11. Clara
Clara
All of the alphas are angry. I may as well be living in a dumpster fire with all the burnt scents wafting through this house. That’s what I feel like I’ve made out of this situation: a five-alarm pack fire.
Jack serves me breakfast. Turns out he’s an early bird, and had already gone out to the market and back before anyone else woke up. We eat in tense silence. Victor’s gone. I saw him walk out to the edge of the bluff through the window.
He can take a flying leap, I think savagely. But my omega whines anyway. She doesn’t like him being away, no matter how cruel he is. He’s one of her alphas.
“You can unlock the door. I’m sure Victor’s hungry,” I say, trying to sound casual, but the desperation bleeding through is pure omega instinct. I don’t want a split in the pack. It hurts. My job is to keep the harmony.
Bram snorts and Jack grunts. Dagan just looks at me, his expression a complicated mix of resignation and gratitude. He’s the one who finally gets up and unlocks the front and back doors.
“So, we didn’t find anything per se,” Jack says, “but Dagan scented an alpha in the nest.”
I go rigid. I’d been so excited to have my own nest. Knowing someone else was in it feels like finding out a stranger rifled through your underwear drawer. Gross.
My scent must sour, because all three alphas look at me sharply.
Bram takes my hand, his grip warm and grounding. “He didn’t find anyone, but the scent was fresh. It’s concerning. We’ll call a cleaning company and have it professionally sterilized, okay? Nothing will be left of whatever that was.”
“And the locks,” Jack adds from where he’s still eating. “We’ll get them changed today.”
I nod.
"Do you have plans today, My Girl?" Dagan signs, and Jack translates.
Learning sign language jumps to the top of my mental to-do list. But I’d rather keep that to myself for now. I don’t want him thinking I’m doing it for attention. What Victor said this morning… it still stings. And once again, there’s no proof to back me up. Just me, the scent, and silence.
“I'm covering the lunch rush at work so I have to get ready and leave in a minute.”
"Where do you work?" Dagan signs—Jack translating again.
“I work at a café that my cousin owns.” Then I hesitate before adding, “But I also write. I’m an indie author.”
Heat climbs up my neck, but Bram perks up.
“What do you write?” he asks.
“Romance.” I can’t stop the blush this time.
I love what I do. Romance matters. It gives people safe ways to explore relationships, identity, and pleasure. But you wouldn’t believe the number of pitying smiles and awkward silences I’ve gotten after saying that.
The guys aren't reacting like that, though. Bram is interested, his gaze locked on mine. Jack gives me a soft smile. And Dagan? Dagan looks at me with a deep hunger that has slick warming my thighs.
“We’ll have to look that up,” Bram says with a sly grin. “What kind of Romance is it?”
I d on’t think he means tropes, but I give them anyway. “Cozy, fun stuff. Packs finding their mates. That kind of thing.”
Dagan signs and Bram translates. “ Closed or open door? "
“Open,” I say, ducking my head and taking another bite of breakfast. I’m grown. I can handle talking about my books. But something about their eyes on me makes me squirm in my seat.
“I just ordered them all,” Bram says, pocketing the phone in his hand.
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” I say quickly. “You could just read my copies.”
“Nope. I need my own. And I’m making you sign them.”
My stomach flutters. I lower my lashes. Being asked to sign my own book always hits me in this strange little cocktail of thrill and embarrassment. Especially when I know my signature’s a sloppy mess.
“We have to go into town today,” Bram says, finishing his last bite.
“Pick up equipment. Get a P.O. Box. Stop in Suttons Bay. We’ll be back late.
Victor texted that he’s going into town.
Since his clothes are off the lawn I assume he changed.
So, he shouldn’t come back until late either. Will you be okay?”
I nod. “Just work. I’ve got an early morning shift tomorrow, so I might be asleep by the time you get back.”
He nods. The others start gathering their things. But my omega claws at the idea of being separated from our alphas so soon. An omega whine scrapes its way up my throat and I can't keep a small part of it from slipping out.
All three alphas freeze. I can feel the tension shift. They definitely heard it.
Low alpha purrs start rumbling in chests.
That sound is like the hum of engines mixed with thunder.
It's meant to soothe omegas. Bram crosses the room and folds himself around me, one arm pulling me into his body, the other curving up to palm the back of my head.
My cheek rests right where that low, vibrating purr hums through his chest. My whole body melts.
Jac k steps in too. So does Dagan. He doesn’t purr, but he rubs gentle lines up and down my spine, each one grounding me a little more.
“What’s the matter, Ghost?” Bram murmurs. He’s taken the lead here, I realize. Most dominant alphas do.
“I don’t know. I guess…” I pull in a breath. “Now that she’s scented you, my omega doesn’t really want you to go.” I pull back quickly. Try to smile like this isn’t a big deal. “But I’ll be fine.”
Bram gives me a look like he doesn’t believe that for a second. Dagan signs something, but no one translates.
“Are you sure?” Jack asks gently. “We could—”
“I’m fine,” I say again. “I’ve got a lot to do today too. Omegas! Crazy, right?” I force a laugh and turn back to my orange juice. We just met. I cannot be this clingy. Even if she is part of me, the omega feels like a separate, wild-hearted creature.
They hesitate. But after a few more reassurances, they finally head out.
My omega scrambles against the separation, stretching toward them like she might climb out of my skin. But I ignore her. She’ll get her chance.
We all will.