My muscles unclench without me even realizing they'd gone tight.
The bookstore sits just outside the zoo complex, tucked between a coffee shop and a toy store. A little brass bell rings when we step inside. The air is cooler, still carrying the faint scents of paper, ink, a bit of dust, and something sweet from the café next door.
This is my kind of heaven.
Drake immediately veers toward the humor section. Eli gravitates toward science and nature. Ragon stands near the entrance, arms crossed, watching the street through the window like he's expecting trouble but hoping he's wrong.
I wander toward the fiction shelves, fingers trailing along spines.
Romance. Always romance. The kind with happy endings, with fated mates and pack bonds and omegas who get chosen and kept and loved. The kind that makes my chest ache because it feels so close to what I have but not quite the same.
Not quite permanent.
I pull a book off the shelf—something about a rejected omega finding her true pack—and flip it open to a random page.
"You were always meant to be ours," the alpha said, his hand cupping her face. "From the moment I scented you, I knew."
My throat tightens.
I close the book and put it back.
"Find something good?" Eli appears at my elbow, two books already tucked under his arm.
"Just browsing."
His gaze flicks to the book I just shelved, then back to my face. He doesn't say anything, but his scent softens—understanding, gentle.
He knows.
He always knows.
"Come on," he says quietly, taking my hand. "Let's see what Drake's found. I guarantee it's either completely unhinged or surprisingly thoughtful. No in-between."
I let him tug me away from the romance section, away from the fantasies I shouldn't let myself want too much.
Drake has, predictably, found a book calledAlphas Behaving Badly: A History of Pack Disastersand is reading passages out loud to Ragon, who looks like he's reconsidering every life choice that led to this moment.
"Listen to this one," Drake says, grinning. "'The pack attempted to celebrate their omega's heat by releasing doves indoors. The doves were not properly trained. Chaos ensued.'"
"That's not real," Ragon says.
"It's in the book. The book doesn't lie."
"The book is clearly fiction."
"You're just scared we'll try it."
"If you release doves in my house—"
"Ourhouse," Drake corrects, then winks at me.
Eli sighs. "We're not releasing doves."
"Not with that attitude," Drake mutters.
I laugh despite everything, the sound surprising me. The tightness in my chest eases a fraction.
This. This is what I have. This is real.
