Pack Darling Part Two

by Lola Rock

Fucking Craig.

💀💀

“Call me Cale,” he says. “Your debt’s not a problem. Wyvern Pack only owns half the city. Who do you think owns the other half?”

Weird flex, but okay.

😂😂😂

Because who needs mates? Screw destiny, fate, and all things meant-to-be. I take care of myself. And I’m done hurting.

The other half, the horny, just-awakened, needs-sex-yesterday half wonders if they’d let me call them daddy. Oh shit. I need brain bleach. Fucking hormones.

“Your omega’s home alone and probably tearing out his hair. That’s where you should be. Not here.” “You’re ours,” Finn growls. “Mine.”

It’s official. Love her. Want her forever.

She’s going to hate their plan. And if they piss her off even more? I need to distance myself. Because if I have to choose between the pack or her… I choose Lilah. Every time.

“You’ll have to excuse me.” Hikaru unfolds from his chair. “I’m calling a campus meeting. Cancel classes and call all faculty and staff to the auditorium. Ten minutes for anyone who wants a chance at keeping their job.”

If they purr, I’ll have to bail into the pond so they can’t scent me.

Watching me the same way I watch lava cakes, Finn offers me a shard of green pottery. “Killed it for you.” “What…” I suck in a breath because holy shit. The toe-breaking toad is dead. The perfect gift. He pushes it into my palm before I can react.

“I can’t bite you, but that doesn’t mean I’m letting you go. I want you on my team.” I groan into the scent-soaked fabric of his shirt. “I don’t like your teammates.” “Former teammates. Have to see if they can get back on the squad.” “You think they can change?” “They will for you.” I make a disgusted noise. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Last time we had a heart-to-heart, you said I don’t belong.” “I said you belong to me.” I grip the sheets to fight a shudder. “Didn’t happen.” “Did. You were asleep.” “Not your first time sneaking into my bedroom?” “Not my last.” He licks his lips, staring at my neck. “You smell like Orion.” He moves so slowly I could stop him, but my nervous system locks down when he softly takes my wrist. “And hot fucking caramel sauce.”

My nipples perk, saluting the alpha they very much still want to recognize as theirs, and I churn out pheromones like a caramel bomb at an ice cream factory.

“Gotta go to breakfast.” I keep walking. “I have a big day.” French toast sticks. Ice cream. Maybe a gun battle.

When Lilah dances, I find all the colors I forgot. I don’t give a shit about the pack, the Redfangs, and these ballerina bitches. All they have to do is die. Easy. Then I get forever with my star. She’s not just my reason to stay. She’s my reason to exist.

Fucker probably has snake scales. I’ll pop them off one-by-one and use ‘em to make Lilah a little clutch. She needs somewhere to keep my leash.

“Come help me grab her gifts.” “Not leaving.”

“You can do donuts in the golf cart.” “Fine.”

Things that keep Finnegan Wyvern from cliff-diving into the abyss: Lilah Saunas Mating Lilah Shopping for Lilah Saunas with Lilah? Bar fights

“Good. But you have to get Lilah’s trust before you start giving her kinky shit. Otherwise, she’ll run.” “How?” “Prove you can be the alpha she needs. We have zero street cred, so we have to show her we’re ride or die or she’ll never want to build a life with us.”

I’m always fighting omegas, so my muscle memory sets me up for betrayal. I pin my full weight on Hunter’s hips. He grunts when our bodies slam. I want to say I gasp, but nooooo. When my spread legs bump his package, I make this soft, kitteny moan, and I don’t know which of us goes more stiff. I want to disappear.

“I know.” Hunter squeezes my fingers. “All you have to do is follow your dreams. It’s our job to convince you we’re part of them.”

“Why, Mister Wyvern. Look at all that sweetness you’ve hidden away.” Celeste fans herself, and her swoon snaps me back to my public audience where I’m dry-humping a dummy and purring like a pregnant cat.

I’ll eat every slice of humble pie with a side of crow pudding.

I laugh into a fucking fantastically crunchy French toast bagel while Atlas mixes hot cocoa with the intensity of general at war. He reads the cocoa package like he’s going to be tested, measuring milk, powder, and temperature to exact fractions of a unit.

“I won’t ask you to trust me,” Atlas says. “I want you to watch me. Watch how I change for you. Watch me just as hard as I’m watching you.”

“You still wouldn’t have believed. You thought I was another omega trying to scheme my way into your money.” “We’re assholes. I’m just saying. You went to such extremes to hide from us. Give us a chance to go to the same extremes for you now that we believe the truth.” I pretend his ask doesn’t knock out my knees, hopping onto the pole and spinning. “Do your best.” “I am.” Atlas keeps watching me practice. He doesn’t blink.

“You’re going to stay with me. You’re not allowed to go away.”

There’s not just a spark in his eyes. There’s a fucking bonfire. Jett likes to submit.

Jett kisses my shoe. “If you want to keep me, I’m yours.”

“I want a private dance. Book me for seventy—no, eighty years.” “Can’t. There’s a line.”

Finn’s glimmer fades to dark. “Not if I remove the line.”

I need to be independently wealthy, have an unlimited supply of chocolate cake, and a harem of knotted manservants who fuck me and then disappear. Maybe what I need most is a lobotomy.

“Abysmal security,” Jett offers, giving off murder vibes that have Finn licking his lips and me praying for inner peace. Stop being attracted to psychos. I sigh.

“Say the word, Starfighter. I’ll turn those bitches into people leather.” A shudder rolls down to my toes, but I hide it with a swat. “We’re at the police station.” Hunter, Atlas, and Orion give co-signing shrugs. Jett nods. “Leather-bound book.” “Bro.” Finn fist-bumps him, beaming. When the hell did they become best murder buddies?

“It’s okay,” he purrs. “I trust you to take care of her. Tell me if I’m not doing a good job. Tell me if I’m fucking up. There’s nothing I won’t throw away to keep my omegas safe.”

“You’re changing.” “So are you.” He strokes my hair. “For the better?” “All of us are. We need to be. For her.” “She’s so sweet, Atlas. So good. I’m fucking terrified she’ll walk.” “Even if she does, I won’t give up. Will you?”

“What are we?” “House cats.” My lips fall open. “What?” “House cats,” he insists. “Kinda cranky and cuddly and we’ll fuck shit up if you leave us alone too long.”

Star opens her eyes. My heart bumps—fucking golden retriever tail thumps. Lilah took my air. Next up? Get her home. Nest her hard. Give her my bite, my knot, my leash, my soul.

JJ waits for me on his knees. Collar hugging his throat. Hands behind his back. Eyes on the door.