Pack Darling Part Two

by Lola Rock

“Didn’t happen.” “Did. You were asleep.” “Not your first time sneaking into my bedroom?” “Not my last.”

I totally just cracked the code. Steal Wyvern Pack's clothes and stuff them ’til they’re man-shaped.

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

She pales, but quickly regains her old-money confidence. “All I did was introduce you to a pack that’s a better fit for your status. It’s not my fault your charm makes men want to—” “Can I kill her?”

She’s not just my reason to stay. She’s my reason to exist.

Bodyguarding Lilah Darling is the career path they never told me about at the academy. I would’ve gone to class.

Don’t let me catch you sneaking in again.” “Okay.” You won’t catch me.

I stand at Lilah’s door, sucking her candy-sweet scent and waiting for her to fall asleep so I can sneak between her sheets.

She can shoot me, stab me, bite me. It’ll all be good if it’s Lilah. Without her, I don’t feel at all.

You love each other and the sex is bananas. Get over yourselves.

“Nice.” The torturing. Not the therapy.

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.

Lilah’s the only thing holding me together. Fucking hate having her out of sight, and I don’t know what happens if I go farther away.

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

Love me a golf cart. I’d tip it, but I can’t hurt Lilah’s gifts.

The knives I chose aren’t here yet, but my other picks are just as sexy. Vivid orange lingerie for her and spiked collars for her to put on me.

“Finn,” Hunter makes that strained, the-fuck-are-you-doing-now voice that I love.

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

Hunter peers all up in my eyes, but what the fuck does he expect to find in there? It’s like an empty well in my head.

“She’s my reason.”

I don’t want to take turns. I need my Star full-time, all-the-time.

I can’t wait to headshot every asshole who looks at Lilah, even thinks of Lilah, but that doesn’t make me good for her.

I’m empty except for a borrowed thread of starlight that I have to figure out how to lock down and keep in a pretty jar. With air holes. And, like, purple Easter grass and little cookie snacks in there.

I’ll put her name on my chest so she knows she owns me.

Gonna keep my Star forever. And she’s gonna have to keep me.

Why do I love the unhinged ones the most in every book

It’s a dominance so confident, he’s happy to lie there and let me do whatever the fuck I want. He knows who’s in control.

I’m playing with fire, scissors, and fucking C4

“You can’t actually give it back.” Hunter lifts his hands. “The check is symbolic. The money’s already been deposited.”

“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.”

Only Finn would never wag his tail like a golden retriever trying to catch my attention. He’d hand me a Molotov cocktail with a smirk and tell me where to throw.

“Wyvern? Hunter, right?” Cale asks. “I think I saw you briefly at the hospital?” “Kind of his fault I was there,” I say, drawing the attention away from my GQ shadow. “Don’t mind him.”

I brought my own from home, but every time I stab a guy, I lose the blade. More knives is always better.

If they come at me with maple nut, this is over.

They made me two dishes of chocolate and two of vanilla, all with basic fudge and cookie crumbles. I’d rather make my own bowl.

Oh no. They’re opera people.

opera? I don’t do music unless it has a bass line.

How do you feel about lamb?” Like it belongs in a pasture?

I limit my hobby list to reading and dancing because I don’t think they’ll be impressed with my ability to craft shivs from household objects.

Thankfully, they don’t ask for my booklist. I’d have to lie and pretend I read anything other than tax law and shifter smut.

Scratch the tax law and it’s me

Nobody tried to kidnap me, I didn’t get shot, and I wasn’t too awkward. It’s my most successful event ever.

“Soothe your omega,” Celeste croons, ignoring my slow internal meltdown. “Stroke its back and say something sweet.” My “omega” is a demented life-sized sock doll spritzed with synthetic pheromones.

I flinch at the doll’s drawn-on face. The only compliment that comes to mind is thank you for not coming to life and chasing me through a cornfield.

I cough. “Was that right?” “Did it feel right?” It felt fucking creepy.

Turns out, I have to say what I feel.

Need to see her. Feel so fucking unspooled, I wonder if this is what it’s like for Finn all the time.

Lilah Darling will be the death of me. And I can’t wait to suffer.

“Your schedule for tomorrow just got canceled.” “Why? What now?” “Bomb threat. I’ll text you if I have more info.” “I don’t have a phone.” “You do,” Orion says. “I’ll set it up for you.” “Sure,” I agree, still stuck on bomb. Am I seriously worth this much fuss? “Yes,” the three of them answer at the same time. Great. I’ve officially reached the level of Wyvern brain-fry where I start speaking my thoughts aloud.

Orion and I lift our brows in unison, but I quickly twist the expression into a scowl. We’re getting waaaaay too much on the same wavelength.

Too cute. Must be stopped. I put a pillow over his face.

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.