Page 45 of Pack End Game

Something made very apparent by the scowl I don’t bother to hide.

Rufus winces.

"This place has great reviews," he says weakly. "And the yard is fenced. Great for pets or kids!"

The house initiates its tour, completely unaware of the growing tension in the foyer. "The outgoing owners have enjoyed seven years at this residence with its built-in intelligence system. With automatic updates and expansive sensory systems in each room, I can ensure you years to come of adaptive comfort, predictive wellness support, and streamlined daily efficiency."

Freddie puts a hand on his chest. "Does anyone else think 'predictive wellness support' sounds vaguely threatening?"

"I recommend daylight settings for the house for the best experience during your tour." Another chime sounds from the panel on the wall, and then the lights in the foyer subtly adjust.

I'm usually a fan of warm-colored lighting, but the auto-adjustment is off-putting. I didn't even like the motion-detected lights in the guys' existing house. Why on earth would I want a robot house picking my lighting for me?

"No," Spencer says again, more firmly this time. "Stop doing things."

"Command not recognized. Would you like me to add stop doing things to your custom commands settings?"

"Yes," Freddie says.

"No," Spencer and I say in unison.

Rufus ushers us further into the house before the foyer can start requesting information about our blood types.

The house is undeniably beautiful. The first room we enter is a large living room with built-in bookshelves framing a brick fireplace that looks original to the home. The living room leads seamlessly to a beautiful kitchen with wood cabinets and a huge bay window overlooking the backyard full of trees.

For roughly two minutes, I can almost forget the house has a voice.

Then, the fridge says, "You appear to have brought your own beverages. Would you like me to chill them to individual preferences?"

Freddie whirls around with a gasp and points his finger at the fridge. "No, we would not like you to do anything to our beverages. Mind your business."

"My business is home management," the fridge says.

"This is why no one trusts technology," Freddie murmurs.

A screen next to the sink, just like the one by the front door, lights up. "Based on facial tension and elevated breathing, one or more visitors may be experiencing low-level discomfort. Would you like me to activate the hot beverage station and recommend a calming tea?"

Rufus rubs the wrinkles on his forehead that have formed as he becomes increasingly concerned. I'm sure he can tell that the talking house isn't winning any of us over.

"No more talking appliances." Spencer rubs the back of his neck and eyes the dishwasher suspiciously.

"I'm sorry," Rufus says. "The sensitivity settings can be turned down so that the smart house doesn't feel this intrusive all of the time."

That does little to ease my growing anxiety.

Freddie leans closer to the fridge and jams his finger against the metal handle. "Listen to me, you smug little ice box. You're not the alpha here."

“Relaying to the main system that you’re attempting to find an alpha. Would you like me to connect you with an agency for assistance?”

There’s a collective gasp from the pack. The house has some nerve threatening my possessive scent-matches like this. I glare at the offending fridge.

“Absolutely not!” Freddie bitch slaps the appliance, but recoils instantly with a quiet, “Ouch.”

"Would you like protein recommendations?" the fridge asks.

"What?" Freddie gasps and backs away a step. "Why would you ask me that? I get plenty of protein." He lifts his arms and flexes his muscles. He's not quite as athletically built as Spencer or Zak, but he's still impressive in his own right. No amount of muscle would change the fact that slapping stainless steel is bound to hurt.

"Let's all take a deep breath and finish the rest of the tour," Spencer says, looking to Rufus uncertainly. He seems keen to finish the tour as quickly as possible, which I don't think any of us will argue with.