Skye
Good goddess above, someone get me a drink because this pack is the finest group of men I’ve ever seen in my life. I am absolutely going to stick my foot so far down my throat with them that I should just get used to deep throating my toes.
I can see it now, my brain malfunctioning at the first pet name and blurting out ‘look, I’m sure you’re lovely and all, but could you please take me home so I can escape into the wild and live as a cryptid in the woods, thanks.’
Sure, they are handsome, but they are Alphas, and just like any other, I’d be in a generic nest, and they’d be waiting to knock me up on my heat like any other. A little tough given the military-grade IUD I had put in years ago, but that will need to be replaced at some point.
Beside me sits Atlas—the titan of a wolf shifter—I snort and note how uncomfortable he looks crammed in the corner, his thick thighs lifting the table when he shifts.
Fury is on my other side, his arm wrapped over the back of my shoulder and tucking me into his side.
Collar unbuttoned, the band of ink around his throat is visible, as well as the tentacles over either side.
Amusement is clear on his face as I tear my gaze from his face to stare at each pack mate in turn, biting my lip and slamming my eyes shut as just a hint of my perfume starts up.
Fury looks like some lazy god of the underworld, half his midnight hair in a ponytail and the other half hanging below his shoulders, his deep purple-red suit well fitted to all that tight, lithe muscle.
Across from Atlas in the opposite corner is the most magazine-worthy model of a man that I’ve ever seen in my life.
His skin is a flawless light brown, and my mouth runs dry as he stares back at me with the brightest golden eyes that I’ve ever seen.
The rough scent of the ocean flows from him, briny and tinged with an unhappy copper tone that betrays the carefully neutral expression.
There’s an undertone of the wild shifter that makes my hackles rise, and my wolf sits up, though we both know that he isn’t one of us, and I’ve only met one other person before who had the same sort of flavor.
Feline energy pours from him, not just in scent, but in that still, patient hunter kind of way that makes me not want to look away.
I want to lick him.
Mister Ocean Breeze does not look like the kind of man who would appreciate being licked, and I respectfully keep my tongue in my mouth.
A chorus of groans echoes around the table as the pheromones around us thicken, and I try to shuffle my dress to cover the slit in the sides, dropping my head to break that piercing auric stare.
“All the lovely gents around the table, and you perfume for our moodiest.” The other man mountain directly across from me laughs—a human this time, though I bet he matches the big wolf pound for pound.
If I wanted beefcake, I’d be eating well with this pack, “Since our illustrious leader seems to have lost his manners in front of a pretty Omega…”
With a bark of laughter from Fury, he squeezes my shoulder as said beefcake number two reaches to gently take my hand and brush his lips across my knuckles.
He's got a much softer face than Atlas, and he’s not as obviously muscular, but he's got the thick, strong build of someone who could definitely toss me about.
With the same blond shade as Atlas, his is less styled and looks more like he's freshly out of bed, ruffled and with one strand that falls over his lovely green eyes.
Remembering myself a little, I try to find my hand, lost in the embrace of his, and just blink.
“Where the fuck did they grow you two?” There’s a shocked cough as I try to cover my outburst, but Beefcake only grins at me.
“Grumpy here is Lucas, resident surgeon and smart ass if you can get him to do more than scowl,” He gestures to the man beside him, who just rolls his eyes and hisses, “I’m Clay, Clay Moore, climbing instructor and rope enthusiast, but I go by Amberwood for obvious reasons.”
My own smile tugs, “Clay Moore?”
He sighs heavily, and Atlas chuckles, bright and cheery, breaking a little more of the tension around the pack. Clay rubs his neck awkwardly before answering, “Yeah, Mama had a great sense of humor and a love for historical Scottish romances.”
The last man, a Beta, slides his hand around Clay’s waist, “She wishes she had a big two-hander to wield, but she had to settle for her dirty books.” He snorts, and Clay turns to the smaller man, tugging on the thick brown wolf cut, his eyes soft as he leans in to kiss him.
Oh. My new boyfriends are boyfriends. Not boyfriends, I convince myself, despite how delicious they are, and relaxed, nobody has pressed me yet about how well I cook and clean, or how many kids I want, they’re just…
Regular guys who want an Omega for their pack and are taking the option that fate has provided them.
Uh-huh, keep believing that, sweetheart.
“You leave Mama Moore out of your nasty thoughts; she’s an angel!”
“She raised you, she must have been,” Fury chips in, resting his head back on the cushion as he gestures with his free hand to the other, “Last man standing is Theodore Amberwood. He’s the one who’s kept all of us clowns together over the years, cooks like a champ, and shouts at Atlas for leaving his dirty socks in the bathroom.
You’ve already met me and Atlas, and it's good to see you again, Firecracker.”
“Now what did we say about pet names last time we met?” I raise an eyebrow challengingly, but it only makes his smile split his cheeks, pearly white teeth on full display with those big Alpha canines that make me shiver deliciously.
“I’d like to see you try, Firecracker.” He repeats, slower this time, his deep rumble sending a shiver through my marrow.
It’s almost unreal how easily all of them interact.
I don’t have any family packs to base the interactions from; my dad always said that Omegas shouldn’t be shared with packs, and it is wrong when a single Alpha does the job.
I wonder if this is what Mama missed out on, having them banter playfully back and forth.
There’s also a lot more touching than I expected.
My dad is the only real Alpha experience aside from those I’ve met through the auction system, and he is very clear that Alphas only touch other Alphas if they want to start a fight.
Maybe I really am just naive to how designations work, because the more I notice how Fury bumps Atlas with his fingers, or Atlas shifts and rests his leg against Lucas, the more I start to notice the packs at other tables doing the same.
The Beta seems a little uncomfortable on the outside, and I end up staring at him whilst he chats to Clay.
He’s definitely the oldest of them, I can see that much.
Only in his late thirties, early forties maybe, but his face has the wear and tear of someone who has lived all of that outside.
His dark, hickory brown hair is shaggy and chopped past his chin, and his heavy-lidded eyes with those thick lashes are a bright hazel—not quite the golden of Lucas, but much warmer and inviting.
Sharp creases line the edges, crinkling more on one side with his lopsided smile as he reaches to steal my hand from Clay, still holding it over the table.
Coffee hits my nose like a sledgehammer, far stronger than a Beta should, and I know that he’s just as much my scent match as the rest. It’s not what I’m expecting at all.
“You’re human and a Beta, right? What do you do in the pack?
” Yep, foot immediately in throat, and I panic as I watch his smile collapse like a fragile house of cards, his entire body shrinking and ducking behind Clay a little.
“No, I’m sorry, I just… Your scent, and I…”
It is Lucas rising to his feet that pulls my attention, gripping my hand to pull it away from Theodore. Claws like knives prick and draw blood, curving into my skin as a whine blocks my throat.
“Luc,” Fury warns, a deep growl building in his chest. Tension thrums through him even in his relaxed slouch.
“No, I knew this would happen. This is exactly what I was worried about, a stuck-up fucking Omega who only wants…”
“LUCAS.” In that roar, I feel the cataclysmic weight of an Alpha bark that betrayed how much power the Cardinal has here.
Collectively as a pack, they all bow in their seats, heads dropping and bodies simmering with the control he’s exerting on them.
Some of the guards have turned to us now, making their way over with frowns, trying to be subtle about the concern.
I’m not even part of this pack, nor is the bark directed at me, but I can feel the crushing weight in my chest, feel it stripping the pleasantries of meeting them, and the small talk so far.
Heavy and suffocating, it demands my submission, and I know without a doubt that this Cardinal flexing his weight could have me rolling belly up, saying ‘yes, sir, no sir,’ with minimal effort.
Fury takes a deep breath, and the fog lifts and clears.
He seems almost horrified by his outburst, “I’m so sorry, I’ve never barked like that before.
Lucas, let’s not be rude to our guest.” He turns to me, wary-eyed as he searches for something in my own gaze, and this close, I can see the tumultuous concern for what he’s about to say.
“You don’t mind that, do you, Skye? That Teddy isn’t a fancy shifter, or an Alpha? ”
“Mind? Why would I mind? You all introduced yourselves and your jobs, or I’ve seen you at them, so I am interested in what he does.
” Clambering over Fury’s lap, I think he grunts as my knee grinds a little close to sensitive areas, and I move around the table to stand next to Theodore—Teddy.
With a mischievous huff, I plop myself right down in his lap, “In all honesty, he’s more my type than Beefcake one and two over there, and the grumpy one in the corner.
You?” I eye up Fury with a smirk, “Eh, I think everyone had an emo phase, don’t think I can’t see all the piercing holes in your face. ”
Shock passes around the table until Fury breaks it with a hacking laugh, “You don’t even know the half of it.”
Shrugging, I continue, “Teddy’s pretty and smells like a fresh cappuccino, hand-brewed; he’s practically my dream man.” I tilt myself to look into his warm eyes, a pleased look taking over the worry, “Do you want me to move? I’m hardly light.”
Before I can even finish, he's wrapped one arm around my waist, fingers digging in, and the other curves around my thigh, “You’re good, sugar.” There’s a hardness that demonstrates exactly how good I am here, though neither of us is impolite enough to mention it.
And just like that, the entire pack breathes out.
Even Lucas stops, searching me as much as Fury just had, as if he’s waiting for me to jump and shout that I'm just kidding. Our drinks arrive not long after that, and I find myself sinking into his lap, wrapping my own arm around his neck, and letting him offer me the straw to his fruity cocktail. I still don’t understand what the big deal is.
As long as he is part of the pack, he’s part of my freedom plan.
Still, it bothers me. Did Teddy being a Beta really pose a problem?
I couldn’t think of a world where having an extra-pretty man attending to me is a negative, not to mention the positives of someone who wouldn’t lose their mind to a rut, and can keep going like a rabbit since they don’t have a pesky knot.
Maybe they wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe they’d be a good, fair pack, the little Omega voice in me calls, echoed by the wolf's agreeable bark. Traitors.
The auction fades around us as we settle comfortably, playing drinking games with the small sips of alcohol that they’ve ordered.
Clay takes my feet up into his lap so I’m sitting across them both, fingers pressing into my calves and noting my lack of footwear with a confused grumble.
Atlas plays with the lapels of his jacket, offering me shy smiles when I catch him staring like he’s already half in love.
The only discomfort is the lean Alpha in the corner, his scowl etched into his finely carved face, watching me the whole time.
Maybe it’s a little childish of me when I wait for everyone else to be buried in conversation before I stick my tongue out at him.
Maybe he needs a little childish fun to loosen the stick in his ass.
Maybe I should stop planning for the future with them when I’m only going to leave.