Page 74 of Pack Me Up

The pack is whole. The nest is full. The last piece clicks into place, and I know, without question, that I belong here with them.

Brittney

OMEGA BUZZ GOSSIP COLUMN

BRITTNEY RYAN SEEN OUT FOR FIRST TIME IN DAYS

May 2nd

Iwalk through the cafe with Fox and Saint on either side of me.

Luckily, Tommy arrived first, and I see him sitting at a table in the corner with two coffees in front of him.

“Where are you going to sit?” I ask, feeling Fox and Saint’s nerves through the bond.

I know it’s hard to separate after bonding, but we’re going to have to soon. At least they’re still in the same room, even if their protective instincts want them right next to me. My omega has calmed down and settled into the bond with all the love I’ve been getting since the end of my mini heat.

“We are going to join Tommy’s security near the door. Let us know if you need anything,” Saint tells me while Fox presses a kiss to the top of my head.

I nod and leave them behind as I join Tommy.

The security teams arrange themselves at opposite ends of the café, staking out vantage points but doing their best not to be obvious. Fox and Saint take a table near the window, backs to the wall, their heads angled toward each other but never notscanning the room. They look like they’re ready to jump into action at a moment’s notice.

Maybe insisting on a public place was too much, too fast, but I feel so safe after bonding with them, and we had to leave the house for this final rehearsal anyway. The rehearsal space at the recording studio is set up to mimic the stage.

Saint’s already pulled out his phone, thumb scrolling through what is probably a full analysis of every venue we will be playing at. Fox, on the other hand, is engaged in animated conversation with the tattooed security guy on Tommy’s team, gesturing in wide, happy arcs as if they’re old friends.

Tommy blows a stray bang off his forehead. His scent is covered with descenter. I’ve missed him.

He grins, all teeth. “You look like you got hit by a really good bus.”

I snort. “Is it that obvious?”

He leans in, elbows on the table, eyes darting to my wrists where the bond marks are still red and barely scabbed. “You bonded them. Was it perfect?”

My cheeks burn, but I can’t stop smiling. “It was a blur, honestly. They were all there. All at once. It was…a lot.”

“Tell me everything,” Tommy hisses, eyes wide and hungry. “Start at the part where they line up and decide who gets to fuck you first, because I need to know if my mental bracket was correct.”

I laugh into my drink, which is the only thing keeping me from shrieking in public. “It wasn’t like that.”

He snaps his fingers. “Damn.”

I lower my voice, dropping into the hush only Tommy and I share. “It wasn’t just sex. It was…the real thing. I didn’t think I’d ever get it, not after—” I gesture vaguely, not wanting to name my parents in the middle of a bakery.

He covers my hand with his. “You deserve it, Britt. Every single knot, every single bite. You earned that shit.” His gaze flicks to my neck, where the bond marks from Hunter and Saint are still swollen and tender. “That’s a good one,” he says, approvingly. “Are they still sore?”

“Like crazy.” I gently probe the mark, feeling a little raw, but it’s a good kind of raw. “It’s not just physical, either. Everything’s different. I woke up this morning and…I don’t know, I just felt whole.”

Tommy sighs. “I’m not going to lie, I’m jealous.”

I sip my matcha, letting the heat bleed through my hands. “What about you?” I ask. “Are you still talking to that alpha?”

Tommy’s smile fades, just a shade, and he looks down into his cup. “I ended things with Dave,” he says, voice suddenly small. “He was hot, but…” He glances at his security, then back at me. “Turns out he was using me to get closer to the Hart Pack. Like, he’d literally bring them up during sex. I mean, who the fuck does that?”

“Assholes,” I offer. “Assholes do that.”

Tommy shrugs, a sharp little twitch of his shoulder. “It’s fine. I’m back on the market. If you know any hot, emotionally available alphas who aren’t terrified of my bodyguards, send them my way.” He jerks a thumb at the man-bun guy, who’s watching us like a hawk. “Seriously, I can’t even flirt with the barista without one of these dudes getting between us. It’s cock-blocking on a professional level.”