Page 151 of Pack Plus One

It’s normal. Comfortable. Like I’ve been part of this pack for years instead of weeks.

They’re…perfect.

“You’re quiet,” he observes, his voice low enough that only I can hear.

I shrug slightly. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Everything. Eric. The bakery. You guys.” I hesitate, then add, “Why you’ve never bonded before.”

The question slips out before I can stop it, something I’ve wondered about but never directly asked. The pack is stable, successful, clearly committed to each other. By all logic, they should have found an omega to complete their family years ago.

Caleb’s arm tightens slightly around me. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” I say, trying to sound casual. “You’re all so... good at this. At caring for each other. For me. It seems strange that no omega snapped you up long ago.”

Jude, who apparently has better hearing than I gave him credit for, abandons his channel-surfing to join the conversation. “We’re very picky,” he announces. “Extremely selective. Only the finest omega for the Le Roux pack.”

I roll my eyes at his typical deflection. “Seriously, though.”

Mason and Liam look up from their chess game, some silent communication passing between all four males.

“We’ve had opportunities,” Liam says carefully. “There have been omegas who expressed interest in joining the pack.”

“But?” I prompt when he doesn’t continue.

“But none of them wanted us,” Caleb says simply. “They wanted what we represented—stability, security, status. Not who we actually are.”

The blunt honesty of his answer takes me aback. “What do you mean?”

Mason sets down a chess piece, his expression thoughtful. “Most were attracted to the superficial aspects—Caleb’s family name, the brewery’s success, the financial security. When they discovered the reality of pack life with all of us combined...”

“They bailed,” Jude finishes when Mason trails off. “Turns out, not everyone appreciates my charming morning personality or Mason’s tendency to reorganize the kitchen at 3 AM or Liam’s diagrams for literally everything.”

“Or my... intensity,” Caleb adds quietly.

There’s something vulnerable in his admission that makes my chest ache. I’ve seen Caleb’s intensity firsthand—the laser focus, the protective instincts that sometimes border on possessive, the deep emotions he tries to keep contained. It’s overwhelming at times, even to me. I can imagine how it might have frightened away omegas looking for a more conventional alpha.

“Their loss,” I say firmly, reaching for his hand and lacing my fingers through his. “I happen to like your intensity. And Jude’s morning chaos. And Mason’s middle-of-the-night organizing. And Liam’s diagrams.”

The smile that breaks across Caleb’s face is like the sun emerging from clouds—warm and rare and beautiful. “We never found her,” he says simply. “Until now.”

The words hang in the air between us, heavy with meaning.

“Oh,” I breathe, the weight of the realization settling over me.

“Oh indeed,” Jude says, his usual playfulness softened by genuine emotion. “We’ve been waiting for you, doll. Even when we didn’t know who we were waiting for.”

Tears prick at my eyes, unexpected and unwelcome. Stupid omega hormones. “I’m not crying,” I announce preemptively. “It’s just... wallpaper glue fumes. Very toxic.”

“Of course,” Liam agrees solemnly, though his eyes are suspiciously bright.

“Completely understandable,” Mason adds. “Those chemicals can create a variety of responses.”

“Including being overcome with affection for devastatingly handsome alphas,” Jude suggests hopefully.

That startles a laugh from me, breaking the emotional tension of the moment. I swipe at my eyes with the sleeve of Caleb’s borrowed sweater. “You’re all absurd,” I say, but the words come out sounding like something else entirely.