19. Cass #2
“You wouldn’t hurt her,” JP says again after a long beat, his voice low but certain. He steps up beside me, resting a heavy hand on my shoulder, right over where Quinn’s already settled both of his. “No matter how out of control you feel.”
His grip tightens slightly. “And what the hell is that about me not knowing you? I’ve been there your whole goddamn life, Cass. If you can’t trust yourself right now, then trust me—because I do. You wouldn’t ever fucking hurt her.”
Quinn hums in agreement. “If anything, out of the three of us, you’re most likely to lock her up in our house, wrap her blankets and feed her soup for the rest of her life. Growling at anyone who dares to get too close.”
I’m suddenly overwhelmed and need to change the subject. I can’t talk about my past anymore.
“I was pretty damn sure you weren’t interested in an Omega.” I meet JP’s eyes. He just stares at me, his gaze dark.
“I’m not,” JP says, but his tone is uneven now, something slipping through the cracks. I can tell he’s lying. “But we have to talk about it.”
I let out a breath.
“Maybe she isn’t ours, isn’t meant to be the Omega in our pack…” he continues, rubbing the back of his neck like this whole conversation is costing him something. “But I don’t think we can stay away from her.”
“I don’t think I can ever be with her. Not the way an Alpha should. But I also can’t say she won’t be important to us. She may not be ours…But she is something to Blake and to Quinn, and to you, too.”
I look up. “And you? You gonna keep pretending you’re immune?”
JP’s jaw tightens. “I’m not pretending.”
“Oh come on?—”
“She’s a scent match,” he says flatly. “To me. I’ve had one before, and I won’t go through it again. I can’t.”
Quinn raises a brow. “You mean Jasmine?” Quinn wasn’t around then, but I was. Me and Daisy thought we were going to lose him.
JP doesn’t flinch, but his expression darkens. “She fucked me up, almost wrecked this pack before it even started. Nearly cost me my sister.”
“Sterling isn’t her,” Quinn says. “You know that.”
JP looks away, his jaw tight. “Doesn’t matter,” he mutters. “I’ll court her if that’s what we’re doing. But I’m not bonding with her. And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to—” He hesitates, then finishes flatly, “…Have sex with her. Knot her. Any of it.”
Something cracks in my chest, sharp and unexpected. Not because I disagree.
But part of me knows I might not survive watching JP continuously deny the pull she has on him. Fuck, scent matches are damn near a guarantee of bliss—and seeing him walk away from that might just break something in me.
He deserves a happily ever after. Maybe more than any of us.
We’ve all been dealt a shit hand at some point. I have a fucking Grade A psychopath for a father. Quinn lost his mate, the mother of his kid.
But somehow, we’ve figured out how to keep going. How to bounce back.
JP still lives like he’s half-alive. And maybe that—more than anything else—is why I find myself agreeing to court her. Because I think she might be exactly what he needs to feel again.
Quinn gives JP a measured look, then turns to me—and like he’s reading both our thoughts, he asks, “So you’re all in? For courting?”
JP nods. “I’ll help. I’ll protect her. But I’m not bonding or fucking her.”
“Fine,” I mutter. “Besides, no one’s talking about bonding yet.”
Quinn smirks. “Yet.”
I scowl.
“Look,” he says more seriously now. “Her heat’s coming.
I can smell it, and I’d bet it’s soon. Laura always had this extra intensity to her scent before a heat—and I caught the same thing on Sterling last night.
I just want to offer to help her. Obviously, she can say no.
But I want her to have the choice. Going through it alone is supposed to be really hard for an Omega. ”
JP curses under his breath.
I exhale slowly, dragging a hand through my hair. “So what, we’re just supposed to ask her? ‘Hey, you want to let us fuck you six ways from Sunday for three, maybe four days straight?’ and expect her to just say sure, sounds good?”
Quinn just nods, unfazed. “Yeah. Because she deserves that choice. And we all know damn well that some other Alpha—some other pack—might offer. Or worse, she might think one of those Heat Assistance Services is her only option.”
Something deep, feral, possessive takes root inside me.
I don’t want another Alpha touching her.
I don’t want her to do it alone.
I don’t want another pack laying a claim on her.
I don’t want her to be anyone’s but ours.
I exhale sharply, running a hand down my face, my resolve cracking.
“She deserves more than me,” I mutter.
“Then give her more,” Quinn says simply.
I stare at them, my chest tight, my head a mess, my Alpha instincts screaming at me to stop being a coward.
Quinn just waits, calm as ever, patient as hell.
JP watches me like he already knows my answer and hates it.
I scrub a hand down my face, dragging my palm across the stubble on my jaw like that’ll somehow scrape away the last shreds of resistance.
But it’s done. It’s already decided—maybe it’s been decided since the second JP pulled her out of the damn water.
“Fine,” I say, low and rough. “We offer.”
The word tastes like surrender, fate, and a warning all at once.
“But how the hell do we even say that to her?” I glance between them, tension coiling in my shoulders.
Quinn just shrugs like the answer is simple, and a broad smile lights his face. “Simple. We ask her over for dinner.”