Page 27 of Pack Plus One

Caleb’s grin returns, slow and dangerous, and it does something to me. Something low in my stomach I really shouldn’t pay attention to. “I’ll pencil it into my calendar. ‘Tomorrow, 10 PM: Almost mark Leah again.’”

Despite everything, I laugh, even though my pulse is thrumming in my ears. “You’re impossible.”

“I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘charming,’” he counters, his voice dropping just enough to make it feel like a caress.

“Delusional,” I shoot back, but my voice sounds too breathless, and I can’t keep the smile from my face.

Before I can recover, Jude leans in closer on my other side, his freckled nose crinkling in mock indignation. His hand brushes mine, skin against skin, and a ridiculous jolt of heat shoots through me. “Charming? Delusional? I’m sitting right here, you know. If we’re doing adjectives, I’m at least ‘devastatingly handsome.’”

“Devastatingly something,” I mutter, trying to sound unaffected, but my heart is racing. Jude is close enough that I can feel the faint heat of him, the teasing edge in his grin doing things to me it absolutely shouldn’t.

“Hey now,” Liam chimes in, his voice calm and velvety as he slides a fresh flute of champagne toward me. His fingers grazemine in the process, the touch sending a shiver up my spine. “Give Jude some credit. He’s doing his best to be tolerable tonight.”

Jude gasps in mock outrage, his knee pressing against mine as he shifts closer. “Tolerable?Tolerable? You wound me, brother.”

“You’ll recover,” Liam says, though his lips curl in a way that makes me think he enjoys teasing Jude as much as I do.

The banter should calm me, but instead, it’s making my skin feel too tight, too aware of every small touch, every brush of warmth. I’m buzzing, heat pooling low in my belly, and I have no idea why.

This is ridiculous.

But then Caleb’s hand presses lightly against the small of my back, his thumb moving in a slow, absent-minded arc, and I realize I’m not imagining it. My body isn’t just reacting—I’m responding.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Eric’s glances continue from across the room. At some point, I stop trying to track them. Every time I look in his direction, he’s watching us—watchingme—and every time, his expression darkens a little more.

The pack seems to notice too, though they don’t comment on it anymore. Instead, they close ranks like it’s instinct, their touches becoming less guarded, more natural.

Jude drapes his arm along the back of my chair, his fingers brushing the bare skin of my shoulder. His touch lingers, warm and surprisingly gentle, and the light pressure sends a spark of heat racing through me.

“You’re lucky we’re here, you know,” he says, leaning in so close that his breath skims the shell of my ear. “This wedding would besoboring without us.”

“Lucky,” I repeat, my voice catching on the word. “That’s definitely the word I’d use.” My pulse is pounding now, my skin prickling under his touch.

Liam chuckles softly, his golden hair catching the light as he shifts closer. “He’s not wrong. You’d be stuck with stale cake and awkward small talk if we weren’t here.”

“Don’t forget the bad music,” Mason adds from across the table. His voice is quiet but sharp, cutting through the haze clouding my mind. “If I have to hear one more off-key love song, I might start growling. Fair warning.” He’s been watching me like a hawk all night, and there’s something in his gaze that feels... knowing. He’s a beta with alpha energy. He hasn’t said much but those eyes…fuck. Definite alpha energy.

I laugh, the sound shaky as I try to push back against this raging hormonal andhornybitch that’s trying to claw her way out from my chest. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Mason’s lips twitch, just barely, and something about the way he looks at me makes my stomach flip.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your night.”

“Ruin it?” Jude interjects, his fingers tracing lazy circles over my shoulder. The motion is slow and absolutely maddening. “Please. We’re the highlight of this whole event. Look at us—charm, wit, devastating good looks...”

“Again with ‘devastating,’” I mutter, trying to focus on the conversation instead of the way my body is practically humming.

Jude’s smirk deepens, his freckled face way too close to mine. “What can I say? I’m consistent.”

By the time the DJ announces the last dance, I’m wound so tight I might snap. The weight of the pack’s attention, the lingering heat of Caleb’s almost-mark, the way the entire room seems to be watching us—it’s too much.

“We should go,” I mutter, twisting my clutch in my hands.

Jude pouts. “But I haven’t gotten my dance yet.”

“Jude.” Liam’s voice is a warning.