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Two weeks into living as a pack, and it was still as amazing as the first few days.

I hated the pain West and Ember had suffered, but the selfish part of me was glad it brought us together.

It was easier to believe they wouldn’t decide I was too moody the longer we lived together. And seeing West’s own mood swings helped me remember it was okay.

It was silly. But I was so used to being a disappointment it was hard to believe my luck.

I came back to the house to find Ember setting her laptop bag down on the countertop. Evidence of her was everywhere, in her lemon pound cake scent, in her socks that we found literally everywhere, somehow never with its mate, and in listening to her voice throughout the house.

“Hey.” She beamed at me. “It’s just the two of us?”

“Ben had to stay back,” I said. “He’ll get an Uber. I offered to stay…”

“But he’s stubborn.” Ember picked up her phone. “West is still at the office. He has stuff to catch up on. I’ll tell him to pick Ben up.”

“Good plan.” I grinned. “Alejandro said he was working late too.”

My stomach twisted at the thought of the other alpha. I ached to have his teeth in my neck, but I didn’t want Ember or West to feel rushed. I could be patient.

“Hungry?” I followed Ember into the kitchen. “I think our alpha left us some leftovers.”

“Starved. Don’t tattle on me, but I forget to eat lunch.”

“You’ll have to owe me one.” I tsked and headed for the fridge. There was indeed a lot of leftovers. Alejandro apparently had fears that we would wither away to nothing.

I wasn’t sure I could share another alpha. But Alejandro made it easy.

Ember hummed along to a song we had playing low and I was fiercely glad all of a sudden that she loved music. It made it easier, somehow, despite my own struggles.

The other day in the studio, I’d played around on my guitar before Kinsey showed up. I’d tried to write my own song for the millionth time, a catchy tune stuck in my head, but every time I tried to get it past basic idea stage, I froze.

What if the song was too upbeat? What if it was too dark? Too lyrical? Indecision froze me. Ben would tell me to write what I wanted to write, but I wasn’t sure what that was anymore.

What could I possibly do to follow up my last album? I’d listened to three times, which was more than I had in years. Ember’s fault, since she had most of my songs in all of her playlists.

The playlist switched over, and it was one of mine, a B-side lullaby style song I’d written in a fit of whimsy at the studio with Ben one night when we’d stayed late. It was a silly song about a man falling in love with the moon and coming back as a bird so he could sing his love to her again.

Ember sang along, making us some sandwiches, and her husky voice made the song sweeter.

I pushed some of her flame-colored hair off her shoulder, thinking maybe I should write a follow-up about a morning bird falling in love with the dawn.

She smiled. “I love this one. It’s so sweet.”

“It’s silly,” I said. “Ben made me include it.”

“It’s perfect. Classic ballad style.” She looked surprised. “What gave you the idea for it?”

I rubbed small circles on her back, loving these small moments with my packmates. “It was just a random bit of lyric that popped into my head. The bit about ‘the night is kind, but it plays me unfair. Bringing you close but leaving me here.’”

“It’s brilliant.” She beamed, like I was some sort of genius.

“Didn’t feel brilliant at the time.” I laughed. It was easier to talk about now. I’d written the song so long ago, and though it was one of my favorites, I didn’t have a deep intense connection to it the way I did “Roses and Ruins.” “It was just a fun little bit of music.”

She eyed me. “And music doesn’t feel like that anymore?”

“No.” I sighed. “I worry that what I’m writing it too dark, or too poppy, or it doesn’t sound right.”

I couldn’t look at her face. I couldn’t handle it if she looked hopeful or excited. My omega instincts wanted me to show off, to preen for her, but that made the pressure to perform worse. In the end, I would just disappoint her too. “I’ve had a half of a song stuck in my head for months, but every time I try to flesh it out…” I shrugged. “I overthink it? I guess? But I don’t know how not to do that.”