Page 18 of Pack End Game

We have privacy here in the stadium, but that privacy won't extend to the outside world.

Mia murmurs, "Thank you," and stops trying to return the coat for now. As she shoves her arms into the sleeves, I stare at the front of her shirt. I'm not trying to be a perv, so I try not to let my eyes linger on her chest, but there's a questionable brown stain down the front of her shirt that I can't help but notice.

Our omega appears to be a sweet little disaster. Nothing a little laundry detergent and an appointment with a personal shopper can't fix.

I manage to draw my attention away from the stain before I slip up and mention it. I'm smarter than that. Let Freddie be the one to inevitably ask once he sees what my coat is covering up. I step forward and pull the coat snugly around her again, relishing in my first chance to stand so close we're nearly chest-to-chest.

Our eyes lock as I linger there, my hands resting at the collar of the coat as I imagine how her pink lips would feel against mine.

The moment is interrupted when someone impatiently clears their throat behind me, reminding us that we're not alone. Reluctantly, I tear my gaze away from Mia to face our small audience waiting outside the storage closet.

Her brother, Milo, who I now realize almost uncannily shares my omega's facial features, glares at me.

Chapter Ten

Mia

The man whose stolen coat I'm wearing looks back and forth between Milo and me. My brother looks like he's sizing up the man next to me, wondering if he could take him in a fight. The odds are slim to none, even before considering the fact that there are two other men on either side of him who he'd potentially also have to fight.

My brother couldn't even get past the white belt in karate class as a kid. I made it to a blue belt before he got so embarrassed that Mom finally agreed to stop making us go, and let me take gymnastics class with my friends, instead.

"Yes, we're twins," Milo answers the unspoken question in a flat tone. He puts his free hand on his hip, and his voice turns especially snarky as he asks, "Are you going to un-kidnap my sister now, please?"

I brush past the man in the closet, shuddering openly when our arms brush.

My first skin-to-skin contact with a scent-match. Swoon.

That simple brush of skin is nothing compared to the sensation that hits me like an internal storm the moment I step out of the closet and get the full experience of standing amongst my scent-matches.

All of my anxiety from being locked in a strange closet dissipates as my brain floats away on a cloud of bliss. I'm surrounded by all of the best scents I've ever experienced. Sandalwood. Sea salt. Eucalyptus. I'm transported to a tropical paradise, the sun shining on my face, and I'm overtaken by a wave of familiarity as I realize this feels just like the dream I was having before Milo's call woke me up from my couch nap earlier.

Discreetly, I pinch my own arm to make sure I'm awake this time. An entire scent-match pack, and they're already right here with the delicious scent of existing bonds. What are the odds I would get to meet all three of them at once?

Most stories are like my friend Belle's, meeting one scent-matched mate who then introduces the rest of the pack. Some omegas aren't even that lucky. There's always the possibility of finding a scent-match who hasn't found the other members of the pack yet. That's always one of the most confusing experiences, trying to decide whether to solidify the one bond they do have and close the relationship for good or to remain open to the possibility of more partners in the dynamic in the future.

Not all fates are created equally. In my totally biased opinion, my scenario is clearly the absolute best. The experience leaves me feeling so joyous and light, like the luckiest damn girl in the entire fucking world!

I mean, sure, I might not have picked a man in a sloth suit as my first choice for a mate... In fact, I tilt my head as I study the mascot, curious why I didn't catch his scent before. Maybe the suit has built-in blockers, given the number of athletes who are alphas, the fewer distractions on the field, the better.

The third man steps forward, and I instantly recognize Spencer Mills, the quarterback my brother named, who interrupted the game to stare at me. Now I know for sure that I really wasn't imagining that part. My brain did mental gymnastics in the storage closet, trying to rationalize that the hot quarterback couldn't possibly be the yummy scent-match I smelled, even if he did just so happen to seem to react to my presence moments before I smelled him.

"Freddie is a beta, so his scent isn't as strong on its own, and the suit has blockers," Spencer explains, clearly sensing my confusion. There's a strength that radiates from him that brings out an urge to give him my complete attention.

As I study Spencer more closely, I'm certain he must be the head of the pack.

And I totally called it about the suit having blockers built in.

"How dare you?" Freddie, from inside his mascot suit, protests. "Simon can hear you." He uses his clawed right hand to pet the left arm of the suit in a loving way that reminds me of a comedic villain in a 90s movie.

Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose. This isn't the first time they've had a conversation like this. "Freddie, Simon is a costume. A wearable inanimate object. Simon the Sloth doesn't have feelings, only fur and the lingering smell of sweat. The suit needs to be cleaned."

"I can't trust just anyone to clean this suit. Do you know how hard it is to source a sloth mascot? Most companies don't even make them!" Freddie crosses his arms and taps his furry foot on the ground.

I'm not surprised to hear that the sloth is not a popular sports mascot. I am surprised to hear that the cleaning of the Simon the Sloth suit seems to be such a point of contention. Freddie seems to be deeply attached to the mascot suit.

Standing here in a stolen coat I've coveted all year, I'm hardly in any position to judge anyone else's unusual attachment to a beloved garment. My experience at The Scent Vault last weekend still haunts me.

And it always will. Always.