Page 15 of Pack Plus One (Sweetwater City Reverse Harem Omegaverse #1)

LEAH

I wake to the scent of dark chocolate and rain-soaked pages clinging to the sheets.

Oh no.

Not my bed. Not my sheets. And definitely not my shirt—this oversized cotton is all wrong, smelling faintly of sandalwood and something crisp. Mason’s .

The memories hit like a freight train.

The wedding. The pack. Four pairs of hands on my skin .

Oh my God. Oh my actual God.

I bolt upright so fast my head spins, clutching the sheet to my chest as if someone might be watching.

The room is mercifully empty, but evidence of last night’s activities is everywhere.

My dress lies discarded near the footboard.

One strappy heel peeks out from under the bed.

The other is...God, I don’t even want to know.

Jude’s belt is looped through the headboard slats. When did that happen?

I press my palms against my burning cheeks, mortification flooding every cell in my body. What was I thinking? I’ve known these men for exactly two days, and I?—

You let them touch you everywhere. You begged for it. You came four times while they watched .

My thighs clench at the memory, and I hate myself a little for the way my body reacts despite my brain’s panic alarm blaring at maximum volume.

This isn’t me. I don’t do one-night stands.

I definitely don’t do one-night stands with four alphas.

I mean, three alphas and a beta, but the details don’t matter.

I’m the sensible omega who runs a bakery and has a sourdough starter named after her childhood pet cat.

I’m thirty-minute documentaries and early bedtimes, and practical shoes.

Except, clearly, I’m not. Because practical-shoes Leah wouldn’t have fake-dated a pack to spite her ex. And she certainly wouldn’t have ended up naked in their bed.

Focus. I need to focus.

Oh my God, Zoe is going to have a field day with this.

Operation GTFO commences in 3...2...

I scan the room for my underwear. No luck. Great. Perfect. The universe really wants to ensure my walk of shame is as complete as possible.

I slide from the bed, wincing slightly at the delicious soreness between my thighs, and adjust Mason’s shirt. It falls to mid-thigh—decent enough to make my escape. I grab one shoe, shoving my foot into it while hopping toward the door, the rest of my belongings clutched to my chest.

The door creaks when I open it.

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

Caleb sleeps like a fallen sentry outside my room, bare-chested, one arm slung over his eyes. Morning light streams through a nearby window, catching the stubborn set of his jaw. Even asleep, he looks ready to fight someone.

Why is he sleeping outside the door? Was he afraid I’d run? Or—more likely—that I’d rob the place? Nobody normal sleeps on the floor outside a bedroom door. No matter how good the sex was.

No. Don’t think about the sex. Thinking about the sex leads to remembering the sex, which leads to imagining more sex, which is the opposite of leaving.

I hold my breath and lift one leg carefully over his outstretched form.

Step one: Don’t wake the alpha.

Step two: Don’t trip over his stupidly perfect abs.

Step three:—

“Leaving so soon, doll?”

I nearly jump out of my skin, clutching my dress to my chest like a shield. Jude lounges against the hallway wall, tousled strawberry-blond hair catching the light, wearing nothing but low-slung pajama pants. His citrus-and-woodsmoke scent wraps around me before I can dodge it.

Seriously, what is wrong with this pack? Do none of them sleep in actual beds?

“I—” My voice cracks embarrassingly. “I have a bakery to open.”

Liam appears like a blond specter at Jude’s shoulder, his rain-and-old-books scent deceptively calm. Unlike the others, he’s at least wearing a T-shirt with his sweatpants. “It’s Sunday…and I thought your bakery wasn’t officially open yet.”

Drat.

Mason materializes behind them, black hair damp from a shower, a towel slung around his neck. “Also, you’re wearing one shoe.”

Heat floods my face. I look down at my mismatched feet—one bare, one strapped into a silver heel that suddenly seems ludicrously formal.

I must look like a disaster. Hair tangled from sleep (and other activities), wearing nothing but a borrowed shirt and one shoe, clutching a wrinkled dress, reeking of sex and four different scents.

This is a new low. Even for me.

Caleb stirs at my feet, his dark chocolate thickening the air as he blinks up at me. When our eyes meet, memories flash unbidden—his teeth on my neck, his hands pinning my wrists, his voice rough as he?—

Nope. Not going there.

The weight of their collective attention is suffocating. Four pairs of eyes track my every movement. Four scents intertwine around me, making it hard to think straight.

“I need air,” I blurt, taking a stumbling step backward. “I-I need to go.”

Jude catches my wrist as I dart past, his grip gentle but firm enough that I can’t just dislodge his hold. His thumb brushes my racing pulse. “We’ll drive you.”

“No. I don’t live far from here. I’ll walk.” The word comes out too sharp. I soften it with a forced smile. “I need?—”

To not be trapped in a car with four men who saw me come apart last night.

To process the fact that I slept with not one, not two, but FOUR packmates after knowing them for less than 48 hours.

To deal with the terrifying reality that I enjoyed every second of it and might be developing feelings for all of them.

“—some space,” I finish lamely.

Caleb rises in one fluid motion, his bare chest blocking my escape route. “Then I’ll walk you.”

It’s not a request.

“You don’t have to?—”

“I insist.” His voice is rough with sleep, and something in my traitorous chest flutters at the sound.

“We all will,” Jude adds cheerfully, as if the prospect of escorting a disheveled one-night stand home is the highlight of his Sunday plans.

“No!” I say, too loudly. They all look startled, and I lower my voice. “I mean, that’s really not necessary. I can call a car.”

Mason steps forward, his expression unreadable. “At least stay for breakfast. Liam makes excellent pancakes.”

As if on cue, the scent of coffee and something cinnamon wafts up the stairs. My stomach growls traitorously.

“I really should?—”

“Please,” Liam says, his voice soft but with an undercurrent of something that makes my pulse quicken. “Just breakfast.”

I should say no. I should insist on leaving immediately. I should not, under any circumstances, prolong this mortifying morning after.

But Liam’s eyes are earnest, and Jude’s grin is infectious, and Mason’s quiet presence is oddly comforting, and Caleb...

Caleb looks at me like he might die if I walk out that door.

“Fine,” I surrender, dropping my gaze to the floor. “Just breakfast.”

“Excellent choice,” Jude beams, releasing my wrist only to sling an arm around my shoulders. “You might want to lose the formal footwear, though.”

I kick off my remaining heel with as much dignity as I can muster—which is approximately none—and allow myself to be herded downstairs.

The kitchen is warm and surprisingly homey for four bachelor alphas. Sunlight streams through large windows, illuminating a space that’s both modern and lived-in. A stack of pancakes sits on the island, alongside fresh fruit, syrup, and what appears to be homemade preserves.

“You did all this?” I ask, genuinely impressed.

Liam shrugs modestly. “I was up early.”

“He stress-bakes,” Jude explains, grabbing a plate. “Or in this case, stress-breakfast-makes.”

“I don’t stress-bake,” Liam protests.

“You made soufflés the night before we launched Le Roux,” Mason points out, pulling out a chair for me at the table.

“And those weird little custard things before our investor meeting,” Jude adds, already piling his plate high.

“Pastéis de nata,” Liam corrects with a sigh. “And it’s not stress-baking. It’s... productive contemplation.”

Despite my discomfort, I find myself smiling. There’s something endearing about their familiar bickering, about the way they move around each other with the easy synchronicity of a long-established pack.

Caleb pulls out the chair next to mine and sits, his thigh brushing against mine. I tense, but he doesn’t acknowledge it, simply passing me the coffee pot.

“With a dash of cinnamon, right?” he asks.

I blink in surprise. “How did you?—”

“You mentioned it was your favorite,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine. “During the pre-wedding cocktail party.”

And he remembered.

My face heats again. “Thanks,” I murmur, accepting the coffee.

The pancakes are delicious—fluffy and light, with just a hint of cinnamon and vanilla. Under different circumstances, I’d be asking Liam why he chose this recipe. As it is, I force myself to eat slowly, hyperaware of the four males watching me with varying degrees of intensity.

“So,” Jude breaks the silence, “about last night.”

I choke on a bite of pancake. Mason immediately passes me a glass of water, which I gulp gratefully.

“Maybe not while she’s eating,” Liam suggests.

“What?” Jude looks genuinely confused. “I was just going to say it was awesome.”

My face is on fire. Actual fire. I’m certain I could fry another pancake on my cheeks right now.

“Jude,” Caleb warns.

“What? It was! We all thought so.” He looks at me with puppy-dog earnestness. “Right?”

Four pairs of eyes fix on me, waiting for my response. I stare down at my half-eaten pancakes, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole.

“It was... nice,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.

“ Nice? ” Jude repeats, sounding scandalized. “You came four?—”

“Jude!” Liam and Caleb snap in unison.

“For God’s sake,” Mason mutters.

I close my eyes, willing myself to disappear. When that fails, I set down my fork with a controlled deliberation that belies the chaos in my head.

“Look,” I say, finally looking up to meet their gazes. “Last night was... unexpected.”

“Good unexpected or bad unexpected?” Jude asks, earning himself an elbow from Liam.

“Just... unexpected,” I repeat. “I don’t normally do this.”

“This being...?” Mason prompts gently.

I gesture vaguely between us. “This. One-night stands. Multiple... partners. Any of it.”

“We don’t either,” Caleb says, his voice low and serious. “This isn’t a regular occurrence for us.”

“Right,” I say, not entirely convinced. The way they moved together last night spoke of practiced coordination, even if not with other omegas.

“He’s serious,” Liam adds, leaning forward. “We’ve never brought anyone home like this. Not as a pack.”

This revelation should be reassuring. Instead, it adds another layer of pressure. If this was as unusual for them as it was for me, then it means something. And “meaning something” is far more terrifying than a simple one-night stand.

“I think I should go,” I say abruptly, pushing back from the table. “This is... I need some time to process everything.”

“Of course,” Mason says, though disappointment flickers across his face.

“I understand,” Liam adds, standing to clear my plate.

Jude opens his mouth, probably to protest, but a look from Caleb silences him.

“I’ll drive you,” Caleb says, standing as well.

This time, I don’t argue. I’m too drained, too confused, too overwhelmed by everything to insist on independence.

“Let me get changed first,” I say, gesturing to my borrowed shirt and lack of appropriate bottoms.

“Second door on the left has a bathroom with a shower,” Liam offers. “I’ll find you something to wear home.”

Twenty minutes later, I’m showered, dressed in a borrowed pair of Liam’s sweatpants (rolled at the waist and ankles) and a fresh t-shirt from Mason.

Borrowed house slippers adorn my feet and my wrinkled dress and one shoe are tucked into a paper shopping bag Jude produced from somewhere.

I’ve never felt less put-together in my life, but at least I’m clean.

The goodbyes are awkward. Jude hugs me too tightly, whispering “Come back soon” into my ear. Liam shakes my hand, then seems to think better of it and pulls me into a brief, warm embrace. Mason simply nods, though his eyes say more than words could.

And then it’s just Caleb and me, walking to his car in the morning sunlight. The silence between us is heavy, charged with all the things neither of us knows how to say.

As I slide into the passenger seat, I can’t help but wonder: How did my life get so complicated in just two days? And more importantly, what am I going to do about it now?