Zoe
We arrived at the bustling mall about 20 minutes after leaving the pack house, the excitement of a girls' day out already filling the air. Katelynn, Aliza, and Erica accompanied me on this shopping adventure. I couldn't have been more thrilled to spend quality time with them. Erica, especially, kept expressing her heartfelt gratitude for my healing abilities. However, I was still processing how I managed to help her. While I knew it stemmed from my Fey powers, the exact mechanism of how I activated them remained a mystery.
We strategically decided to begin our shopping spree with everyday clothing before tackling the more challenging task of finding the perfect gowns for the upcoming ball. The thought of dress shopping made my stomach flutter with nervous butterflies. I had always struggled with my body image in formal wear, mainly because of my height. Being on the shorter side meant that dresses were invariably too long, forcing me to rely on heels just to make them work.
During our casual clothes hunt, I found several flattering shirts and comfortable leggings that perfectly suited my style. I also took the opportunity to stock up on essential undergarments, selecting new bras and underwear that made me feel confident and comfortable.
Thanks to my sister and Erica's persistent encouragement, the pajama section proved to be quite an adventure. Besides the comfortable, practical sleepwear I usually gravitated toward, they convinced me to purchase some rather daring pieces. They insisted these would drive Jackson wild with desire, though I remained skeptical. Eventually, I gave in and bought them to appease their enthusiastic suggestions.
During our drive to the mall, Erica shared a touching story about her relationship with Cole. They had experienced a heated disagreement on the day of her attack, and now Cole was consumed by guilt. His solution was to hand over his credit card, insisting she indulge in a serious shopping spree. I couldn't help but giggle at her retelling, though my heart ached for Erica. She was a gentle soul who had endured tremendous loss on her journey to the king's land.
As hunger began to set in, we decided to pause for lunch before continuing our quest for ball gowns and shoes. The food court beckoned, and we settled in with our chosen meals. Our conversation flowed naturally to discussions about relationships and men when Aliza suddenly dropped a bombshell that stunned us: "I am pregnant." The news hung in the air, a surprising twist in our day that left us all wide-eyed and speechless.
"What?" we all exclaimed in perfect synchronization, our eyes wide with surprise. The news was so unexpected that it took a moment for us to process it, our minds racing with questions and thoughts.
"I am 8 weeks along," she said, beaming joyfully. "I got confirmation from the doctor just yesterday."
We immediately jumped up to embrace her, showering her with heartfelt congratulations. She shared Danny's reaction to the news and described how they surprised Eric and Beth with the announcement.
After clearing our lunch trays, we went to the dress shop, our spirits high with excitement. The boutique was clearly high-end, with price tags to match, but I had been instructed to choose any dress that caught my eye. In a gesture of gratitude for their support during my recovery, Jackson insisted I purchase dresses for Aliza and Katelynn. The mention of my injury reminded me of my upcoming appointment at the Pack Hospital at 4 o'clock, where I was scheduled to have my stitches removed.
The boutique's experienced consultant immediately took charge, efficiently pulling an array of stunning dresses for us to try on, her eyes sparkling with professional enthusiasm as she assessed our different body types and style preferences.
I entered the dressing room with anticipation and trepidation, carefully slipping into the gorgeous pink dress the consultant had selected. The gown was elegantly proportioned - long enough to create a graceful silhouette without overwhelming my petite frame. Its delicate spaghetti straps perfectly balanced the alluring neckline, which revealed just the right amount of cleavage to be tasteful yet enticing. The plunging back featured a single, intricate string detail that added an element of sophisticated sensuality.
The fabric was absolutely exquisite - a luxurious material that seemed to caress my curves, hugging my hips and bottom in a way that felt both flattering and comfortable. A daring thigh-high slit added a touch of drama and movement to the design. While I admired how the fabric draped and moved with my body, that familiar voice of self-doubt crept in, making me question whether this style suited my body type.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped out to face my waiting friends. The collective gasp that greeted me was immediate and genuine. Kaatelynn's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with delight and amazement.
"That's the dress!" Aliza exclaimed with such conviction that it startled me. Her enthusiasm bubbled over as she declared, "If you do not buy that dress, I will never speak to you again!" The ultimatum was so dramatic that I couldn't help but chuckle.
"Dramatic much?" I teased, but Aliza wasn't having any of my deflection. She assumed her signature stance - hands firmly planted on her hips, expression serious.
"Zoe Carmichael," she said with the authority of a best friend who knows better, "it is high time you realize how beautiful you are. I would kill for those curves!"
Erica and Katelynn enthusiastically agreed, their faces glowing with sincere admiration. Katelynn, ever the supportive sister, couldn't resist adding a playful jab about the genetic lottery, insisting I'd gotten all the good genes.
"Fine," I conceded, laughing at their collective determination. "I wouldn't want no one talking to me." We gathered our chosen dresses and made our way to the counter, riding high on the success of our shopping expedition. However, the moment was interrupted by the sudden ring of Katelynn's phone - it was Beth.
Katelynn answered, her expression quickly shifting from joy to annoyance as she discovered I had already arranged to pay for everyone's dresses. She began muttering under her breath, clearly frustrated. Still, before I could address that issue, her expression changed again - this time to concern.
"Everything okay?" I asked, noting the sudden tension in her posture.
"No," she replied, exasperation clear in her voice. "Our brothers are idiots. We need to go before our brothers hurt each other." I rolled my eyes heavenward, immediately wondering what kind of trouble Ryker had stirred up this time. The tension between the brothers was palpable, a reminder of the complex dynamics within our pack that always kept us on our toes.
Erika interjected with worrying news: "Cole said the alpha lost control and is trying to calm down."
"Why did he lose control?" I asked, concern mounting.
Erica's helpless shrug didn't provide much comfort. "I have no clue. He was in the office with your brothers when he lost control."
We quickly switched into crisis mode, and Katelynn and I efficiently packed up our purchases. The store's security guard kindly assisted us in transferring our bags to the car, and we wasted no time heading back to the pack house.
Upon arrival, Katelynn issued clear instructions: I would take my things to the room and speak with the Alpha. She added a protective sister warning that mate or not, she'd personally deal with him if he'd harmed our brothers.
While I deposited the shopping bags on the bed, I noticed Jackson's absence. Just as I was preparing to search for him, he appeared in the doorway, his expression an intriguing mixture of happiness and nervousness.
I didn't waste time with pleasantries. "Did you hurt my brothers?" I demanded, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.
His response was unexpectedly playful - he tilted his head, amused by my display of protective sister fury. "Sit down, Angel," he said, gesturing toward the couch.
As I maintained my stern expression, he reached out tenderly, pushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "You're cute when you're mad," he murmured, his touch sending familiar tingles down my spine despite my determination to stay angry.
"Do not attempt to sweet-talk your way out of this, Mr." I declare with all the conviction I can summon, struggling to maintain my composure. He has this infuriating yet irresistible way of making my thoughts scatter like autumn leaves in the wind, leaving me flustered and struggling to hold onto my righteous indignation.
Determined to regain some semblance of control, I deliberately slide away from him on the couch, creating what I hope is a safe distance. But Jackson, ever persistent, follows my movement, closing the gap between us. I lift my chin defiantly, trying to maintain my resolve.
"Stay right where you are," I command, my voice wavering slightly.
He arches one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, his eyes dancing with amusement. "And why should I do that?"
"Because," I breathe out, my heart racing, "I can't form a coherent thought when you're touching me. You make me flustered, and I'm supposed to maintain my anger towards you right now."
"Is that so?" he murmurs, his voice dropping to that dangerous, velvety tone as he inches closer. I try to say his name - Jackson - but it emerges as a breathy moan instead of the stern reprimand I intended, my earlier strength melting away like snow in sunshine.
"Yes," I manage to whisper.
"I am genuinely angry with you," I insist, though my resolve is weakening by the second.
"I know you are," he acknowledges softly, "but how can I improve it?" His lips brush tantalizingly against the corner of my mouth, sending shivers down my spine.
Any remaining resistance crumbles as his lips trace a burning path along my jaw and down the sensitive column of my neck. An involuntary moan escapes my lips as electric sensations course through my body, setting every nerve ending alight with pleasure.
"Are you still angry with me?" he whispers against my skin.
I can only shake my head in response, and then his lips capture mine in a passionate kiss. He skillfully maneuvers me onto my back on the couch, supporting his weight on one strong arm to avoid crushing me. I yield without hesitation when his teeth graze my bottom lip, silently requesting deeper access. The intensity builds as his free hand slides beneath my shirt, coming to rest at the side of my breast, his touch both tentative and promising. The moment is interrupted by his phone's insistent ringing. He initially tries to ignore it, but the second ring demands attention.
"Ugh," he groans in frustration, reaching for his phone on the coffee table. Seeing the hospital's number on the screen, we both suddenly remember that 4 p.m. has snuck up on us.
"We need to leave," he announces, helping me up from the couch while answering the call.
"We're on our way, Doc. Apologies for running late," he says quickly before ending the call.
I take a moment to straighten my disheveled clothes and smooth my tousled hair before we head out. As we reach the door, I turn to face him, my expression serious again. "This conversation isn't finished," I state firmly. "You still need to explain exactly what you said to my brothers."