Page 68 of Psycho Beasts

He arched a dark eyebrow and chuckled like he found his son’s menacing scowl cute. “I have scheduled meetings with suitable alpha packs for all of you. You will each begin meeting with the different—”

Cobra held up his hand and cut off his father. “No. We have a pack. I will bond with the alphas and omega at this table.”

Jaws dropped.

Xerxes turned and stared at Cobra like he’d never seen him before.

Jax sighed heavily and rubbed his hands across his eyes like he wasn’t surprised.

I’d bet all my money they’d discussed it last night, and Jax had advised Cobra to ask us like a civilized person.

Instead, Cobra just squinted at all of us like he was daring someone to disagree.

No one said anything.

Sweat dripped down my pits and streaked uncomfortably across my rib cage.

They legit couldn’t bond with me. Not only was I apparently a wanted half-breed, but also, what?

This wasn’t good.

I rubbed my clammy palms across my leggings.

Cobra wasn’t dumb, and he’d definitely realized the situation. I tried to make eye contact with him and shake my head, but he purposely didn’t look my way.

This was too much, too fast.

Not only was my entire existence apparently frowned upon (honestly, no one was surprised), but a pack seemed like a big deal.

My intuition told me it wasn’t a platonic relationship.

Moon goddess, I was still a virgin.

Never forget the fact that they were overbearing assholes who called me a possession and made me want to tear out my hair half the time.

How did one politely blurt out that they didn’t want to bond without offending people?

At the same time, the thought of bonding with strangers made my skin crawl. I couldn’t imagine not spending my days with them, no matter how difficult some of the days were.

But still, bonds were for an immortal’s life; that much I knew for sure.

“Good, then it’s settled. We’ll form the bond now. Cut your palm and hold it up to the man next to you. Pass the knife around. You all must mix blood,” the don ordered.

Shockingly, Cobra obeyed and held his bloody palm up to Xerxes, who sat beside him.

We seriously were going to do this right now?

Didn’t anyone want five minutes to think it over? Make a pros-and-cons list, cry dramatically into their pillow, attempt to drown themselves in the bathtub, fight the don to the death?

There were still options.

Xerxes stared at Cobra for a long moment, then turned his head to me.

Suddenly, he took the butcher knife, slashed his palm, and slapped it against Cobra’s open cut.

I groaned.

This was what happened when men refused to deal with their emotions.