Chapter 62
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Too many things snap into place at once.
I run my eyes over the page a hundred times, blinking to clear my vision. Certain I must be hallucinating.
But, no. It is an omega, surrounded by a trio of alphas.
The next page is the same. Lone omegas, with small circles of alphas around them. Clusters of three, four, or sometimes five.
Holy hells.
“They’re… in groups,” our mate whispers. Hope and confusion burn bright in her pretty eyes. “L-like us?”
I can’t resist the urge to press my lips to the soft crease between her brows. A kiss, she called it. “Yes, my heart.”
All digitized records of mated omegas only mentioned pairs, never more than one alpha with an omega. That’s why I originally resorted to combing through the dusty, cracked tomes archived within our capital—trying to find any evidence that certain omegas drew more than one mate at a time.
And here it is.
“What is that word?” Norabi chimes, pointing over Zolkan’s shoulder. Uncaring that we’re both in loincloths, and Sofi’s only wearing a sheet. Then again, I’m sure the scent in here is quite a turn-off for the female alpha.
I follow her clawed finger to the word marked under one particular group. It looks similar to our Roktusian term for “clan,” but different. “Get the holotab,” I mumble.
Norabi retrieves the one on the windowsill.
Zolkan has been using it to keep himself apprised of important matters while Sofi sleeps, but he refused to bring it near her nest. I can tell he still doesn’t like the idea when he nuzzles his face against the back of Sofi’s hand instead of going to fetch it.
His second-in-command swipes it open, scanning the foreign series of symbols and shoving them through a database of old Roktusian. The tekk searches through our language libraries, spitting out a translation within seconds.
“Pack,” she reads.
The word instantly snaps to my center. Fitting in a way nothing else ever has.
Pack.
I know it’s the same for the other alphas in the room when Zolkan shudders. Norabi swallows loudly enough for me to hear, quietly repeating the word as her hand and the holotab fall to her side.
“A… pack.”
It’s like hearing a name I know, but had forgotten. Someone familiar. Cherished, even.
Warmth suffuses my center as Sofi trembles. “A… a pack? Like… wolves?”
Zolkan frowns at her. “What is a ‘wolves,’ stryllas?”
She smiles absently. “A wolf. They’re Earth animals who live in groups. Packs, we call them. And there’s a hierarchy, based on which wolf is the most dominant. Sort of like—”
“Us,” I finish, looking at Zolkan. We’re both alphas, but he’s the Prime Alpha. More dominant than anyone—even Rask and all his arrogance.
“And in these packs,” Zolkan goes on, “the wolves fight each other?”
Sofi shakes her head, silken brown hair falling over her shoulders. “No. They work together to protect their babies and—”
Our omega cuts herself off, awe glinting in her gaze and clinging to her final words. “—and their mates.”
Gods. Of course.
It’s alarming how much sense the concept makes.
The last two days have been a perfect example—how Zolkan and I have been able to keep Sofi so perfectly content, without either of us ever getting overtaxed.
The way we naturally work together, in close quarters, and don’t feel territorial over our mate…
as long as we’re the only ones here. Helping each other. For her.
The truth of our situation sails into my center, smoldering like a meteor.
We are a pack.