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“Oh, damn, I’m running late.” She texts fast. Then drops her phone in her bag as she scoops it up. “Nice meeting you. I have to run.”

And with that she takes off.

I rush out of the boathouse after her. “Your name?” I call, but she’s already disappearing into the wilder edges of the park.

She’s gone.

Well, fuck.

I kick the ground and notice something. Purple.

A ribbon.

I pick it up, press it to my nose, and breathe in. It smells faintly of flowers and detergent. Of her.

I can give it back to her at the ball.

It’ll be fun stalking little Miss Cinderella there.

One ball this Season.

That’s it.

Just one.

CHAPTER

SEVEN

Violet

As I get home, I ease the side door closed and head to the back stairs, hoping to shower before dinner.

“Violet!”

I jump at Heath’s call. I’m not sure why I’m so jumpy, why my heart’s a little wild and thready, but I guess it’s because I haven’t snuck in since…I don’t even know when.

Holding my breath, I try and put the scruffy-faced, hot stranger from my head. But my mind is buzzing like it’s holding a swarm of angry bees. Panic rises.

Calm down, Vi.

Calm.

I breathe.

He had a nice voice: a touch of velvet, a touch of smoke, a touch of gravel, and even a touch of something unexpectedly warm.

And his scent… Oak.

A girl could swoon over that. Alphas and Omegas tend to be on the natural side when it comes to their scents, and he smelled like his voice. Smoke on a cold day, yes, like oak. A deep, earthy, rich scent, the wood charred to release more of the essence, and a slightly sweet edge that makes it somehow more masculine, like something to bury my face into. A sweater by the fire on a winter’s evening. Comfort.

To smell like that must cost a fortune. More than we can afford nowadays.

I think he’s?—

“There you are, Violet. Didn’t you hear me?” Heath appears in the doorway, frowning as I kick my bag behind me, but he doesn’t comment on that. “We need to talk.”

I start to shake. “Talk?”