Page 75 of A Pack for the Wedding
Maren and Luna left shortly after that. They decided the bachelorette prep had been productive enough for one evening, and Luna added, with the strained cheerfulness of someone who has recently survived a home invasion, that they'd had "enough adventure for one night."
So now it's just me and the alphas. Arthur is walking in from the hallway with the chicken cradled against his chest, one broad palm smoothing down its feathers, murmuring to it like it's a newborn.
"Oh, Clementine," he says softly. "Why were you hiding?"
She'd hidden, apparently.Afterwe barricaded ourselves in the bathroom, wedging herself under the couch.
"Clementine," I repeat.
"She's our mascot," Mason says, leaning against the kitchen island. "For the rugby team."
"She belongs to Old Bill," Knox adds, reaching for his glass of water. "He's got a farm past the ice rink. Everyone knows Bill."
"Old Bill... And you guys have a rugby team," I say.
"Yeah, we play a match once a quarter for the Lake's Edge Cup," Knox says from the couch, stretching his legs out. "We basically just split the local guys into two squads and beat the hell out of each other for bragging rights. And Clementine here comes to celebrate with us at every victory. We all love her."
"How did she end up here though?" I ask.
Arthur is still petting Clementine with the focus of someone performing surgery. "Bill couldn't make the match today, so I offered to pick her up this afternoon. I set up everything in my room, her food dispenser, her water, the blanket she likes. She was sleeping so deeply I didn't want to wake her, so I let her rest while I got ready, and then I was late for the match, and I—" He trails off. Rubs the back of his neck. "Forgot her."
"You forgot you left a chicken in your bedroom," I say.
"I feel terrible," he says.
He looks it, too. The flush on his ears has spread to his cheeks, and he's holding Clementine like she's the only thing keeping him grounded.
"And Knox and I were out all day and didn't even know Old Bill couldn't make it today," Mason says, shaking his head.
"But in Arthur's defense, he built her a little corner," Knox says, grinning. "With a towel nest."
"She likes the towel nest," Arthur says quietly, and the sincerity of it does something to my chest that has nothing to do with leftover adrenaline.
I look at Clementine, who is tucked against Arthur's collarbone with her eyes half-closed, looking about as threatening as a cotton ball. Which is infuriating, given the T. rex energy she was channeling forty-five minutes ago.
"Does she usually come at people like a velociraptor?" I ask. "Because that was—"
"She doesn't attack," Arthur says, like I've insulted a family member. "She's very cuddly. She probably saw you and wanted to be petted."
"She wanted to bepetted," I deadpan.
"She does that," he says. "Runs up to people. It's how she says hello."
"That is objectively terrifying," I tell him.
"Only if you don't know her," Arthur says, with genuine pain in his voice.
Clementine ruffles her feathers and settles deeper into the crook of his arm. Docile. Content. Nothing like the tiny dinosaur that barreled toward me down the hallway.
"Can I—" I start, surprising myself. "Can I pet her?"
Arthur's face opens up. "Yeah. Of course. Just—slow, and along the feathers, not against."
I step closer. Clementine's beady eyes track me, and for a moment she turns her head away.
I blink. "Is she... ignoring me?"
"She's probably a little offended," Arthur says. "That you ran."
