Chapter 6
Iwake up cuddled against a warm chest, and for a split second I think it might be my alpha from last night.
My fucking scent match, holy shit. How amazing is that?
I burrow closer and the scent of a summer rain and warm earth fills my nose.
That’s not my alpha…I don’t think it’s an alpha at all.
It’s subtle, but so good. Whoever it is smells safe and mine too…
but it can’t be mine, I found mine last night.
Well…shit.
Maybe I need my nose checked. I couldn’t have found two scent matches in less than two days.
The odds of that are so slim as to be pretty much impossible.
Shit, it took me twenty-nine years just to find one, so how the fuck would I find two that fast?
Fuck me. Who the fuck would I even ask about that?
A low guitar thrum and quiet singing filter into my muzzy brain as I take another deep breath, trying to draw in more of that fresh scent.
Something vibrates against my back, and I try to push away from the solid wall of muscle I’m pressed against.
Which is super frustrating because it’s warm and cozy and I want to stay here and fall back to sleep.
But I need to figure out what the hell’s going on, too.
Shit. Finally forcing my eyes open, I stare up into the face of.
..I don’t know this person. He’s vaguely familiar, like I should know him—lord knows, if I’m huffing his chest, it’s rude that I don’t remember the guy.
He’s cute too, not that I can see much from this angle, but big and burly.
His chestnut hair has spiky bangs falling across his forehead.
Oh shit, he better not have shaved the sides.
Seriously, what is with guys and that short on the sides, long on the top haircut?
It’s like an immediate douchebag identifier.
The dude might be sweet as pie, but that’ll automatically throw up a few red flags.
That shit is too fucking high maintenance ’cause you can’t do that at home, and who the fuck wants to date a guy that has to go to the salon more than she does?
Plus, it just looks pretentious as fuck.
Not that I’m one to talk. I let mine grow out to my chin then have it hacked off as short as they’ll go so I can avoid having to do it until it gets that long again. It’s hair, it’ll grow back.
I don’t even realize I’m staring until his blue eyes crinkle at the edges, and the vibrations against my back come to a somewhat jarring halt, along with the music. His lips stop moving to tip up lightly at the edges. “Hey, Sarah. Are you feeling any better? You’ve been pretty out of it.”
Without all the distractions, I finally notice how breezy it is. I stare down at where I’m pressed against him…on the couch…in my dorm?
How did I get here?
Why am I wearing a sheet?
Who the hell’s jacket is this?
I know I didn’t drink that much last night.
Shit, ok…think Sarah…what’s the last thing you remember?
Met a pack…sort of.
Met a scent match, I think…
Ok, that checks out.
Sat there and listened to him talk for a long time…
I don’t think I drank anything but water.
Fuck brain…WORK!!
Fuzzy images slide across my mind of waking up and feeling like ten pounds of shit in a five-pound bag. I called Kimberly for help, and she sent someone down. Did I have a messed-up dream about Captain America? Was Doctor Terra there? Fuck, did I embarrass myself? Shit.
My gaze slides back up to the big beta holding me. His small smile is nowhere in sight now, and my voice is a rough croak when I try to talk to him. “Hey, um…Who are you again? Sorry, my head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and I’m having a few issues here.”
His expression falls, his eyes flicking back and forth between mine before he seems to collect himself. “You don’t remember me?”
Shit, what did I do last night?
My hand comes up, feeling around my neck for a bond mark I don’t remember getting.
No, that’s not it. Alright, worst-case scenario averted at least. His eyes follow the movement and he looks upset.
“Ok, for one, I can’t bond you unless you initiate it.
Fuck, I wouldn’t even if I could. Seriously?
No, we met a few hours ago…but I wouldn’t do that kinda shit, it’s fucked up. ”
Before I can mumble any sort of apology, he goes on.
“My name’s Greg…well, Gregory, but most people call me Greg.
I work as a guard normally in dorms A through C.
Kimberly, your dorm supervisor, sent me to your room when you called for help this morning.
You didn’t answer the door, so I wrapped you up as best as I could and took you to the clinic…
Any of this ringing a bell, Sweetheart?”
Sweetheart?
Really?
Not a damned thing about me is sweet, so I don’t know where he’s getting his intel.
Still, I did just inadvertently accuse him of bonding me, so I’ll let it go.
This time.
“Sorry…um…Greg?” His lips twitch up slightly. “I really don’t remember much after I got to the mixer last night and met some alphas. I feel hungover as fuck. Please tell me I didn’t do something stupid or embarrassing…or both.”
His smile is back to its full brilliance now, blue eyes sparkling in the dim light as I try to focus more on our surroundings.
It looks like we’re in my living room. Shaggbutt’s pen is clearly visible and the calico monster has his black nose stuck through the bars, snuffling in our general direction.
I am so fucking fucked. We’re not supposed to have pets.
Kimberly knows. But she also told me that as far as anyone else is concerned, she doesn’t know.
I can’t throw her under the bus like that.
Greg follows my gaze to my fuzzy friend and his smile grows.
I feel movement behind me and suddenly he’s setting an acoustic guitar down…
I guess that’s what the vibration was from.
Keeping his arms around me, he stands and steps over to Shaggy’s home.
He squats down and settles me across the top of his thighs.
“He’s a cutie…wait, is it a he or a she? I don’t want to offend your bun.”
A startled laugh breaks free at the thought of offending the fluffy potato that lives with me. “He, Mr. Shaggbutt, is a guy. But thank you for asking. He’s a tri-color mini lop. Adorably soft but with all the attitude and a bit prissy at times. He’s kind of a little shit, but I love him.”
Greg’s hand stops inching closer to the pen at my statement, and I realize he’s waiting for me to give him permission. “Oh, no, you can totally pet him; he’s an attention whore. He’s also a spoiled brat though, and he will demand all the pets once you start, I just wanted to warn you.”
His chuckle is low as he wedges a big finger through the rails and gently rubs up and down the top of Shaggy’s nose, ruffling his fur and causing him to hop away and kick his back legs up. “Shit, sorry if I upset him, he just looks so soft.”
I smile up at Greg. The more I look at him, the cuter he is…
shit, and I want to bite my own tongue as I hear myself giggle.
I don’t fucking giggle. “Oh, no, he’s totally soft.
But he’s also a bit of a diva, and heaven help you if you muss up his fur; he holds a grudge.
But rabbits don’t usually like to have the top of their noses rubbed—they can’t see you coming, and they don’t like surprises.
Most often, he nips in response, or at least thumps.
You got off lucky. Maybe he likes how you smell. ”
Greg beams brightly at me as Shaggy burrows into the corner, tossing his bedding around and acting out.
I look from my fluffy roommate to the smiling beta.
“Please don’t tell. I know you don’t have a reason not to.
But I need Shaggy, ok? He keeps me sane.
He’s the only one I can really talk to around here anymore.
Yes, I know I’m breaking the rules by having him here, but… please.”
He looks somber. “Nah, he’s your family.
Besides, I’d have had to see you breaking some rules, and I guess I forgot my glasses this morning or something.
Maybe. Everything’s just blurry as hell.
I’ll have to take care of that when I get back to my place.
” His smile is back as he looks back at Shaggy.
“Wait, you normally wear glasses. That sounds cute.”
Kill me now. Why did I say that?
His eyes flick to mine, his open smile turning into more of a smirk.
“Nah, contacts…but I’m sure I have an old pair if you want to give your opinion.
” He waggles his brows at me. Part of me wants to roll my eyes at his overt flirting, but I can’t seem to.
My snark has left the building at some point.
Pulling back to give myself some space, I realize I feel better. More of this morning is filtering in since I started panicking about Shaggy. Nothing like a hit of fear to shock your system completely awake.
My cheeks heat as I remember that I’m still just wearing a sheet and what can only be Greg’s jacket. I spring up, nearly losing my protective outer layer in my attempt to get to my nest and get some actual clothes on.
By the time I get back, Shaggy is loose in the room, head-butting Greg and, predictably, demanding more attention.
The big beta seems a bit confused about how to approach the situation, so I sit down and lift Shaggy into my lap, running my open palm from the top of his head down to his fluffy little ass a few times, giving him the attention he pretends he never gets.
He’s a spoiled little liar, because I know for a fact he gets enough cuddles that he’s often annoyed with me.
There’s just something soothing about stroking his soft fur.
When I can’t bludgeon myself unconscious with exercise, he’s my go-to stress relief.
Greg watches my hands as Shaggy closes his eyes and settles against me.
“Sorry, he came over and started to scratch at the gate. I unlatched it and he just hopped over and started running into me.”
“Yeah, he’ll do that. I did warn you he’s an attention whore.
” My hands slowly stroke down the bunny’s back, my mind settling into the rhythm, as my eyes start to droop again.
“And thank you…for your help and singing for me…and for not turning his fuzzy little ass over to housing. I don’t know what I’d do without him. ”