Page 7 of Unbonded (Pack’s Companion #3)

As soon as we reach the room, I unlock the door, and they hurry inside. The dining cart is where I left it, and while they check on Dash, I maneuver it out into the hall. I can hear enough of their excited reunion to know he’s in safe hands, but before I can leave, Dash calls my name.

I step inside, some of the turmoil quietening inside me as our gazes meet.

The soup bowl is empty, and while there’s faint bruising across his nose, there’s more color in his face.

Bram is rinsing the washcloth in the bathroom while Corbus sits close beside him on the bed, stroking his hair.

I swallow hard as I watch his fingers brush through Dash’s silky strands with infinite care. “How are you feeling now?”

“Better, thanks.” He grabs Corbus’s hand and squeezes it, but his gaze is still locked on mine, a little divot between his brows. “Corbus said you got in trouble with your manager.”

“It’s fine,” I fib, because it’s touching that he cares at all. “She was just making sure I wasn’t ignoring my other tasks.”

“Yeah, but I’m still sorry.” He casts a quick glance at Corbus, his puppy dog eyes on display. “Can we talk to her and sort things out?”

Corbus nods and I wonder for a frantic moment if he’s going to get the hotel owner back on the phone. “Really, there’s no need,” I say quickly. “I finished my shift half an hour ago, so she can’t really complain.”

“God, now I feel worse,” Dash says, biting his lip. “You’ve had a long day, and I’ve had you running around the hotel instead of relaxing at home.”

“I’m just glad you’re feeling better.” As Bram comes out of the bathroom with a fresh washcloth, I realize a suite really isn’t big enough for all the bodies in the room and start backing towards the door. “It was nice to meet you in person, and I hope everything goes well with the new production.”

“Thanks, but…” Dash looks around, patting his pockets before he pulls a face. “I still can’t find my phone, but I’d like to take you to lunch as a thank you.”

I stop abruptly, my stomach twisting with a swirl of anxious joy. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to do that.” Excitement brightens his eyes, and he scoots to the edge of the bed. “Or come to opening night, if you prefer. If you already have tickets to the show, you could come to the after party.”

I can feel Corbus watching us closely and now his brows lift an inch. “We can arrange that,” he says with a polite smile. “Just call my office and I’ll sort it out.”

“So formal,” Dash laughs, leaning up to kiss the alpha’s cheek before he shoots me a cheeky grin. “You should definitely come. You can tell me if watching me on my knees is as good as you remember.”

Corbus’ brows now shoot up even higher and my face burns with heat as Dash cackles in delight. He pops off the bed, giving Bram a wink as he heads to the bathroom. “I’m going to grab a shower before I crash.”

“I’ll stay with you and make sure you don’t slip again,” the big alpha says, and I try to keep the envy off my face as they head into the bathroom.

There’s an easy, affectionate vibe between them that calls to me, and I realize it’s not just the alphas; it’s all three of them.

If they’re not already a pack, they will be soon, given the way they gravitate around each other.

“Kate, could I speak to you for a moment?”

I drag my gaze back to Corbus. He’s left the bed as well, and my stomach tightens as he gestures for me to follow him into the hall.

There’s no denying he has a striking face – with the kind of bone structure and polished skin you usually only see on a magazine cover – but there’s something about it that feels almost too perfect.

What would it take for his eyes to glitter and his mouth to soften?

Does he only show that side to Dash, or would I see it too, if I got to know him better?

“Thanks again for everything,” he murmurs in his lilting accent when we reach the hallway. “You have gone above and beyond to help Dash, and we appreciate it very much. Please, take this so you can get home safely.”

The way he touches my hand sends a jolt right up my arm, and my body tilts instinctively towards him, seeking more of this connection.

Scent matches are supposed to go into a haze when they first meet, and I search his face, looking for some sign of…

anything . But instead of musky arousal and inflamed senses, it’s like he’s wearing a bland mask as he pushes something into my palm.

Looking down at the crisp hundred-dollar bill, the truth dawns on me.

He hasn’t taken me into the hallway to talk about our scent bond. He’s giving me cab fare, so I don’t have to take the subway home after a long day.

Instead of being weak in the knees over our connection, he’s being polite, which has my hand clutching around his money in a painful spasm.

I open my mouth to tell him he doesn’t need to pay me, but the exchange is over. He’s already pulling his phone from his pocket and stepping back into the room.

And then he pauses. His brow scrunches, and he looks back at me, a question flitting through his beautiful, icy eyes.

I hold my breath, waiting, hoping.

There’s no way he can deny what is right under his nose…

“We really do appreciate your help, Ms. Valentine.”

Bitterness curls on my tongue, so thick even he has to smell it. “I was just doing my job.”

He nods, distracted by his phone, and then I’m alone in the hallway with the dining cart and the mocking scent of cedarwood lingering in the air.