This is unacceptable.”
“It’s done,” Malik says, rummaging through his bag. “We deal with it.”
“Deal with it? We’re stuck in a house with Sierra fucking Smith. The same Sierra Smith who told every vendor in Sweetwater City that we were ‘unethical corporate raiders.’”
“To be fair,” I point out from my position sprawled on the couch, “we did poach three of her best vendors.”
“That’s business,” Dax snaps.
“That’s what I said! She didn’t seem to agree.”
