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Celine has some balls.
Just before all three of us burst out of the room to chase Remi down, the female alpha’s sharp features appear on the threshold. “Gentlemen! Don’t even think about it,” she snaps, low and even.
All three of us open our mouths to protest, but Celine belts out a no-nonsense bark that whips me upside the head. “This is not up for debate. Remi has chosen to leave. You will let her go.” She pulls at her suit jacket and gives a solid nod. “Take a moment to collect yourselves, and we’ll discuss your options.”
As soon as the slab falls shut, the three of us have to take a full minute to shake off Celine’s dominance. Then we need another two minutes for our brains to reset.
Because holy shit, this place smells like heaven. And hell.
Remi’s stress raises my hackles on a visceral level. But the wet arousal woven into the caramelized honey and singed lavender is ev-er-y-thing.
Fuck.
Think, Damon.
Deep breath.
No. Wait. Don’t breathe. Do not brea?—
Annnnnd I have a boner.
I’m not alone, though. A quick glance around tells me that my pack brothers are all in the same, woody boat.
Apart from the poke-your-eye-out bulge in his two-thousand-dollar pants, Smith looks like he’s ready to murder someone. Which is weird because that’s usually Cassian’s job. Instead, he just seems… frozen.
I shift on my feet. Clearly, there’s some shit we need to talk about. This is unfamiliar territory for our pack. We don’t usually have discussions. Or, you know, share about our feelings. Or talk, actually.
Cassian and I used to be different. He’s withdrawn more and more over the years. And maybe, now that I’ve met Remi, that makes sense… but, at the time? I hated it.
Over the years, Smith has been gone more and more, too. He stopped showing up for every game. Then he stopped showing up for most games. Now we have a box with our pack name on it, sitting empty, week after week.
If I ever let myself slow down enough to think about it… yeah. That shit would hurt.
I found a new normal with them because I didn’t have a choice. Silent workouts. Passing each other for three minutes in the unfinished kitchen sometimes. Sharing UberEats for holiday meals. Occasionally catching a game or a movie on TV.
It got to the point where random puck bunnies were the best companionship I had. Going home with a random girl wasn’t really what I wanted—but, hell, at least it was someone’s home. A few hours to trick myself into feeling less alone.
Because facing the truth was too hard. But no matter how much I tried to deny it, the fact remains: we are not the pack we used to be. And we have never been a pack that talked.
This room is making me itchy for about eight different reasons. But mostly because I don’t have Remi on top of me. And the whole place is just full of her.
Shock echoes through all three of us while we stare at the door. Beastly shakes his off first, slowly turning to glare right at his brother. “What the fuck have you done?”
Smith doesn’t answer. His scent is past super-dark-roast and edging more into smoking-cinders-after-a-nuclear-explosion.
Right.
Time to diffuse this clusterfuck of a situation.
“So, she’s really the one?” I ask Cassian. “The girl from the group home? The hot one who used to bake you cookies?”
I remember being jealous that he got to leave school and head “home” to a cute girl who made him treats, while I had to shuffle back to whatever couch I had crashed out on that month.
Cassian laces his fingers behind his neck, muttering in a snarl, “I never said she was hot. She was sixteen, for fuck’s sake.”
Yeah, and we were seventeen. And shitheads.
Okay, okay. He might not have said “hot.” He probably didn’t even imply it. He always was weirdly protective of her. Chivalrous and shit.
