Pack Deception: Part One, page 20
"Just barely though. I don't think I'll be able to walk for a week," I pout, turning to look at him so he sees my bottom lip sticking out. The wicked, and absolutely smug, smirk he gives me makes laughter bubble up. Typical male.
"Don't worry, I'll carry you wherever you want to go," his grin is infectious. Worry niggles at the edge of my mind, wondering if he'll be around to carry me like he jokes. I muster up enough courage to ask a roundabout question, "Will you guys stay tonight?"
Will you stay forever?
His brows shoot up in surprise, before furrowing in confusion. "Of course we'll stay. Why wouldn't we?" I don't want to flout my insecurities, so I just shrug. No need to tell him it's because I'm worried they're here to help me through my heat because they're nice guys, but then they're bouncing. He grumbles at my non-answer. "Yes, pretty girl. We're staying. Probably until you kick us out now." My heart lifts.
"Really?" I turn and grin up at him. His eyes roll in response.
"Yes, you silly woman. We're here to stay." He leans in to press a gentle kiss to my lips.
As warmth engulfs me and Hudson pulls me tighter against his chest, I fall asleep picturing a future where I'm part of a pack again. Pack Whitlock.
"Summer. Hey, pretty girl. Wake up," a tantalizing voice whispers, trying to pull me from a deep sleep.
"Go away," I grumble back and pull my blanket above my head, burrowing into the warmth. It's too early for this, my body aches all over, and I feel like I could sleep for another week. The days following a heat are always lazy days for this reason. It completely drains me.
Two masculine chuckles follow my grumpy reply. "We are, sweets. That's why we're trying to say goodbye," Maverick says, humor in his voice. That gets me up. I come off the bed like Frankenstein, eyes darting back and forth between Maverick and Hudson. Unease trickles through me.
"You're leaving?" Their smiles drop into frowns at my worried tone.
"We have to go to work. But we were hoping you'd come by the house tonight. Mason's back from his trip, and Brooklyn will be there. I'm cooking," Maverick says, and both their eyes are shining with hope. Relief courses through me.
"I'd love that," my words fervent.
"Don't say that just yet, pretty girl. You haven't seen him cook," Hudson chortles when Maverick smacks him upside the head. He leans down and presses a brief kiss to my lips. "See you tonight."
He walks toward the door, and Maverick follows suit. This kiss is a little deeper but still way too brief. "Tonight," he declares, the single word a husky promise.
"Tonight," I echo, and then they're out the door, and I flop back on the bed. I know I should get up, shower, maybe even be productive. But my body is still too physically exhausted, so I let myself snuggle back under the covers and drift back into a dreamless sleep.
Twenty-Seven
Mason
Maverick
Dinner at the house tonight. Summer's coming.
My heart stutters in my chest at the text. Partly because it's Maverick's name that pops up. Since we're in this weird romantic limbo, every text from him feels like it's about to be the text. The one telling me he's decided he wants to break up and devote all his time to Summer. It's a text I'm sure is coming but also dreading with every part of my being. The other half of me is thrilled I'll get to see Summer again tonight. I've missed her. Hell, I've missed them both.
Hudson
Mav's cooking.
Brooke
Hell yeah. Chicken piccata?
Maverick
Yes, Brooke.
"Mmm," I mumble, feeling drool start to pool in my mouth. His chicken piccata is a family recipe. His mom taught him, who learned it from her mom, and so on. It's almost better than an orgasm, it's that good. Better than any restaurant quality piccata I've ever had, that's for damn sure. He's definitely trying to impress Summer. As much as I'm happy she's coming over, I'm also feeling little stirrings of jealousy eat at me. Not jealous of her, but them. They invited her over after spending her heat with her, and Mav didn't even tell me. I heard from Brooke, who heard it from Hudson. Hudson.
I didn't even get a courtesy text. Not even a call to say, Hey, she went into heat. Just letting you know. Miss you. Instead, he pretended like I didn't exist. Just another indicator that we've run our course.
I would have flown back, too. Screw a hike to take pictures. My mate was in heat, and I'm the only one in this pack who has ever helped an omega through one before. If anyone was going to know what she needed, it would have been me, and I would have come back in a second.
I wonder how she's doing. The days following a heat can be brutal, too, in their own way. Her body will be physically drained and her limbs stiff and sore. Not that my old pack stuck around for the aftercare. They got what they wanted and then bolted, leaving me to check up on the omegas.
Seeing my opportunity, I perk up, grab my keys and laptop, and I'm out the door. Thirty minutes later, I call Summer. "Mason?" her voice raspy with sleep. It makes my cock stir just hearing this one simple word. But I shake off the desire because that's not what I'm here for.
"Hey, beautiful. I'm downstairs, come let me in?" There's rustling on the other end like she's tossing off her covers.
"Really?" her hopeful, excited voice soothes any jealousy I was feeling a half an hour ago. She wants me, too.
"Yeah. I missed you, and I'm not working today. Thought we could spend the day together before dinner tonight." There's a giddiness to my tone that I'm sure she can hear, but I can't seem to give a shit.
A minute later, she's pushing the door open in nothing but a pair of fuzzy slippers, a pair of sinfully short shorts that are just barely peeking out of the bottom of a baggy t-shirt. Her face is split in a huge, breathtaking smile. As soon as the door is open, I swoop in and grab her in a bear hug, lifting her off her feet and spinning her around before leaning in and smashing my lips to hers. I pull away when she moans and tries to deepen it.
She pouts, but I hold up the bag in answer. I came here for a reason, and I will not be sidetracked by sex when I know she's probably still recovering. "What's in the bag?" she asks curiously, squinting her eyes to try to see through the almost translucent white material.
Setting her down completely, I take a step back and dig out the single item. "Massage oil?" she asks after reading the label on the small bottle. Her voice sounds adorably confused.
"What? You're telling me Hudson and Maverick didn't wear you out properly? Your limbs aren't aching right now?" my voice is teasing, and I can't help but chuckle at the hint of pink that flushes through her cheeks.
"You're going to give me a massage?" When I nod at her timid question, she perks up a little, and satisfaction races through me. I knew she'd need this. So I grab her hand and drag her to the elevator and hit the button for her floor.
"How do you guys just know where I live?" A touch of guilt floods me. She's not asking in an accusatory way, but she also doesn't know that we've had security on her since we met her who let us know. I think on my feet and then tell her Hudson told me which apartment was hers. She nods like this is completely plausible. Which, I guess it is, but it's not how I know. I haven't talked to Hudson yet since I've been back.
When we get into her apartment, I set my laptop bag down on her kitchen counter. The damn thing almost takes up half the countertop space, and then I turn to her. "Can I get in your nest with you?" I want to make sure before I have her lay down on it so I can get started. It will probably be fine, because it's past her heat so omegas typically aren't as gung-ho about who's in it with them like they are in the middle of one. Which is confirmed when she nods and shrugs like it's no big deal.
"Excellent. Hop up then, I'll start with your legs," I instruct, but she's moving too slow for my liking so I give her ass a nice swat, causing a slight sting in my palm and making Summer yelp in indignation.
"Let's go, chop chop," I grin at her kitten-like growl. But she does as instructed and lays on her back in the middle of her bed. I move around the small couch she has at the foot of her bed and then sit my ass at the end, near her feet. Depositing the massage oil off to the side for a minute, I start with her feet. I work my thumbs into the arches for a few minutes on each foot before moving on to her calves. She stays mostly silent, except for the odd gasp or sigh as I work the muscles there and then move to her thighs. I stay on the top and outside of the quads, never working in too far so I can keep things from turning even remotely sexual. I earn a few groans when I dig in deep on her quad muscles, which feel really tight. Then I hop off the bed and grab her right hand. Mirroring the work I did on her legs, I start at the bottom and work my way up to her shoulder. I switch to the left arm and repeat the process.
"Okay, my queen, roll over," I say in a subservient tone, like I had on our last date, and it makes her giggle and roll her eyes. But she does as I say, and she's laying on her front a second later. The muscle rub is still on the bed near her feet, so I grab that and then look at her covered back. "I'm going to use the oil on your back. Do you want to take off your t-shirt?" She hesitates for a second but then pulls it off. When she tosses it to the ground, I see red crawling up her neck that makes me want to laugh. She's sucked my dick and just spent the weekend being fucked every which way by Mav and Hudson, but me seeing her bare back makes her shy. She's too fucking cute.
With a pop, the lid opens, and I squirt a quarter-sized amount into my palm and rub them together. I straddle her ass for the best access and lay my hands on her back, rubbing up and out in light strokes at first, just spreading the oil. Her skin is so smooth and soft to the touch that it's a little distracting. I want to sit here all day and run my hands over her body, just feeling her. But when I apply a little more pressure, she moans at the contact, and I get back to work. Her back has more knots than any other part of her body, and I work my way through it, kneading them into submission. Summer shoves her face into her blankets, muffling the sound of her groaning. It doesn't sound completely sexual, because I can tell there's a bite of pain behind the noises she's making. But when I'm done, she'll feel a lot better. Even now, the tension is slowly leaking out of her, and she's almost completely limp on the bed. Another five minutes go by, and I've worked through every knot in her back, shoulders, and neck.
"Better?" I ask, leaning down and placing a gentle kiss on her temple because I just can't help myself. Her eyes are closed and she's breathing deep and even like she's close to sleep.
"Mhmm," she mumbles, making me laugh softly. She doesn't stir or try to open her eyes to talk anymore, so I grab one of her softest blankets on the bed and drape it around her. The softest snore reaches my ears seconds later.
Thanks to my foresight, I figured this might happen, and I brought some work to do while she sleeps. With careful, slow movements, I stand from the bed and tiptoe over to my laptop bag. I bring it over and climb back in the bed, because I have this unquenchable urge to be close to her. If someone had described what it was like to meet your fated mate, they still wouldn't have been able to do it justice. Everything about her is perfect to me. Her sweet, shy affectation that hides the strong, capable woman she is. Down to her mouthwatering scent, stunning body, and perfect personality. She's irresistible, and she's mine.
A few hours later, Summer starts to toss and turn a little as she wakes up. "Morning," I say, grinning at her wild hair and little puddle of drool underneath her. Bleary eyes meet mine, and I hold out my left arm. A sleepy smile stretches across her face as she crawls up to me at the head of the bed and snuggles into my body. I wrap my arm tight around her and kiss the top of her head, before turning back to the laptop resting on my thighs.
"What are you working on?" her voice is muffled by my shirt since she's burrowed against me.
"Just some edits," I reply, hand running down her soft hair absentmindedly. I started on the images I took on my trek, but then couldn't help but move quickly to the ones I shot of her at the Japanese Gardens.
"When did you go back?" she asks, confused. I look down at her, at a loss for what she means. She's frowning at the screen, biting her lip. The picture I'm on right now is of her by the koi ponds and gazebo. It's one of my favorite pictures I've ever taken, the light hits her at just the right angle, making an almost ethereal-like glow surround her. It was also right before she realized I was taking her picture, so her face is lit up in genuine, unbridled awe, and she's smiling in my direction in a way that—even through the screen—makes a swarm of butterflies thrash around in my stomach.
I see the moment she realizes it's her on the screen because her eyes pop open comically wide, and she leans closer to the screen in disbelief. "Oh my Goddess, Mason. You are so freaking talented. What kind of filter did you use?"
"Filter? Summer, this is the raw file. I haven't done a single edit on it yet." A little bit of anger starts to bubble up in me. Not at her, she can't help how someone made her feel about herself. Someone, probably the assholes who marked her, must have whispered garbage in her ear for her to not see how truly captivating she is, on and off the screen.
"No way," she disagrees, shaking her head.
"I swear on everything, this is the original file. I don't even want to edit it. You can't get much better than this. You are exquisite, and I can't wait to print it and hang it on my wall at home," I tell her firmly, meaning every word. The phrase as pretty as a picture was inspired by this shot. By her.
"Wow," she breathes, still staring incredulously at the screen, probably having not even registered what I just said.
My phone vibrates from my pocket before I can declare my undying love for her just to drive home how beautiful I think she is, inside and out.
Brooke
Where are you?
I look at the time and sigh. It's getting close to dinner, and we should probably head that way soon, but I don't want to move from this spot. That would mean she'd have to leave the comfort of my arms, and just the thought of that feels like I'd be giving up my own limb. An extension of myself.
Me
With Summer. We're heading over soon.
Brooke
You sneaky, opportunistic bastard. I'm jealous. Hurry up.
That conjures a laugh from me. "What's so funny?" Summer asks, smiling up at me.
"Just Brooke. You want to get ready for dinner?" Her eyes bug out when she realizes the time and jumps out of bed.
"I just need to take a quick shower then I'm ready, I swear," she mumbles, racing around the apartment, gathering a towel and change of clothes.
Chuckling, I say, "Take your time. We can be a little late to dinner if we have to."
Happy to have you to myself a little while longer. I want to say, but don't. She's not just my mate, so I'll pull on my big boy pants and share without bitching.
"No, it's okay. I want to see everyone." She's rushing around so much she must not realize how sappy she sounds. In the best way, though. She just saw Hudson and Maverick this morning and still includes them when she talks about missing everyone. She's got to be close to recognizing us. If not, we need to tell her soon. Any later, and she may get mad at us for keeping it from her for so long. It's better to have the truth out there in the open, even if it causes problems. We can't work through our problems if we avoid them. The sooner she knows, the sooner we can move forward. As a pack.
I wonder how soon we can convince her to move in with us. I'd love to get her out of this apartment.
Forty minutes later, I'm parking my car in the garage at the house and jogging around to open Summer's door for her. I grab her hand and walk with her inside. Almost as soon as we're through the garage door that leads to the house, they're upon us. Hudson rips her out of my hand and into his arms for a bone-crushing hug. Followed by Maverick and then Brooke. Watching them with her, as Brooke leads her to the kitchen where I can smell Mav's chicken piccata, big smiles on everyone's faces, I can't help but think how lucky I got when I stumbled into this pack's arms not too long ago. Heartbroken and alone. Now, I'm surrounded by laughter, friends, good food, and my fated mate. It doesn't get much better than this.
Twenty-Eight
Summer
It's been a week since I had dinner at the pack house, and I feel like a tornado could roll through and still not dampen my high spirits. Almost every night has been spent with them at the pack house. They've all been amazing. Mason has made a nightly thing about rubbing down my body, kneading all my knots into submission, and then I'd return the favor. Some nights I spent with Maverick and Hudson going through samples for their newest project. Tiles, paint, countertop, and flooring we picked out together, and then they did the rest when I spent time with Brooke. She let me get sneak peeks at some of her clients' manuscripts that haven't been sent to publishing houses yet, so I've done a lot of buddy reading with her. Though, even when I spent time with each of them, it was in common areas, and I found myself surrounded by the whole pack. It's been nice, being around all of them.
Brooke in particular. She's a completely different person in her house than she is to the rest of the world. At work and outside the pack house, she's composed, poised, powerful, and so sexy. When she's around her pack, she's relaxed and sweet and oddly goofy. Her and Mason get along like they were split from the same atom sometimes. Though Hudson definitely has his goofy side, too. Each night, I slept in someone's bed. One night for each of them, and since today's Friday, I've decided to spend a night at home by myself to recoup. Not from anything physical. In fact, since my heat, I haven't had sex with any of them. They're content to just hold me through the night, which I was honestly pretty grateful for, since my body was still feeling like it got ran over by a truck, despite Mason's ministrations.
