Page 26 of Puck Your Charity

Olive scoffs. "Three screaming kids and a creepy brother-in-law. Cramped feels like an understatement. Finding ten minutes of silence requires fleeing to an empty park."

"You hate it." I state the fact.

"I hate losing my independence." She finally looks me in the eye. "I hate relying on my sister for a roof over my head. I hate the noise. I hate the thin walls."

I nod, validating her anger. "You deserve better. You had a great life in the city."

"And your pack ruined it."

"We did." I accept the blame without flinching. "Victor acted like trash. Finn overwhelmed you. We triggered a shift you never wanted. We owe you a massive debt, Olive."

She grips her sweater tighter. "I don't want a pack bond."

"I hear you." I lean in a fraction of an inch. "So let's leave the bond out of it. Let's look at the facts. You need a quiet, safe place to stay while the suppressants wear off. You need a place without screaming kids or creepy relatives."

She frowns. "Where am I supposed to go?"

"Our mansion." I offer the solution with a smooth cadence. "We have an entire east wing. It has a private entrance, a kitchen, and soundproof walls. You can stay there rent-free. You never have to see us. We will stock the fridge. We will hire lawyers to fight the hospital board for your job. You get your quiet sanctuary back, and we get to pay off our debt."

Olive stares at me. Her logical brain churns through the proposal. The idea of a quiet, soundproof wing clearly tempts her.

I smile. The Charmer never fails.

The tension shifts. Olive relaxes her grip on her gray sweater. Her tense shoulders drop a fraction of an inch.

The logic of my proposal works its magic. She craves peace and quiet. The chaotic energy of her sister's house drains her spirit. I offer a luxurious escape hatch right when she needs it most.

"A private entrance." Olive repeats the words, testing the idea. "I wouldn't have to interact with Victor?"

"You wouldn't even see his shadow." I offer a warm, reassuring smile. "You hold all the power. You set the boundaries. We stay on our side of the house."

She bites her lower lip. Her teeth sink into the soft pink flesh.

The simple motion sends a jolt of heat straight to my dick. My blood runs hot. My easy, detached playboy mask threatens to slip. Keeping my Alpha instincts locked down takes a monumental effort.

I let my guard drop a tiny bit.

I release a slow, deliberate breath. I push a controlled wave of my scent across the wooden bench. The crisp notes of citrus mingle with the dark, spicy bite of crushed black pepper. The aroma cuts through the smell of the damp suburban grass.

Olive inhales. Her breath catches in her throat.

Her brown eyes widen and her pupils dilate, swallowing the irises until a thin ring of color remains. The influx of Alpha pheromones hits her system like a tidal wave.

I slide closer on the bench, invading her personal space. The distance between our faces shrinks to mere inches.

"You deserve to be comfortable, Olive." My voice drops into a low, intimate rumble. "You deserve to feel safe."

A faint sweet scent rises from her skin. The smell of warm apple pie and cinnamon hits my nose. The arousal spikes in my veins. My heart hammers against my ribs.

My gaze drops from her eyes to her mouth. Her lips part on a ragged sigh.

The magnetic pull of the scent match takes over. The rest of the park fades away. The background noise of the rustling oak leaves vanishes. My entire universe narrows down to the taste of her breath and the heat radiating from her flushed cheeks.

I lean closer. My nose brushes against the soft line of her jaw.

Olive leans in. Her chin tilts upward. Her eyelashes flutter shut. She chases the heat of my skin. Her body acts desperate for the friction and the comfort of her Alpha.

We sit a fraction of an inch away from a kiss. My mouth waters at the prospect of tasting her. I plan to devour her right here on this bench.