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Miles is right. Now that I’m in the system as promised to his pack, he is technically liable for me. A flare of frustrated anger rushes to pool in my cheeks like acid.
Miles, oblivious, nods, barely containing a relieved grin. “Okay. Okay, then I’ll take you back to the house for now. One step at a time. I’ll talk to my packmates. You’ll never have to say or do or act any way other than the way you want. If you want to stay on suppressants, we can do it the legal way. Thane can sign off on them, and you won’t have to chase around a dealer every few months. Besides, I think the legal stuff is stronger, not to mention safer.”
I nod. It’s all I can muster as he takes my hand again, drawing me close to him as he scans the rapidly darkening street around us for any sign of a threat. “This way.”
I let him tow me along, blinking as we pass the book shop window, its warm orange glow radiating from the windows, beckoning me back inside. Aching to confide in my friend.
Twenty-four hours ago, I would have kicked and screamed at the thought of going home with an Alpha. But right now, I just want to scrub myself raw and then lock myself away some place warm and dark to ride out the suppressed heat until the pills properly kick in. Going with him is the safest way for me to be able to do that. Even in a Betas only building, Alphas often walk the halls, leaving their Beta booty calls in the middle of the night. I know because I’ve scented them and then spent hours praying that they didn’t scent me in return.
“It’s going to be okay,” Miles says and I wish I could believe him.
SIX
—
R I L E Y
Miles drives a mid-sized blue hybrid,and if I couldn’t figure out his personality in the bookstore, the car would tell me everything I needed to know. He has to move a file folder as thick as a soda bottle from the passenger seat before I can sit down. In the back, I count two laptop bags leaning against a stray computer monitor. A stack of books balances precariously on the seat next to the computer equipment, sure to slide from side to side every time he takes a turn.
The guy is some sort of heroic, sexy, computer nerd, and if I hadn’t learned the hard way to be wary of Alphas, I’d be so into his Clark Kent persona.
Once I’m squished into the seat between his clutter, Miles reaches over me, securing the seatbelt over my lap. Any other day, I would make some smartass comment about feeling like a little kid, but it honestly feels good to be taken care of, even with something as banal as my seatbelt. I offer him a sheepish smile as he secures the belt as gently as he can while still ensuring the latch catches.
“Where are we going?” I mumble as he slides into the driver’s seat, his nearness spurring the last dregs of adrenaline through my veins.
“Our Pack house,” he says, starting up the car and turning back onto the main road where this entire afternoon went sideways. “It’s up near the university, on the edge of town.”
“That’s not too far,” I say with a loud yawn, sinking deeper into the seat. “I like the coffee shop near there. Good iced coffee.”
“You like iced coffee?” he says, perking up. “I can make iced coffee. I can make iced coffee for you every day if you like.”
I bite my lip to hold back a smile, talking through another yawn. “That’s… that’s really sweet, but totally unnecessary.”
“Right.” His face flushes an adorable pink, and he swallows, his throat bobbing. “To be completely honest, I’m a little nervous about bringing you home.”
My head lolls to the side, and I look at him straight on. “To be completely honest, I don’t want to go. But here we are.”
He recoils, but recovers his expression quickly, leaving only a small knot between his brows.
“We won’t hurt you,” Miles repeats again, as if saying the same four words over and over will make them any truer. “I promise you. I’ll keep on promising you until you believe me.”
“That’s what you say now,” I murmur, letting my heavy eyelids close. “But you won’t mean it in the end. No one ever does.” The last thing I hear is the soft whisper of his voice before I fall asleep completely.
“I do.”
* * *
I wakeup with a start when a warm hand touches my upper arm, shaking it slightly. The pressure against my arm is soothing, like the hot water bottle I would sleep with as a kid when it was cold at night. I blink my eyes open to meet Miles’ sweet but shy smile as he leans over me from the driver’s seat.
“We’re here,” he says before ducking out of his seat and coming around to open my door. “Here, take my arm.”
I blink, my eyes burning at being so rudely forced to open.
“Such a gentleman,” I tease as best I can with the energy I have left. He helps me stand on wobbly feet, and I gaze up at the Pack house.
But ‘house’ isn’t really the right word.
“This is a mansion,” I stammer, tired eyes pried wide. “You said it was ahouse.”
