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I’m never sure. Does Jett genuinely like me?
Or does he just hate females so hard that I’m his only option?
When we’re drunk on my heat pheromones, the five of us would fuck anything from a key lime pie to a tree bole, but when the madness dies, I’m always left wondering if our pack has chemistry or just convenience.
I don’t even know if I want them all to want me, but my hormones are so fucked up that my switch is forever flipped to possessive bitch.
Either way, I melt under my alphas’ attention. Having them here—all four of them back in the house, back in my territory—releases the tension that’s been weighing me down for days.
They’re assholes, but they’re my assholes. My mates. My pack. “It was too quiet without you guys.”
“There’s been a development.” Jett adds another hit to Atlas’s we have to talk bomb.
“What’s going on?” I feel dizzy. Like I’m untethered, all these hormones tearing me in five different directions. With things so unsettled vague between us all, there’s no gravity. Nothing tying me down to the earth. For the first time, I realize the guys are out of their regular camo and combat boot uniforms. “Why are you wearing suits?”
Jett’s the only one with his jacket neatly buttoned. Finn and Hunter are as rumpled as you’d expect, their hair fucked up and their sleeves rolled down.
I lean into Jett, nostrils flaring. He’s cedar and cherry blossom, a warm, sophisticated scent that’s a total mismatch to his icy outside. It’s usually a nice contrast to the other guys’ heavier scents.
Now there’s an undertone of something else. A whiff of something sweet, sugary, and so out of place that it makes my gut clench.
I want to say it’s not the scent of another omega—or a lot of other omegas—but a fancy dress party where I wasn’t invited?
Fuck.
Have they already picked my replacement?
“The dads are scheming again.” Jett’s gaze loses focus. “Just know that we’re on your side. Always.”
My heart swirls in my chest. I’m torn between devastation and I fucking knew it.
Their dads hate our pack.
My dad’s pretty fucking ecstatic about it because I’m bound to the Wyvern heirs for good, but he’s just Wyvern House’s tech guy, not one of the four founders.
My mates’ fathers grew up together, bled together, and left the military together to create Wyvern House. They even hired surrogates at the same time so their sons could grow up together.
The guys were raised like brothers, and it was the luckiest day of my life when they accepted me into their inner circle. Back then, the dads were on board with our plan. The five of us would form a pack and mate the perfect omega.
But then I was eighteen, nineteen, twenty-four, and unawakened with four hulking alpha best friends waiting on me to mature to finally lock down their pack.
And then the audacity.
I awakened as an omega.
Atlas bonded us before the dads knew what was happening. They were feral when they found out.
I remember the morning the five of us stumbled out of the nest, high on sex and the pheromones of my first heat. I was glowing, giddy after the rush of bonding, of finally feeling Atlas move inside me and earning his bite. Not just smug, but omega-smug, well-knotted and wearing the still-raw bites of my favorite people in the world.
All four dads were waiting.
They ripped their sons away like a stripper tearing off his G-string, leaving me alone to listen to the four lectures that echoed through the house, each one cutting out a different piece of my heart.
Scorpio’s words stabbed the deepest.
“Do you understand what you’ve done?” he growled. “There’ll be no balance to this pack. It’s not what any of your packmates wanted, but did you stop to ask them, Atlas? Did you once think about your futures before you started rutting into that boy?”
That’s when I realized I was the pity mate.
