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“That over there,” he says, pointing to a tidy looking park near the base of the mountain, his voice suddenly flat, “used to be another maunga called Takararo, but it ended up in non-Māori hands and was quarried by Pākehā, and the scoria was used for building walls and manmade waterways.”

I don’t really know what the right response to that is—I don’t think there is an easy response when someone tells you something so sacred was destroyed by colonisers—and so I nod silently, listening as he describes how his work as a lawyer intersects with history. “Most of my clientele these days are Māori, and it’s all post-Treaty settlement business.”

There’s a cool enough breeze blowing here at the peak, but even so, the sun is ridiculously hot. A particularly tinny rendition of Greensleeves warbles somewhere in the distance, and Matiu pats my thigh, pointing out the ice cream truck on the street below. “I’d say that’s a sign. Let’s go get ice cream.”

We lick at our dripping soft serves as we walk back to Matiu’s place. I give him the last third of my waffle cone and he finishes it in two bites, his teeth grazing my fingers, a small reminder that he’s a very tall, very big alpha, with an equally large appetite. “I’m glad I didn’t have to walk all the way with a melting cone,” I tell him. “The double was too ambitious on my part.”

“I can’t blame you, it’s good stuff.”

“Yeah, but you should have let me pay.”

“Nope.”

“I’m going to have to next time! None of this my shout business. I’m onto you, I’ve figured out what it means now.”

He laughs, and says something in reply, but I’m no longer listening. There’s a couple ahead of us taking their orange Pomeranian for a walk. I smile at the two men as they pass by, thankful that my oversized sunglasses hide the tears in my eyes. The dog looks so much like Coco, and while I think about her every day, the sudden wave of grief over the fact that I don’t get to have her with me every day is overwhelming.

“You okay?”

I nod slowly and point at the little dog, now off in the distance. “I used to have a dog just like that. I miss her.”

He nods with understanding, and I know I should clarify that she’s still alive, just not with me, but despite the fact that it’s been three years, I’m still so raw from the situation that I can’t bring myself to speak of it. Matiu wraps his arm around me and kisses the top of my head. “Scott has a dog,” he says. “A border collie called Barry. I told him that wouldn’t be a problem for you.”

Hearing that Scott has a dog is an instant dopamine boost. “It’s definitely not a problem.”

Chapter Seven

Lizzie

The sun sits low in the sky when Matiu and I hear a car pull up in the driveway outside.

“I’m nervous,” I admit as we slip our shoes on at the front door. I spoke to Scott briefly on the phone today while he was driving up, and it was good, the conversation flowed well enough given the situation, but it still hasn’t eased the butterflies in my stomach.

“Don't be.” He grabs my wrist as I reach for the doorknob and pulls me against his chest, burying one hand in my hair so that he can deliver a quick and bruising kiss. With a short rumbling purr, he rubs his cheek against mine, then down the column of my neck, scent marking me. His wrists, where further scent glands lie, press firmly down my back and over my ass, leaving me enveloped in his alpha pheromones.

“Well that’s going to send a message.” I laugh, lifting my own wrist to his face. “Here. Let me mark you back.” I sweep my wrist over his cheek and down his neck, touching the inside of his elbow, his wrist, his chest over his heart. Pulse points. The tension in him eases slightly under my fingers.

“I’m going to let Scott have his turn at getting to know you,” he says. “And it’s fine. I'm an alpha. I can share. But I'm not gonna lie—the thought of not having you in my bed tonight is driving me a little crazy.”

I take his hand, bringing it to my lips, kissing his knuckles gently. This is the reality that all the magazines and omega influencers on social media gloss over. Forming a pack isn’t always easy. Having multiple partners takes care and effort, and in the early days, the onus is always on the omega to balance everyone's needs. Everyone should do their best to exist within a pack peacefully, but that’s not realistically how things play out most of the time. People are messy, there’s growing pains and personality clashes, and in my experience, alphas sometimes get too much in their heads about the whole thing.

Navigating pack life is a skill that comes naturally to me now—it has ever since I revealed as an omega—but there were years before that, back when I lived with my old pack as a beta, where moments of tension flared and I didn’t know what to do. Then again, in hindsight there were a lot of things that were wrong with my old pack.

“I promise you,” I say to Matiu, “we’ll share a bed again soon, but you're right, it probably won't be tonight. Who knows, maybe there'll be a time soon when I have you both?” His lips twitch with the slightest hint of a smile, and I’ve almost forgotten why we’re standing in the front entrance, but then a car door slams shut, disturbing the moment.

Matiu opens the front door and gestures for me to step out first. “You'll be all good.”

“Thanks,” I whisper.

I don’t really know what I was hoping for, but the way Scott’s face lights up in the friendliest of grins the moment he spots me exceeds my expectations and immediately eases my nerves.

“Lizzie!”

“Hi! You must be Scott.”

A breeze ruffles his brown hair as he walks towards me, blowing his scent in my direction, all pine and sea salt, like a coastal forest on a cool day.

He’s perfect.