Good luck.
Fuck.
We are going to need it.
CHAPTER 7
The Rules Of Engagement
~MABELINE~
"These are the rules."
I stand in the middle of the living room with my hands clasped in front of me, channeling every ounce of confident energy I can muster. Which, admittedly, is not a lot after the day I have had. Slushie drenching, naked hockey player confrontation, childhood bully reunion, luggage death, brother standoff. My reserves of bravado are running dangerously low.
But fake it until you make it, right?
That is the Mabeline Mae Rose way.
The three Alphas are arranged in front of me like a jury about to deliver a verdict. Cal is sprawled on the couch, his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, those amber eyes sparkling with barely suppressed amusement. His cinnamon roll scent fills the space around him, warm and inviting in a way that feels almost deceptive coming from someone who used to call me names on the playground.
Etienne is perched on the armrest beside him, looking curious rather than hostile. His storm-blue eyes track my movements with an attention that makes my skin prickle, though not unpleasantly. His evergreen and old books scent hassettled into a calm, steady presence that my Omega hindbrain finds inexplicably comforting.
And Rafe.
Rafe is leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest, still glowering from the earlier confrontation with his packmate. His cedar smoke scent has soured with residual anger, sharp enough to make my nose twitch. He looks like a storm waiting to break, all tension and barely contained aggression.
They are all looking at me like I have grown a second head.
"Um..." Cal tilts his head, those dimples threatening to appear. "We moved in here before you. Pretty sure we already have established rules and routines and all that."
I put my hands on my hips, refusing to be intimidated by the very obvious height difference between us. Even seated, Cal is nearly at eye level with me. Standing, all three of them tower over my five-foot-four frame like redwoods looking down at a sapling struggling to reach the sun.
Do not think about the height difference. Do not think about how their combined scents are making your hindbrain do gymnastics. Focus, Mae. Focus.
"Sure," I say, injecting as much sass into my voice as I can manage. "But I am an Omega. Versus the three Alphas in front of me." I gesture at them with a sweeping motion, encompassing all that height and muscle and testosterone. "That makes this dynamic completely unbalanced and unfair. So in order for me to not feel like I am being constantly overwhelmed by waves of Alpha energy, there need to be some rules. Non-negotiables. Ground rules that we all agree to follow."
Rafe huffs from his position against the wall, the sound dripping with derision.
"See?" He directs this at Cal, his voice carrying that vindicated edge of someone proving a point. "You weredefending her like she is some delicate princess who needs protection. But look at her. She does not like to be pushed around either. Wants to be the one doing the pushing."
"Shut up, Rafe." Cal does not even look at him.
Etienne frowns, his storm-blue eyes flickering between his two packmates with growing concern.
"Speaking of which," he says slowly, "why were you two fighting earlier? Miss Phillip mentioned an altercation, but neither of you have actually explained what happened."
Silence.
Heavy, uncomfortable silence that stretches like taffy and settles over the room like a fog.
Cal's jaw tightens. Rafe's glare intensifies. Neither of them says a word, both suddenly fascinated by opposite corners of the room.
"Nothing," they both mutter at the same time.
Interesting. Very interesting. So they were fighting about something they do not want to discuss in front of me. Probably something related to me, given the timing and the guilty way they are both avoiding eye contact.
Good to know I am already causing drama just by existing. Classic Mabeline.
