25

I 've been on airplanes.

I've flown all over the world.

I've flown in economy, business class, and first class.

I have never flown on a private jet.

I have never been on a plane crammed full of hockey-playing werewolves.

As we climb the stairs into the team's private jet with their massive logo covering the entire side, I realize I'm nervous, and it takes me a moment to sift through my thoughts to figure out why.

I know I'm safe.

I know I'll be with Roman.

I know all of the guys that I know will be here.

But what if the others don't like me?

The rest of the men on the team aren't pack members, they're just teammates. They don't have a loyalty to Roman outside of hockey.

We pass through the doorway of the plane, and Coach is standing there with his clipboard marking off his men as they climb inside. “Well, hello there, young lady. It's nice to see you again,” he greets me with a giant smile, immediately calming some of my worry.

“Hey, Coach.” I smile back, hoping he can't see the nervousness on my face.

He claps me on the shoulder before turning to Roman. “You take care of her now, Roman. She's a treasure.” And with that, I really smile.

Roman, being the grump he is, just nods and grunts at Coach like a caveman.

My eyes roll so hard, I worry they’ll get stuck like that.

Coach laughs. “She'll fit in just fine.”

Roman leads me to our seats. I gawk in awe of everything. Who needs business or first class when you can fly like this? The seats are basically couches with seatbelts in them. There are giant TV screens everywhere with different hockey games playing on them. There are even a couple of miniature refrigerators nestled in between the seats.

When Roman takes his seat, instead of letting me plop into mine, he pulls me onto his lap in front of EVERYONE. I've got to be bright red. “Roman, would you like to clue me in on why I can't sit in my own seat?” I whisper harshly in his ear.

Benny chuckles from beside us, reminding me whispering probably doesn't work well on an airplane full of werewolves.

Shit.

Roman just chuckles to himself before responding, “Sorry, Sweetheart, but we're on an airplane full of unmated werewolves, and you smell like heaven. It's not your fault, and it's not theirs either. So, I'm just going to hang on to you, if you're comfortable, that is?”

Of course he would end it with a question and give me an out if I really wanted it. Turns out, I don't. I’ve still got to get used to all the public displays of affection, but I love them. They catch me off guard because I'm not used to it, but that doesn't mean I don't enjoy his possessiveness.

As the men continue to file onto the plane, I settle into Roman's lap with my laptop to finish one of my assignments.

In the last few days, I've also realized I don't hate taking my college classes online. I actually really enjoy it. It's a lot more like homeschooling. I get to work at my own pace and don't have to deal with the disruptions that come with the classroom environment. I've actually worked ahead in my Explorations in Modern Mathematics class and only have five assignments left to complete for the entire semester. I've always loved math; something about it just clicks in my brain, so for that class especially, being able to work ahead at my own pace is really nice.

Benny is sitting on Roman's left, Andrei is sitting on his right, the twins are giving Coach hell, and Slate is tucked away in a corner with his own laptop.

Benny keeps asking me questions about my classes and being his normal sunshiny self while Roman grunts along. He's got everyone else fooled with his tough guy attitude, but I'm learning it's because if he lets too many people in, then he has more people that he'll care about and worry over.

With Andrei on his right, my back is facing him, and I can’t help but get that feeling I always get every time Andrei is around. I don't know why I haven't told Roman about the bond-like tugging feeling I also get from him. I think we mostly haven't really had a quiet moment for me to really bring it up. I should have when we were talking through everything the other day, but our list was already so long. I can feel the tiny tugging feeling now, and it's going to drive me crazy.

I want to bring it up, talk to him—something—but a crowded plane of nosey werewolves isn't the place, so I just keep working through my remaining math assignments and occasionally answering Benny's questions, until Roman tenses beneath me.

When I look up at him, he's staring straight at Slate, and they're definitely having a silent conversation that the six of them are all in on because they all go from staring at Slate to Roman, or me, I'm not sure.

“What's up?” I whisper to Roman, but he shakes his head and gives me a look that I think says, I'll explain later.