Chapter 1 #2
From there, we wander through the small primates. I press my face to the glass watching tiny lemurs leap from branch to branch. We stand in the aviary (yes, the same one) while Drake makes vague apologies to the birds for his past crimes.
At each enclosure, I find myself watching them as much as the animals.
Drake makes a big show of roaring at the lions later, but when a little omega child gets scared near us, he immediately drops down to his knees and pretends to be a "Nice Lion" who only eats veggies. The kid stops crying.
Eli reads every plaque, then condenses the information into a softer, more interesting version just for me. "They mate for life. They share food. They maintain their territory together."
Ragon is always half-turned toward the crowd, attention split between the exhibits and the people around us, as if trouble might appear at any second.
But every time I reach for him—just a touch to his wrist, a brush of my fingers along his forearm—his gaze snaps to me first, scent easing immediately.
He's hyper-vigilant, but never too distracted for me.
That matters.
By midday, the sun is high and hot. The scents in the air are even thicker—sweat, sunscreen, sugary drinks, animal musk. My head feels a little foggy from it all, instincts edging toward overwhelmed.
Drake notices first. He always does.
"Hey." He tugs me in against his side. "You need a break, sweetheart?"
I hesitate, about to say no, I'm fine, I don't want to ruin anything. But Eli's gaze flicks up from the map he's folding, catches the little stiffness in my shoulders, the way I'm holding my breath. Ragon's scent sharpens too, protective.
"Yes," Eli answers for me. "She does."
Ragon nods once, decisive. "Food and shade."
He leads the way toward the main café. Inside, it's cooler, the air-conditioning humming, smells more contained. The food isn't anything special—burgers, fries, salad in plastic bowls—but it's quiet enough that my instincts settle again.
We find a booth in the corner, Ragon taking the outside seat, me tucked safely between him and Eli. Drake sits across from us, spreading ketchup packets across the table like playing cards.
"Here." Eli pushes one of the water bottles toward me. "Drink."
"Yes, doctor," Drake says, mimicking my tone from earlier. "Hydrate the omega. It's the law."
"Not the law. Common sense."
Drake leans toward me conspiratorially. "The law of Eli."
Ragon clears his throat, eyes narrowing just enough to make Drake sit back and pretend to behave. But his scent is amused.
I take a long drink, feeling it wash away the dryness in my throat. Eli steals one of my fries. When I raise a brow at him, he actually looks sheepish.
"You weren't eating them."
"I was getting to them."
Drake nudges my foot under the table. "You should eat the fries before they mutiny."
"This is a deeply unsafe environment."
"This is a pack environment," Ragon corrects, his knee bumping mine. His voice goes a shade softer. "Means we take care of each other."
My chest squeezes in that sharp-sweet way that feels almost like pain. I focus on my food to hide it, my mind skirting the edges of that five-year mark again.
After lunch, Eli taps our schedule with a fingertip. "We've done flamingos, small primates, aviary, lions, the seal pool, and lunch. Next on the agenda—"
"Bookstore," Drake declares.
My heart does a little skip. "There's a bookstore?"
Drake gasps like I've just said I don't believe in gravity. "Have I failed you so wholly as a mate-adjacent figure?"
"You are not a mate," Ragon says automatically.
"Not yet. Have a little faith, sir."
Heat creeps up my neck at the reminder. Not a mate. Not bonded. Not officially anything, on paper.
Not yet.
Five years, the traitorous part of my brain whispers. One more month.
Eli sees it. I can tell by the way his expression softens, the way his scent warms like honey. "You'll like the bookstore. It's small, but it has nesting journals. And the soft-backed editions you like."
"Soft-backed editions," Drake repeats. "Truly, your ability to make everything sound like a research paper is unparalleled."
We pay and step back into the heat.
By the time we leave the zoo gates, the crowds are thicker. A cluster of alphas near the exit gate laughs too loudly, smelling like cheap beer and bravado. One of them glances over when he catches my scent, eyes tracking me a second longer than is polite.
Ragon steps forward in that effortless way of his, broad shoulders blocking me from the stranger's view. Drake squeezes my hand. Eli shifts closer on my other side.
The alpha looks away almost immediately.
My muscles unclench without me even realizing they'd gone tight.
The bookstore sits just outside the zoo complex, tucked between a coffee shop and a toy store. A little brass bell rings when we step inside. The air is cooler, still carrying the faint scents of paper, ink, a bit of dust, and something sweet from the café next door.
This is my kind of heaven.
Drake immediately veers toward the humor section. Eli gravitates toward science and nature. Ragon stands near the entrance, arms crossed, watching the street through the window like he's expecting trouble but hoping he's wrong.
I wander toward the fiction shelves, fingers trailing along spines.
Romance. Always romance. The kind with happy endings, with fated mates and pack bonds and omegas who get chosen and kept and loved. The kind that makes my chest ache because it feels so close to what I have but not quite the same.
Not quite permanent.
I pull a book off the shelf—something about a rejected omega finding her true pack—and flip it open to a random page.
"You were always meant to be ours," the alpha said, his hand cupping her face. "From the moment I scented you, I knew."
My throat tightens.
I close the book and put it back.
"Find something good?" Eli appears at my elbow, two books already tucked under his arm.
"Just browsing."
His gaze flicks to the book I just shelved, then back to my face. He doesn't say anything, but his scent softens—understanding, gentle.
He knows.
He always knows.
"Come on," he says quietly, taking my hand. "Let's see what Drake's found. I guarantee it's either completely unhinged or surprisingly thoughtful. No in-between."
I let him tug me away from the romance section, away from the fantasies I shouldn't let myself want too much.
Drake has, predictably, found a book called Alphas Behaving Badly: A History of Pack Disasters and is reading passages out loud to Ragon, who looks like he's reconsidering every life choice that led to this moment.
"Listen to this one," Drake says, grinning. "'The pack attempted to celebrate their omega's heat by releasing doves indoors. The doves were not properly trained. Chaos ensued.'"
"That's not real," Ragon says.
"It's in the book. The book doesn't lie."
"The book is clearly fiction."
"You're just scared we'll try it."
"If you release doves in my house—"
"Our house," Drake corrects, then winks at me.
Eli sighs. "We're not releasing doves."
"Not with that attitude," Drake mutters.
I laugh despite everything, the sound surprising me. The tightness in my chest eases a fraction.
This. This is what I have. This is real.
Even if it's not permanent yet.
Even if the five-year mark is coming and I don't know what it means.
Even if the thought of them finding a scent match someday makes me want to claw my own heart out.
This is real.
For now, it's enough.
It has to be.
We leave the bookstore with a bag full of novels (mine), scientific journals (Eli's), and one deeply unserious comedy book (Drake's). Ragon didn't buy anything, but I catch him eyeing a woodworking manual on the way out. He'll go back for it later. He always does.
The drive home is quiet, comfortable. I'm wedged in the back seat between Eli and Drake, my head tipped against Eli's shoulder, Drake's hand warm on my knee. Ragon drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console, relaxed.
The sun is setting by the time we pull into the driveway. Golden light spills across the lawn, catches in the trees, makes everything look softer.
Inside, the house smells like us. Like home.
Drake immediately flops onto the couch and declares he's "dead from fun." Eli rolls his eyes and heads to the kitchen to make tea. Ragon disappears down the hall to change.
I stand in the living room for a moment, bookstore bag in hand, and let myself feel it.
The weight of being home. The safety of these walls. The knowledge that I fit here, even if it's not official.
Even if I'm still waiting.
One more month, I think.
And then we'll see.