The Pack’s Pajamas

Chapter 1

Blair

“Mrow.”

“Absolutely not.”

Piercing expectant green eyes stare impatiently at me, but I’m not having it.

“You’ve already had three treats,” I say, not caring that the cat doesn’t speak my language.

Maybe Alvin does, based on the way he cocks his head and lets out a dramatic yowl, so loud that a chuckle sounds from next to me.

“He can have one more, Blair,” Piper chides. “He’s been a good boy today.”

The tabby cat plops his butt on the counter in front of my computer, engaging in a stare down with me.

I won’t be the first to blink, though.

“The vet said he’s overweight—we have to watch it with him,” I remind Piper.

Our resident tabby cat finally moves to lick his paw, begging forgotten, and I grin in triumph.

“Buzzkill,” my best friend mutters next to me as I subtly move the glass jar of treats off the counter and into the desk drawer.

It’s tempting to spoil Alvin, whose portrait hangs on the wall next to the front door of Furs and Purrs, the cat rescue Piper and I run. He’s always happy to greet new people and knows exactly what to do to manipulate people into giving him treats.

I, however, am not so easily persuaded.

It’s the end of the day, and he’s been spoiled enough, even though it’s hard to say no to a pair of handsome eyes.

“Do you want to come over tonight?” Piper asks. “We’re all doing a movie night. I bought way too much wine.”

I smile to myself. It’s been a year since my best friend finally found her pack, and as fun as it can be to hang out with them, it’s a little tiring at times.

I’m the…fifth wheel, so to speak.

Even though Piper insists I’m not, and her Alphas Poe, Maddox, and Avery do everything they can to make me feel welcome, it’s still a little awkward for me to sit with four people who are absolutely obsessed with each other.

I love seeing my best friend happy, but sometimes, it’s a bit much.

“Nah. I have a shift tonight.”

“You work there every night, now,” Piper admonishes. “And I thought I was the workaholic.”

“Not every day, thank you,” I say. “Besides, the tips are insane, the job is great, and I like my coworkers.”

I realize my mistake as soon as I say it, and Piper gives me a smug, toothy grin.

“Oh, stop it,” I hiss. “You know what I mean.”

But my face flames, and even Alvin stops his bathtime to stare at me.

I’m not lying, though. Bartending at Scents is demanding but fun. There’s a lot of quick thinking, multitasking, and energy that is required to do well at the Omega-themed bar. I leave every shift with a ridiculous number of tips, and my coworkers are great.

And yes, every coworker is wonderful, not just a particular one.

But Piper’s expression doesn’t change, and I know she sees right through me.

“Ooh, what outfit are you wearing tonight?” Maeve asks as she bursts through the cat playroom, a wriggling black kitten in her hands. “You should do the purple skirt again. I love that one. But only if Travis is there.”

I hear Piper huff behind me. “Maeve—” she starts, but the other Omega’s eyes widen, and she makes a motion of zipping her mouth closed.

I roll my eyes. Maeve is loud and opinionated with a good heart but has a bad habit of blurting out anything that comes into her head.

She’s also sharp and cunning, and she’s the best staff addition we’ve made to Furs and Purrs. Her sweet chamomile scent is a relaxing balm to the cats we house, and she has the special ability to tame almost any anxiety-ridden feline.

Which is ironic, because with her recently box dyed violet hair and head-to-toe black punk outfit, one would think she was unapproachable.

Yet the black kitten that was squirming in her arms has fallen asleep cradled against her chest.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, unable to keep quiet for long, “I forgot we’re not talking about him.”

“Dear god,” Piper mutters behind me, rubbing her forehead. “Well, now that you brought it up—"

“It’s fine, Maeve,” I tell her gently. “And yes, he’ll be there tonight.”

But it doesn’t mean anything is the unspoken part.

Travis is a friend. He’s quiet, a good listener, and always cracks a smile when I tell him a stupid joke.

But he’s just a friend.

That’s all he can be.

Maeve is all smiles again as she plucks the kitten from her chest, kissing it on the top of its head dramatically.

“I love this one,” she declares. “I don’t know how the two of you don’t go home with every cat that comes in here.”

I chance a glance at Piper, smirking. “This one seems to accumulate a new cat every month.”

“Hey,” she huffs, crossing her arms. “I’m making up for lost time, okay? I didn’t have a cat for years. I’m allowed as many as I want.”

I’m not going to argue with her. I’d rather see my best friend happy as opposed to how she was for so long.

This new Piper with a pack is more carefree than I ever imagined she could be, and I’m proud of her.

But unfortunately, now that Piper is the one that’s not struggling, more unnecessary attention has been put on me and how I’m doing.

Chatty, good-intentioned Maeve doesn’t help either.

Me? I’m doing just fine, thank you.

I am fine.

Everything is fine.

I have two jobs, I co-own a cat rescue, and I’m financially stable. My parents are great, I’m saving up for a down payment on a home, and my car is paid off.

I have my shit together, as Piper would say.

There’s nothing more I, as an unmated Omega, could want.

“So, the purple skirt and what else is part of the outfit?” Maeve continues. “You should do that black corset top again. I loved it. Very goth and sexy.”

“That’s the plan,” I tell her.

My shift at Scents tonight will be a far cry from my day at Furs and Purrs. My lint roller is ready to catch any lingering cat hair from my clothing, my glittery makeup is in my purse, and my nighttime outfit is ready to go in my car.

Getting ready in the rescue’s bathroom has become second nature to me. We always keep an extra pair of tweezers in there and a subtle violet body spray that accentuates my natural Omega scent. A curling wand stays under the sink so I can quickly undo my ponytail and make my blonde hair presentable.

I walk into that bathroom in light wash jeans and a sweatshirt with the Furs and Purrs logo on it and emerge someone that’s ready to make at least a couple hundred dollars in tips for the night.

When I’m feeling a little feisty, I add an extra sprinkle of glitter to my cheeks and eyelids.

My outfit planning is interrupted by the electronic chiming of our door and a distressed older woman walking in, a cat carrier under her arm.

“Hi there,” she says, a little breathless. “Can you girls help me? I found these little ones outside of a coffee shop near my house.”

Piper leaps into action, rounding the corner of the front counter while Alvin hops down, curious at the new arrivals. A resounding chorus of sweet mews sound from the black mesh carrier, and Maeve lets out a small “aww.”

One thing I’ve learned since working here—kittens never stop.

They spawn in the most random places, and every time I think I’ve heard it all, it’s something new.

They can be anywhere—someone’s wall, a box in a garage, the undercarriage of a car—they never stop showing up.

Piper educated me on the cat distribution system, but it never ceases to amaze me.

The woman places the carrier on the counter, and Piper unzips the top.

Out jump three cream and orange colored kittens, meowing and cautiously exploring the counter.

“Did you happen to find the mother anywhere?” I ask the woman, who shakes her head. “That’s fine. We can set up a trap there for her.”

“They look around five to six weeks,” Piper says, gently petting the one with the striped orange tail. “And a little skinny. We’ll get them fed.”

“Can you take them?” the woman asks hopefully.

Piper nods. “We have room right now, and we should be able to get them adopted out. Or, you could foster them until we find homes. Have you ever fostered before?”

The woman, who I recognize as an Omega based on her scent, nods tentatively.

“I have. I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing it again, now that my children are out of the house and it’s just my husband and me.

” She turns to the kittens, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

“It would be nice to have company at home.”

“We can give you a box of supplies to make it easy,” I add as a kitten makes its way toward me.

I hold out my hand and navigate the creature away from the keyboard at my desk.

“And we’ll stay in contact with you during the process.

” But my gentle redirection doesn’t help, and I end up with the kitten pressed against my chest, shedding fur on me in the process.

We go through at least a lint roller a day at the rescue. It’s at the point where we add them to our online wishlists.

“There’s no pressure,” Maeve adds, still clutching the sleeping black kitten. “But it does get addicting. You end up wanting to keep all of them.”

I smile softly, still marveling about Maeve’s ability to connect with everyone that comes into the rescue. She’s the sister of Piper’s packmate, Avery, and just like her brother, she’s an excellent communicator.

And based on the older woman’s reaction to Maeve’s words, I know we’ve officially added another foster to our growing list of people willing to help the cats of Luna County.

“I’m Beth,” the woman says fondly, looking to me.

“I’m Blair, and that’s Piper and Maeve,” I reply, nodding to each of my friends. “And welcome to the cat community. Once you’re here, you’re stuck in it,” I warn her.

Beth raises a grey eyebrow. “I can’t wait,” she says.

Beth leaves the rescue with the kittens in tow, a box of fostering supplies tucked into the backseat of her car, and wearing a teal Furs and Purrs sweatshirt.

Ever since Piper’s pack bought the building from our greedy ex landlord, we’ve been able to invest in the rescue properly.

Our cat playroom is spacious with multiple cat towers and ledges built into the wall for the cats to explore on.

Our supply closet is full of food, litter, medicine, and other donations from the public.

We share the building with a low-cost vet clinic, which not only helps cats but also the other animals in Luna County.

We’ve even been able to donate to other rescues across the state and take in overflow of cats in need from other counties.

It's a dream setup, and it’s all because of Piper’s pack.

I couldn’t be more grateful to my best friend who insisted I be co-owner with her.

The rescue has given me a purpose beyond just making a living.

My business degree has come in handy through all of this, and I’ve set the goal of making Furs and Purrs the most efficient and resourceful rescue in the country.

I’m turning into a crazy cat lady like Piper, and I’m not ashamed.

After a few more successful adoptions and accepting a generous donation that’s delivered from an anonymous online supporter, I head to the bathroom and discard my jeans and sweatshirt.

After my new outfit is on, I curl my hair into loose waves, then take my time doing a smokey eye with silver glitter pressed onto my eyelids.

The goal tonight is to bring out the warmth in my skin, the hazel in my eyes, and the gold in my hair.

The more tips, the better.

I used to hate my Omega scent. It’s floral, and I used to worry that it was too powdery. Now, I embrace the sweet violet and honey, especially since it blooms so well at Scents.

The cats don’t seem to mind it either. I’ve noticed that some felines are more drawn to me than others, based on how much I’m perfuming that month.

My own kitties, Marlin and Mervin, always find reasons to snuggle me.

So, scent wise, my Omega pheromones could be a lot worse.

Emerging from the bathroom in my full Scents outfit, I hear a low whistle. I turn to see Maeve, playfully eyeing me up and down.

“I need to get a job there,” Maeve sighs. “Just to have another reason to buy more outfits.”

“Your brother would kill you,” Piper warns, but Maeve just shakes her head.

“I’m a grown woman. If Avery has a problem with it, he can kick rocks.”

Piper raises an eyebrow, then shrugs. “Point taken. Good luck telling any of us what to do, I guess.”

“It’s fun,” I tell Maeve. “If there are any problems, Travis can take care of them.”

I clamp my mouth shut, but it’s too late.

Maeve grins wickedly, and I roll my eyes.

“Stop it,” I mutter, but Maeve just holds her hands up.

“I didn’t say anything! I’m just glad Travis is there to protect you.”

Piper shakes her head. “What the hell, Maeve.”

I fidget with the top clasp of my corset top, making sure it’s fastened correctly.

Maeve’s teasing is good-natured, and she doesn’t realize exactly why I haven’t expressed interest in Travis, or anyone, besides for friendship.

The easier answer is to just tell her, or anyone else that tries to pry, that I’m not focusing on a relationship now. I’m focusing on building a life and cherishing my independence, and that I don’t need a pack to be happy.

Which is true.

Technically, I’m happy.

Most of the time.

Or at least, I should be.

But Maeve doesn’t know that I still glance at the calendar anxiously, dreading the month where the anniversary of it is.

Piper still doesn’t know that it takes me counting to ten before I can start my car and that I grip my wheel a little too tightly on the freeway.

I’ve been good about hiding it in front of her—she’s never noticed when I drive her home or pick her up how sweaty my palms grow, or that I wipe them on my pant legs when she’s not looking.

Letting Maeve know why I’m not looking for a pack, much less interested in Travis, would just complicate things.

Maybe one day, I’ll let her in.

But right now, the one person that truly knows me is Piper.

The other people that did…

They’re not here anymore.

And that has to be okay.

Alvin stands on his hind legs and stretches his paws on my nude-colored tights, and I unhook him before he can cause a tear.

With that small interaction, I’m back in the present and saying goodbye to Piper and Maeve, the latter looking sheepish after being chastised by my best friend.

I parked far enough away that neither of them can see me counting to myself in my car.

When I finally start the engine, I plant a smile on my face and wave to them as I drive past the building.