Page 52 of Pack Baby for the Silver Foxes

The violet again. The one note neither of us could explain away.

“That’s never happened before,” I said. “I’ve never smelled violet on me. Never smelled it on you. Never smelled it on an omega.”

“It wasn’t perfume.”

“I know it wasn’t perfume.”

“You said perfume at first.”

“I lied to myself. I’m allowed to have hobbies.”

His mouth softened into a smile.

I took a sip of the water and barely tasted it. “What is it?”

“I’ve heard people call it the hidden scent of a match.”

“People?”

“Older pack doctors. Omegas who believe in the old terms. Fated mates.”

The words should’ve sounded ridiculous in a glass office above London traffic.

They didn’t. They sounded like a door opening somewhere neither of us had meant to go.

“Fated mates,” I repeated.

Hudson said,. “That’s a bit dramatic.”

“So is smelling a woman four weeks after we leave the country.”

He came to stand beside me. For a while, we watched rain gather on the window, distort the city, and run down in thin silver lines.

“Are we that bothered that she’s twenty-one?” I asked.

Hudson exhaled slowly. “Yes.”

“Are we bothered enough to stay away?” I asked.

He didn’t answer quickly and that frightened me. I didn’t care for the pause either.

“What if she thinks we’re too old?” I said.

“Then we’ll accept it.”

“Will we?”

“We’ll have to.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

A muscle moved in his cheek. “No. I don’t know if I’ll accept it gracefully. I’ll accept it because she gets to choose, but I don’t know if there’ll be anything graceful about it.”

The honesty settled between us, heavy and clean.

I leaned my shoulder against the glass. “So should we go to Boston?”

“We already have the conference follow-up.”