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Or, in really serious cases, scent-sensitive mates.
That word sinks through my middle, clicking into the place where my Omega likes to huddle down.
Mate.
There was a time, years ago, when a group of strong, sexy mates swooping in to rescue me was my literal dream. A secret hope I never even had the courage to admit in my own head.
Could this be… that?
My brain loops as fast as my heart pounds. And I don’t know much, but I know there’s only one way to test the insane theory that’s taken root in my mind.
So I breathe.
And he’s perfect.
Summertime, without the heat. Fresh-cut grass, young mint leaves, the faint brush of orange blossoms.
It’s lush and cool. A shaded hammock, maybe.
Or a dew-damp garden just before sunrise.
It’s more than how good he smells, though. It’s a feeling. A memory I don’t really have, but loved to pretend I did. A fantasy that kept me sane in the darkest moments.
And the fact that this alpha’s scent immediately brings me back to the only peace I’ve known in years feels like it means something.
My body reacts first. A deep, sucking sensation yanks his scent from the bottom of my lungs, pulling it so far into me that I don’t know where it goes. I gasp, dizzy from it, needing more. A high-pitched whine scales up my throat.
The more I breathe, the less control I have. My quivers turn into outright spasms. Everything below my navel contracts on a painful pulse of emptiness, then gels in a way I’ve never experienced.
It feels wet and hot. Like melting wax, only more slippery. Sliding out of me, into the thin red strap where most people would probably have panties.
The space around me tilts and blurs. My gaze loses focus, going dark at the edges. My perfume—the true, sharply sweet, richly creamy version—floods our small room.
Through my soupy tunnel of vision, I can only focus long enough to make out the alpha I thought might be an exception to all my rules.
Lunging right at me, with his teeth bared to bite.
chapter
six
Dear God.
This incessant buzzing.
Make it stop.
I know I should answer. There are only three people who can call me when I have my phone in work mode.
Avery, who has never called any of us, ever.
Jonah, who would simply barge in here if he needed me.
And Tris.
My older brother, who also happens to be the biggest pain in my ass. If we hadn’t formed this pack together, I swear I would have submitted him as a research subject by now.
Would it be fair? Likely not. God knows he’s the sane one between the two of us. He carries this pack on his shoulders most days.
