Page 20 of Pack Plus One (Sweetwater City Reverse Harem Omegaverse #1)

JUDE

“ D ustbuster duty,” Caleb had called it. “Punishment for the veggie bouquets.”

Technically, I was sentenced to clean the entire house, but since Mason already keeps his room spotless and Liam would rather die than let anyone touch his stuff, I’m stuck with Caleb’s lair. Which is fine by me.

I call it my weekly “deep clean” of his room. He calls it “Jude snooping for blackmail material.”

He’s not wrong.

I’m rifling through his dresser—purely to organize his socks, you understand—when I spot the edge of a suspiciously non-alpha-like magazine peeking out from under his mattress. Now we’re talking. Potential embarrassment gold mine.

As I wedge my arm between the mattress and headboard, my fingers brush against something silky.

I freeze.

No fucking way .

I pull out the scrap of fabric—emerald lace, delicate enough that it barely covers my palm—and my entire body goes still.

Leah’s .

From that night .

The scent hits me like a freight train at full speed. Vanilla and cinnamon, yes, but underneath it— holy hell —that unmistakable omega musk that makes my cock twitch instantly in my jeans. Before I can think better of it, I press the lace to my face and inhale deeply.

Catastrophic mistake .

Her arousal still clings to the fibers, sweet and heady and maddeningly potent.

Suddenly I’m back in Caleb’s bed, watching her come apart under my mouth, her thighs trembling against my shoulders, her taste still on my tongue.

My vision tunnels, pupils dilating as my grip tightens on the fabric.

Something inside me roars to life, hungry and possessive.

“Sweet mother of mercy,” I mutter, my voice already rough enough to sand wood.

The door creaks open behind me.

“Jude, have you seen my—” Mason stops dead. “What are you—” His dark eyes drop to the lace in my hand, and his expression shifts from confusion to understanding in a heartbeat. “Oh.”

I grin, holding up my prize like I’ve discovered buried treasure. “Look what I found.”

Mason’s nose twitches—poor beta senses—but he takes one look at my face and sighs. “I can’t smell it from here, but your expression says everything.”

“Want a sniff?” I tease, waving the panties at him. “It’s like a trip down memory lane, but with less walking and more…smelling.”

He rolls his eyes, but I don’t miss how his gaze follows the movement of the lace. “Put those back before Caleb?—”

The bedroom door slams open with such force that the framed brewery award on the wall tilts sideways.

Caleb stands in the doorway, chest heaving like he’s run a marathon, green eyes burning with feral intensity. His nostrils flare once, twice—then his gaze locks onto the lace in my hand with laser-like precision.

Oh, shit .

“Give.” His voice is pure alpha command, rough with possession, the single syllable vibrating with enough authority to make even my rebellious instincts quiver. “Them. To. Me.”

I clutch the panties to my chest, backing up a step. “Finders keepers, big guy.”

Caleb moves faster than I can blink, slamming me against the wall with one hand braced by my head. His dark chocolate and espresso wraps around me, thick with warning. “Last chance, Jude.”

Mason sighs from behind us. “You two are like kindergarteners. Please?—”

I duck under Caleb’s arm and bolt for the door, cackling like a madman. “Catch me if you can, Cale!”

I make it approximately three steps into the hallway before 220 pounds of furious alpha tackles me to the ground with the precision of a professional linebacker.

“ Mine ,” Caleb growls in my ear, his forearm pressing between my shoulder blades as he reaches for the panties still clutched in my fist. His knee digs into my spine with bruising pressure.

“Fuck off —” I twist, trying to shove him away, but Caleb’s built like a goddamn brick wall. I manage to squirm onto my back, holding the panties aloft like the Olympic torch. “I found them fair and square!”

Mason appears in the doorway, arms crossed, looking like a disappointed parent. “This is undignified.”

“Help me, you traitorous beta!” I wheeze as Caleb attempts to pin both my wrists with one hand.

Mason considers this request for approximately half a second. Then, to my eternal betrayal, he crouches down and tickles my ribs .

“ Motherf —” I shriek, bucking wildly as Caleb uses the distraction to try prying the lace from my fingers?—

—just as Liam rounds the corner, tie perfectly knotted, a stack of files tucked under one arm.

He stops dead, his mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ of shock.

“What in the actual—” His reading glasses slide down his nose as he takes in the scene: Caleb straddling my hips, Mason sitting on my legs, and the now-stretched remains of Leah’s panties held above my head like the world’s most inappropriate trophy.

Liam’s eye twitches. “Is that her underwear ?”

“Technically,” I gasp from my position pinned beneath two grown men, “they’re our underwear now. Community property. I’m just ensuring equal distribution.”

Liam makes a sound like a deflating balloon mixed with a dying whale.

“For God’s sake,” he hisses, dropping his files on a nearby table and marching over. “We are not cavemen fighting over?—”

His sentence cuts off abruptly as he gets close enough for his nose to catch what has Caleb and me in a frenzy. His pupils dilate instantly.

“Is that—” Liam swallows hard. “Give me those.”

And just like that, four grown men are engaged in a literal dogpile in the hallway, snarling over a scrap of lace.

“I FOUND IT FAIR AND SQUARE,” I yell as Caleb’s elbow connects with my ribs.

“We’re supposed to be giving her SPACE,” Liam grunts, somehow having lost both his glasses and his dignified persona in the scuffle.

“Technically, we are,” I point out, narrowly avoiding Mason’s attempt to pinch the pressure point in my wrist. “These are just her panties that she left here. She’s not even present.”

“That’s—” Caleb pants, “—not the point.”

The panties, caught in our collective grip, make an ominous ripping sound.

We all freeze.

“Now look what you’ve done,” I accuse, pointing at Mason.

“ Me? ” he sputters. “That was clearly Liam’s fault!”

“ENOUGH!” Caleb roars, his alpha command reverberating through the hallway with enough force to make the pictures rattle.

We all go still, the tattered remains of emerald lace divided between our hands like some perverse game of Capture the Flag.

Ten minutes later, we’re gathered around the kitchen table like some fucked-up tribunal. The panties—now stretched beyond recognition—sit in the center like a holy relic on a very inappropriate altar.

Liam, having retrieved his glasses and straightened his tie in a futile attempt to restore his dignity, massages his temples. “We agreed to give her space. We had a pact .”

I lean back in my chair, unable to keep from grinning. “So hypothetically... if someone may have sent Leah a gift of artistically arranged vegetables the other day?—”

Mason chokes on his coffee. “ You what ?”

Caleb’s head snaps up from where he’s been glaring at the ruined lace. “You contacted her?”

“ They were tasteful ,” I defend, crossing my arms. “Aesthetically arranged. Museum quality, even.”

Liam’s ballpoint pen snaps in half between his fingers. “ Define ‘tasteful.’”

I stroke my chin thoughtfully. “Well, there may have been a zucchini wearing a crown. And possibly an eggplant harem. But the carrots were very respectfully positioned.”

Mason rubs his temples like he’s fighting off a migraine. “Christ on a cracker.”

Caleb’s jaw ticks, a vein pulsing in his forehead. “And you lectured me about boundaries.”

“The vegetables were a spontaneous inspiration,” I reply with a shrug. “I hadn’t even decided to violate her boundaries when I gave you that lecture.”

Mason clears his throat. “At least I was subtle.”

“Don’t even start,” I shoot back. “You brought her breakfast at her bakery.”

Liam’s head whips toward Mason, eyes wide with betrayal. “You did what ?”

Mason shrugs, the picture of unrepentant beta calm. “She’s been working hard. It was a logical?—”

“ Logical ?” Liam’s voice cracks. “You stalked her bakery !”

“Coincidental timing,” Mason corrects, examining his nails. “I was in the neighborhood. With coffee. And pastries.”

Caleb snorts. “Like my ‘accidental’ visit to her apartment?”

The room goes silent. Three pairs of eyes swivel to stare at him.

Liam slowly, deliberately removes his glasses, folding them with precision. “ Excuse me ?”

Caleb at least has the decency to look mildly ashamed, running a hand through his chestnut hair. “She slammed the door in my face.”

“The first time. The second time you kissed her,” I add helpfully, enjoying the way Liam’s face transitions through several fascinating shades of red.

“You kissed her?” Mason’s usually unflappable composure cracks. “After we explicitly agreed?—”

“She kissed me back,” Caleb growls, green eyes flashing. “Until she remembered she’s still pretending to need space.”

Liam makes a noise like a boiling kettle before collapsing into a chair. “I’m the only one who respected her boundaries? Really ?”

Mason side-eyes him over his coffee cup. “You sent her a twelve-page business proposal.”

“That was professional !” Liam splutters, his blush spreading to his ears.

“One page literally said ‘Your needs are our priority,’” I point out, mimicking his precise pronunciation. “And you included three different font choices for our combined logos. With sample business cards .”

“That’s just good business strategy!”

“You color-coded potential ‘scent-pairing options’ for the menu,” Mason adds flatly.

Liam’s face turns an impressive shade of scarlet. “That was... market research.”

“Sure it was, Shakespeare,” I pat his hand. “Just own it. We’re all pathetic.”

“Four alphas—” Mason clears his throat. “Three alphas and a beta,” he corrects, “reduced to fighting over underwear like teenagers.”

Caleb’s expression darkens. “What do we do with... these?” He gestures to the sad, stretched remains of Leah’s once-sexy panties.

“We could return them,” I suggest, waggling my eyebrows.

“Absolutely not,” Liam and Mason say in unison.

“We establish a rotation system,” I propose, earning three identical glares. “What? It’s democratic!”

“We are not implementing a panty rotation schedule,” Liam states, voice dripping with disdain. “We’re not animals.”

“Speak for yourself,” I mutter.

“I have a solution,” Liam announces, standing abruptly. He disappears down the hall, returning moments later with a small metal box. “My fireproof safe. Twelve-digit code, tamper-proof, and I’m changing the combination nightly.”

“That’s... excessive,” Mason observes.

“Is it?” Liam challenges. “Is it really?”

Given the last twenty minutes, none of us can argue.

The panties—what’s left of them—now reside in Liam’s fireproof safe, protected by a twelve-digit code and what I suspect is a prayer to whatever deity might listen to alphas with trust issues.

As we disperse for the night, I catch Caleb’s arm in the hallway. “Made copies,” I whisper, flashing him the photo I sneakily took on my phone—her delicate emerald lace stretched across my palm, captured in all its glory before the Great Panty War of Tuesday evening.

His eyes darken instantly, the green almost swallowed by his dilated pupils. “ Delete that .”

“Make me,” I challenge, dancing backward.

He lunges for my phone with a growl. I sprint down the hall, cackling, Mason’s long-suffering sigh echoing behind us.

“Children,” Liam mutters from the kitchen. “I live with actual children.”

Halfway up the stairs, my thumb slips on the screen as Caleb grabs the back of my shirt. I glance down in horror as my photo app opens, my finger accidentally hitting “share” and then?—

Oh holy fuck .

My phone pings with a confirmation.

Image sent successfully to: Leah

I skid to a stop so fast that Caleb plows into my back, nearly sending us both tumbling down the stairs.

“What the—” he starts.

My phone pings again. All four of our phones chime simultaneously with an incoming message.

Leah

Is that... are those... my underwear? WHAT THE HELL, JUDE?

The resulting silence is priceless .

Then—

“ Jude .” Three voices snarl in unison, each syllable dripping with promised retribution.

My phone pings again.

Leah

I cannot believe this. You four are UNBELIEVABLE. First the vegetables, then the ambush, and now THIS?

And again.

Leah

You know what? I’ve had it. This is ridiculous. All of you. My apartment. Tomorrow. 7 pm. We’re settling this once and for all.

I slowly turn to face my packmates, their expressions ranging from murderous (Caleb) to mortified (Liam) to strangely calculating (Mason).

“Well,” I announce with a grin that’s only slightly terrified, “looks like we have a date.”

Caleb’s growl vibrates through the stairwell. “ Worth it ?” he demands through clenched teeth.

I consider our current situation: Leah furious, my packmates plotting my imminent demise, and the very real possibility that I’ve ruined everything.

Then I think about her message. All of you. My apartment. Tomorrow.

“Absolutely worth it,” I declare, dodging Caleb’s grab and sprinting for the safety of my room.

Because angry or not, Leah wants to see us. All of us. Tomorrow.

Mission fucking accomplished.