Page 6 of Pack Plus One (Sweetwater City Reverse Harem Omegaverse #1)

LEAH

T wo hours into this charade, and I’m starting to think I’ve made a terrible mistake.

Not because the Le Roux pack is awful. Quite the opposite.

They’re attentive, protective, and unnervingly perceptive.

Every time I shift my weight, one of them notices.

Every time my smile falters, someone smoothly changes the subject.

It’s like being surrounded by very attractive, very intuitive bodyguards.

It’s both flattering and completely overwhelming.

“Another drink?” Jude materializes at my elbow, his fingers brushing against my arm as he leans in close. Too close. His scent, citrus and something woodsy, wraps around me, making it hard to think straight.

“I’m good,” I say, lifting my still-half-full champagne flute. “But thanks.”

His hand lingers on my arm. “Dance with me instead, then.” The band has just shifted to something slow and romantic, and several couples are already making their way to the dance floor.

Panic flutters in my chest. Dancing would mean being pressed against him, his hands on my waist, his face close to mine... No. Absolutely not. I’m already in too deep with this fake date situation.

“I should actually check on my friend,” I blurt out, gesturing vaguely toward the entrance. “She texted earlier, and I’ve been ignoring her.”

It’s a terrible excuse, especially since I haven’t looked at my phone once in the past hour. Jude’s eyes narrow slightly, but his smile remains intact.

“Don’t be too long,” he says, fingers trailing down my arm as I step away. “I’ll save that dance for later.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak, and make my escape toward the restrooms. I need a minute to breathe, to remind myself this is all temporary. Just a convenient fiction to get me through one awkward evening.

Except it doesn’t feel like fiction anymore. Not with the way Caleb’s eyes follow me across the room, or how Mason’s quiet attention makes me feel both seen and protected. Not with the way Liam seems to read my every emotion before I’ve even fully processed it myself.

I push open the restroom door with more force than necessary and lean against the sink, exhaling slowly. An omega touching up her lipstick gives me a curious look.

“You okay, honey?”

“Fine,” I say automatically. “Just... taking a breather.”

She nods knowingly. “Let me guess. Overwhelming alpha?”

I laugh despite myself. “Try three of them.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Pack dynamics, huh? Been there.” She caps her lipstick and drops it into her clutch. “Good luck with that.”

After she leaves, I wash my hands and press the cold tips of my fingers under my eyes.

It’s an old trick for calming down, but right now, it barely helps.

I check my reflection, smoothing my hair and reapplying lipstick.

I look flushed, eyes a little too bright.

Like I’m enjoying this game way more than I should be.

Maybe I am.

When I emerge from the restroom, Liam is waiting in the hallway, looking casual but alert. My heart does an annoying little flip.

“Everything okay?” he asks, his gentle voice belying the intensity of his gaze.

“Fine,” I say, wondering how obvious it is that I was hiding. “Just needed a minute.”

He nods, but doesn’t push for more explanation. “It’s getting crowded in there. I thought you might like some air.”

He gestures toward a set of French doors leading to a small balcony overlooking the estate gardens. It’s thoughtful and exactly what I need—a moment away from the press of bodies and the weight of Eric’s occasional glares.

Eric. What a dick. Fuck. Him.

“That would be perfect, actually.”

Liam guides me through the crowd with a protective hand hovering near the small of my back, not quite touching like Caleb had, but close enough that I can feel his warmth. I can feel his gentle strength as he moves, creating a path and subtly shielding me from the curious stares of other guests.

Something warm unfurls in my chest at his consideration—the way he protects without claiming, supports without demanding. It's a delicate balance I didn't know alphas were capable of.

The evening air is cool and sweet with the scent of roses. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes briefly as the tension in my shoulders begins to unwind.

“Better?” Liam asks, leaning against the stone balustrade.

“Much,” I admit. “Thank you. I’m not usually so... overwhelmed at these things.”

“It’s a lot,” he agrees. “Even for us, and we do this kind of networking regularly.”

“Is that really why you’re here? Networking?”

He hesitates, then nods. “Partially. We’re trying to expand our client base. This wedding has several potential high-profile clients attending.”

“And the, um, hired date?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me. “Is that standard procedure?”

A small smile plays at his lips. “No. That was Jude’s idea. The invitation specified pack seating, and he thought showing up as four packmates without an omega would draw attention.”

“Of course he did,” I mutter, earning a soft laugh from Liam.

“He’s not wrong, though. People make assumptions about alphas without an omega.” His expression turns thoughtful. “Tell me about your bakery. What made you decide to open your own place?”

The abrupt change of subject catches me off guard, almost like he’s genuinely interested. Which he couldn’t be. He’s an alpha after all. One who probably thinks an omega opening her own business is horseshit.

But talking about baking is always easier than navigating the complicated dynamics of alphas and omegas and packs.

“I’ve always loved creating things.” I smile, gaze shifting to the gardens before us. “There’s something magical about taking basic ingredients and transforming them into something that makes people happy, you know? And I was tired of working in other people’s kitchens, following their recipes.”

“You wanted creative control,” he says, nodding.

“Exactly. Plus, there’s a serious lack of omega-owned businesses in the area. I wanted to show that we can be more than just... pack accessories.”

I wince at my own words, suddenly aware I might be insulting the very concept his pack is built on. But Liam doesn’t look offended.

“That’s admirable,” he says after a moment. “Taking that risk.”

What? He…doesn’t think I’m ‘brave’ or ‘stupid’?

I stare at him for a few moments.

“Terrifying is more like it,” I admit. “But worth it, I hope.”

“It will be,” he says. When I glance at him, there’s an intense look in his eyes that makes me completely aware that we’re out here alone, standing so close together. His scent—old books and rain—wraps around me, comforting rather than overwhelming.

I release a short, breathy thing that can hardly be classed as a laugh. “I’m working on a recipe. Lavender honey cake with blueberry filling. I have a thing for blueberries. But the recipe’s been driving me crazy for weeks.”

Now, why did I say that? He didn’t even ask. It’s one thing to bore your date with details of your life. But your fake date? That has to be some crime. It is really too easy to talk to this alpha.

“Sounds delicious,” he replies, his gentle voice dropping an octave that makes something flutter low in my chest.

“Sorry, I tend to ramble about baking.”

“Don’t apologize.” He smiles, a genuine one, revealing perfect teeth. “It’s refreshing to hear someone passionate about their work.”

Oh…God. He’s perfect.

The French doors open behind us, and Caleb’s imposing figure fills the doorway. “There you are,” he says, his deep voice sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

“Just getting some air,” Liam explains, straightening up.

Caleb nods, then fixes his gaze on me. “Your…ex has been looking for you.”

My stomach drops.

“Don’t worry,” Caleb says, stepping onto the balcony. “He won’t approach you while we’re here.”

The confidence in his voice is both reassuring and a little intimidating. He moves to stand beside me, close enough that his arm brushes against mine. Unlike Jude’s deliberate touches, this contact seems unconscious, natural. I try to ignore the tingle that races up my arm.

A waiter appears with a tray of champagne.

I reach for a fresh glass. I’ve probably had enough, but it keeps my hands occupied.

Offers instances where I can take a sip and gather my thoughts before I say or do something stupid.

But my head is pleasantly fuzzy, and the last thing I need is to make a fool of myself at Eric’s pre-wedding dinner.

Caleb’s gaze is steady, assessing. “How are you holding up?”

"I'm fine," I say automatically, then amend, "A little tired, maybe.

And hungry." My stomach chooses that moment to growl softly, reminding me I've barely eaten all day.

"I keep thinking about this little Mediterranean place near my apartment.

They make this slow-roasted lamb that's just..

." I trail off, realizing I'm rambling about food to an alpha I barely know.

"Sorry. Stress makes me fixate on comfort food. "

“We can leave whenever you’re ready.”

The offer is so casual, so natural, as if we really came together. As if he’s genuinely concerned about my comfort. It sends a strange warmth spreading through my chest.

“Soon,” I promise. “I just need to make it through the next half hour.”

Caleb’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “Has that ex of yours been bothering you without one of us noticing?”

“N-no,” I say, aiming for lightness and missing by a mile.

“He’s been giving her smug looks from across the room,” Liam supplies to my utter mortification. He noticed?

“Tell me if he comes near her,” Caleb says, and it’s not a request. The alpha authority in his voice should irritate me—I’ve spent two years building a life independent of alpha protection—but instead, it makes me feel oddly safe.

Which is ridiculous. I barely know this man.

Before I can respond, Mason joins us on the balcony, a steaming cup in hand. “Thought you might need this,” he says, offering me the cup.