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The unspoken promise that his pack would never leave me needing.
Hurting.
“I can’t join a pack.” My contract with Wyvern Pack voided the second they didn’t satisfy my heat, because there’s no more textbook way to flush your omega.
Going into rotation—a new pack every heat with zero painful strings like mating bites or pesky bonded souls—is my new life goal.
That’s the only way I can guarantee that I don’t suffer and I’m not lifetime stuck to another pack of dysfunctional fools.
“That’s your choice.” Cale rubs his arms. “If you’re taking pack offers, we’re making one. If you’re going into rotation, we’ll be first in line to bid. I promise not to pressure you. Convince you, yeah, no apologies for that. We’d be honored to have such a sweet omega join our pack.”
I snort.
My scent is the only thing about me that’s sweet. A smoky caramel that hides my sour personality.
One second-hand whiff of my pheromones that must’ve clung to Cale’s scrubs and his pack wants to lock me down forever.
I’d be more cynical if this were a week ago, but that was before.
Before Wyvern Pack told me I don’t belong, then proved it by leaving me alone to suffer.
Before I spent my heat writhing in a barrel.
Before I realized what I actually want.
I want security.
I want safety.
I want an iron-clad, notarized, no-take-backs guarantee from alphas who’ll lend me their knots to bounce away the pain, then see themselves to the revolving door so that I can get back to building a life I choose for myself.
I don’t know if Sorensen Pack can deliver.
I don’t know if any pack can deliver.
But Wyvern Pack has proven they can’t.
So, I promise myself that no matter how my hormones whine at me to hand over my ass, I’ll never mate a pack that can’t treat me the way I deserve to be treated.
Because who needs mates?
Screw destiny, fate, and all things meant-to-be.
I take care of myself.
And I’m done hurting.
TWO
LILAH
Cale leaves me alone with my fudge, but I’m only halfway through the box when another knock has my hackles popping. Doctor Morgan takes over the room in a wave of alpha female energy that leaves me choking on a bite of cookie dough.
“How are you feeling?” She’s masked and decked out in protective gear, but her alpha scent’s too strong to stifle.
A warm, cinnamon walnut with a hint of gin.
Boozy aunt energy.
