Page 4 of The Pack's Knotty Runaway
“Luna?”
Her eyes are shut tight, hiding the striking, light brown gaze I’ve been watching all evening, her chest rising and falling slowly.
Did she just... fall asleep?
Well, that’s a first. Maybe I should—
Woah.
The room suddenly tilts. A massive yawn tears through my jaw, my eyelids dropping, heavy as lead. I shove my palms into the bed to hoist myself up, but my arms turn to jelly.
What is happen—
3
Luna
I wake up with my face buried in an alpha’s neck.
My nose draws a slow line up his throat, drinking in a vague, delicious smell while my cheek rubs against his jaw in the same deliberate rhythm. And—oh god, it’s a full-body effort. My hips are moving too, grinding against him in a slow, shameless roll.
I am comprehensively scent-marking and grinding an alpha I just met, and every cell in my body is having the time of its life.
The rational part of my brain screamsstop.My omega, who is currently driving the ship, floors the accelerator. The collision of these two forces produces a jerk so violent I nearly launch myself clean off the mattress.
“Oh my god.” I’m upright, clutching the duvet to my chest. “Oh mygod.”
Ash stirs, opening one hazel eye, then the other, the corner of his mouth lifting. He looks at me sheet-clutching, with mascara probably halfway to my chin, entirely too relaxed.
“Morning,” he says, his voice wrecked.
“I—I wasrubbing myself on you.” I press a hand over my face.
“That explains the beautiful dream I was having,” he says, stretching one arm above his head, slow and loose.
“But I didn’t—that wasn’t—I am so sorry. That is a deeply inappropriate thing to do to someone without—”
“Luna.” He props himself up on one elbow, his pecs catching the morning light. “The way I see it, you were just picking up where we left off last night.”
I go still.
Last night.
The memories come in flashes: his mouth on my hip, my fingers tangled in his hair, the room whiting out. And then... blank. Nothing.
My face goes nuclear, because I realize this man spent a considerable amount of time tending to my needs, and in return, I just... passed out?
“Oh my god,” I mumble. “I was absolutely going to reciprocate. I have no idea what happened. I swear this has never—”
“I guess I just missed my calling as some kind of erotic sandman,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips.
My cheeks burn even hotter as I stare at him in sheer mortification. He’s smiling, warm and completely unbothered, which somehow makes me want to sink through the mattress. I want to pull the duvet over my head and stay there until next Saturday.
“I’m just teasing,” he says, his eyes dancing. “Honestly, I passed out not long after you did. Genuinely. One second I was—” He gestures vaguely toward my thighs, which does nothing to make me less self-conscious. “—and the next, I was out cold. So if nothing else, I’m glad you got off on me before the lights went out.”
I try to gather my thoughts, but my brain is operating at a sluggish two-thirds capacity. Because the more awake I get, the more his scent floods my senses. It’s everywhere now, atantalizing haze I can’t quite grasp or fully pin down. The scent-suppressing spray has clearly started to dissolve overnight, and every time I breathe him in, my train of thought derails
“Hold on,” I manage, using every ounce of my willpower to force my brain to operate. “We just both fell asleep? I mean, sure, we had a few drinks, but—”
