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“Do they breed dogs too?”

“Sometimes. You have more control over what you’re getting in terms of temperament. Barry’s father was one of my dad’s champion dogs.”

“Does he try to herd animals, then?”

“Yep. Mainly me. If I’m working too late at home he’ll boss me to bed. So yeah, he’s very smart. Cheeky, too. What have you got there, mate?” he asks as Barry trots up with a stick so long and large it could almost be classified as a log.

“He looks very pleased with himself.”

“Oh he is, aren’t ya, bud? We can’t take that home, though. It stays on the beach. Here, take this one instead.” He picks up a more reasonably-sized stick and tosses it, sending Barry off after it. To me, Scott says, “I’m so fucking glad you’re a dog person.”

“I’m so fuckin’ glad you have a dog. I love him.”

We walk the length of the beach, the first stars twinkling in the sky as I climb atop a rock near the southern cliff face, holding onto Scott’s hand for balance. The rock offsets our height difference, so that I’m standing ever so slightly taller than him as he steps close, his hands now on my waist. “Hey,” he says, as if he hasn’t been charming me all evening with his easygoing nature and slightly goofy sense of humour. He’s not as big as Matiu in either height or bulk, but he’s still an alpha, still tall, still muscular, still large enough to make me feel dainty even though that’s not a word I’d use to describe myself these days.

“Hi.”

“Am I allowed to kiss you?”

Pine and salt fill my nose, the scent of him making me more tipsy than the wine I had earlier. His fingers dance just under the hem of my shirt, a tickle against my skin that seems to echo through me, setting off a cascade of reactions. I shiver, but it’s not from the cool ocean breeze. My nipples ache, slick pooling in my underwear, and only one thing will satisfy me.

“Yes.”

I let out a breathy sound, somewhere between humour and frustration, as the first brush of his lips is to my cheek rather than my mouth. “Tease,” I whisper, my hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt, a whimpered omega whine slipping from my throat as his stubbled jaw paints his scent down the length of my neck.

“I’ve just gotta make it even,” he says, his voice low, his lips pressing just under my ear. “You need to smell like both of your alphas.”

I know that there’s some omegas that balk at the possessiveness of alphas, but I’m not one of them, his words only increasing the ache in my core. I’m not embarrassed by the fresh gush of slick that I know he can smell, my perfume thick in the air. He pulls me flush against him, and I bite my lip at the thick bar of his cock against my thigh.

He and Matiu have the same playbook, I realise, his hand gripping my hair near the scalp, tilting my head just so, his mouth slotting over mine perfectly. Everything about this kiss is perfect—the small, needy sound he makes in his throat, the way his tongue curls over mine, his hand on my ass pulling me impossibly closer. Even the setting is perfect, a clear evening on a stunning beach, the stars glimmering like jewels above us.

When we finally break our kiss, the beach is near-empty, almost all of the dog walkers gone. Barry butts Scott’s leg impatiently, and Scott rolls his eyes.

“See? Told ya, he herds me to bed. You want me home, eh mate? Can’t have Dad turning into a pumpkin.”

“What would that make me, if you’re the pumpkin?”

“Cinderella, except she’s got a business card and a suit jacket instead of those shoes.”

I shake my head, jumping down onto the sand. “I think that would make you Cinderella. I’m the prince that found the missing clothing.”

“Well either way, I’m very glad I left my clothing behind for you to find. Who knew? A decade wasted on a dating app, and all I needed to do was leave a scent breadcrumb trail for you to follow.”

We walk hand-in-hand in companionable silence, the sky growing darker by the minute, Barry walking ahead and then circling back to us often, herding his humans home.

“You might already have plans with Matiu for the night, but…” Scott starts.

“I don’t. He knows it’s your turn.”

He makes a scoffing noise. “Does he now? That’s kind of him.”

“It’s kind to me.”

I can feel the weight of his eyes on me at that comment, can practically hear the gears turning in his mind, and it’s not really surprising when he asks, “Have you had a pack before?” He’s a lawyer, of course he’s smart enough to read between the lines.

I nod, and then add “Yeah,” because I’m not sure if he can even see the movement at this point. “Four alphas, and me.”

“That’s a lot of alphas.”