Page 66 of Pack Choice

“I promise I’m not snoring that badly,” she says.

“Honestly, I’m fine,” I tell her. “Just really need a shower.” I squeeze her hand. “I’m sorry if I gave you and the baby a shock.”

“Oh lord, Moll, that wasn’t your fault. Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yes, I’m so tired, I’ll probably fall asleep under the shower.”

Bea laughs and gives me a sideways hug, unable to cuddle me front on anymore given the size of her stomach.

However, I’m wrong. After my shower, I lie curled up in bed, my usual collection of pillows and cuddlies arranged around me, but I can’t sleep.

My heart is still racing and I don’t think it’s from the car crash. No, it’s from everything else that happened tonight. It’s from the proximity of all three of those men.

I’m not sure I’ve felt this way about anyone before – let alone three different men. Let alone three different men who are not in the same pack.

I fidget, rearranging pillows, flinging half of them on the floor, before diving to pick them all up again. I toss and turn, stripping off my PJ shorts and tank before redressing a few minutes later.

I listen as the house falls silent and I know I’m the only one still awake.

I concentrate on my breathing like Ford had shown me in the car. I count sheep. I recite my timetables and all the lyrics of every Taylor Swift song I can remember.

In the end, I give up. I have too much swirling around my head and too much adrenaline pumping around my body to fall asleep.

It’s the early hours of the morning, still dark and, from the sound of it, raining, raindrops pattering against my window. I switch on the light and pad out of the room. A midnight snack might be in order. I continue down the hallway and the staircase, wondering whether Silver’s men are still patrolling the grounds. Whether two are stationed outside the front door.

I find the staircase and quietly descend, keeping the lights switched off. I don’t want his men thinking I’m an intruder and bursting in with their guns. The floorboards are cool on the soles of my feet and my ribs ache from the accident. The scents of those alphas seem to follow me, lingering in my nostrils. I pause at the bottom of the staircase, rubbing at my nose, and listen. Not a sound. I walk through the first floor and into the kitchen.

Water hammers against the window but a security light from the garden filters through, casting the room in a gray light. I don’t bother with the light here either. I walk straight to the fridge, noticing the way those scents seem even more pronounced.

My hand touches the door of the fridge.

“Omega.”

16

Ford

I smellthe omega before I see her. Her scent drifts in through the hallway, tantalizing as always. My eyes dart to the doorway, my ears alert, and watch as she pads through the doorway in the darkness, completely unaware I’m here. She walks towards the fridge wearing the teeniest, tiniest pair of shorts and a tight tank.

I feel like a peeping tom sitting here, staring at the way the stretchy fabric of her shorts cling to the cheeks of her ass.

A peeping Tom who will soon be discovered when she spins around and spies me here. It will give her a fright.

“Omega,” I say softly.

She jolts, her hand poised on the fridge handle and turns, peering through the dull light towards me.

“Ford?” she says. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at home? In bed … asleep. Surely Silver sent you home.”

“He did. I didn’t leave.”

“Clearly,” she says, walking towards me. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know,” I say simply.

“You don’t?” Up close, I can see the wrinkle of confusion on her brow.

“I … I wanted to make sure you were safe.”