Page 94 of Pack Choice

“I got you something,” I say, reaching into the pocket of my pants and pulling out a thin gold chain.

“You didn’t have to,” she says, looking slightly bemused.

I rest the pendant on my palm and hold it up to her, letting the small four-leafed clover catch the moonlight.

“For luck,” I tell her.

“You think I need luck?”

“Everyone needs luck.”

“Even world champions like you?”

I smile, hooking the necklace over her head and arranging the charm against her chest.

“Even world champions.” I reach inside the collar of my shirt and pull out my own four-leafed charm. “It’s always worked for me.” I look at her. “Little one, sometimes you seem sad. Are you sad?”

She grimaces. “Sometimes … my mom died.”

“I heard. How long ago?”

“Almost half a year.”

“You miss her?”

“All the time.”

“What happened?”

“She was sick for a long time. None of the doctors could work out what was wrong. We just had to watch her deteriorate before our eyes, wither away, and there was nothing we could do.”

“You were with her though?”

“Yes, as much as I could be.”

“So there was plenty you did.”

She smiles and fingers the charm, drawing my eyes to the fullness of her tits.

“How about you?” she asks.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Are you ever sad?”

I inhale and exhale. “Sometimes. That’s normal, isn’t it?”

“Are you ever lonely?”

“Are you going to tell me, I should be in a pack?” I say with a raised eyebrow. I’ve heard this a million times. Especially from omegas.

“Why don’t you want one?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t everything?”

“Yeah,” I say, gaze mesmerized by the way she plays with that charm. Maybe it’s the way it hypnotizes me but I end up telling her the truth. Part of it, anyway. “I didn’t want a pack for a long time. I wanted to …” I grin. “Sow my wild oats. Same as Colt. But I always thought we’d end up in a pack together eventually. Once we were ready to settle down. Then things changed with him. He said he didn’t want it anymore. And … and I guess I’ve been living this way a long time. People make assumptions about me, think they know me. Plus it’s hard to find people who are genuine. Who genuinely like me and not the ...” I shake my head. “It’s hard to explain.”