“Maybe.” Her gaze dips down to my lap, and I wonder if she’s also remembering how it felt when she straddled me. Her eyes were shut as she climbed over the console, but her movements had been smooth, determined. She’d radiated need, but she’d also seemed in control, and it felt perfectly natural to tilt my head back so she could latch onto my scent gland. The only surprise had been when she drew a purr out of me that I didn’t even know I possessed. “My heat is still a couple of months off. But I hope to have something in place for that.”
There’s a hint of fear in her voice, and I jerk my head up.What does that mean?Sedation? Some omegas resort to drugsfor painful heats. Or is she going to ask her ex? My lip curls at the thought of him getting his hands on her again, but would that be any worse than one of those heat facilitation services? Nothing sits right with me, the skin on my nape tingling as I imagine her with some faceless pack. I want to ask for more details, but I can tell she's at her limit – plus, it’s not really any of my business, anyway.
Then make it your business,my less patient side argues.
“Control is something I know a lot about,” I tell her, watching closely for her reaction. “It’s part of who I am.”
“Because you work in security?”
“I'm actually an accountant.” I smile at her raised eyebrows. While I safeguard all of Corbus’ interests, physical protection isn’t really my calling. I do that because I care, while numbers are my trade. I like them because they’re efficient, disciplined, and logical. For a man who has the ability to level a room with a command, I’ve always tried to keep my work environment as emotion-free as possible. “I mean my nature, not what I do for work. Have you heard of uber alphas before?”
She blinks. “Like the super soldiers in comics?”
I’m relieved to see she’s more bemused than afraid. “I guess some of us are like that. We have enhanced senses and are usually more dominant than other alphas, so the military is a good fit. But I don’t use it like that.”
“It. You mean, your control?”
I nod, since control is a better word than beast. “I don’t know what you’re going through exactly, but one of my mom’s packmates was unbonded. He joined our family a long time after it happened, but he’d lean on me now and then, when he was feeling shaky.”
“Lean on you.” She thinks about that for a moment, and I can hear the relief creeping into her voice. “Like I did earlier?”
Not like that at all.But I don’t have the heart to say that her reaction to me was more about primal attraction than comfort. I also don’t mention how I can still feel her curves clinging to my lap, and that my scent gland is still tingling from the way she worshiped it with her mouth.
She gives her head a little shake, making her hair brush her pink cheeks. “I don’t know anything about uber alphas, but I really like your scent. It reminds me of reading an old book in a cozy chair. Ink and leather, right?”
“Mmm.” That’s how Dash describes it, usually when his tongue is writing love notes on my skin. I suddenly picture Kate’s lips pressed to other parts of my body, and I grip the wheel tighter to stop myself from squirming.Where’s that famous control now, Webber?“And what about your scent?”
She bites her lip, that pretty glow fading from her face. “I don’t really have one any more. I’m guessing you can smell the suppressants… They have a chalky, vanilla scent. It’s not the best, but if I wasn’t using them, you’d probably want to roll the windows down.”
I remember Simon, my mom’s packmate, saying something similar when I first met him. He actually apologized for his bitter scent, even though he was slathered in suppressants. I’d caught a similar scent from Kate in the hotel ballroom, and it had taken me straight back to that breakfast table conversation when Simon explained that he’d lost his honeyed almond scent when his ex broke their bond. I’d argued that it wasn’t ‘lost’ if someone was careless enough to break it, and he’d almost melted into his chair. From that day on, I gave him honeyed almonds every birthday, and no one ever said a bad word about Simon without me making them regret it.
“What was your scent before the unbonding?” I ask as I pull into a parking spot near our house.
“Orange blossom,” she replies, regret thick in her voice. “I used to be so smug about the way I smelled, but I guess I’ve learned my lesson.”
Orange blossom?
I’m glad I’ve parked the car, because my mind is racing a million miles in every direction. I’m staring out the windshield, but I’m back in that conversation in the hotel bed. Dash was clearly besotted with his guardian angel, asking us how Kate smelled. I thought he meant the suppressants, but Corbus promptly compared her to the orange orchard at our estate in Spain. I’d wondered if he was just being kind towards Dash’s crush, but that can’t be it. Out of all the scents in the world, he choseorange blossom.
Because Corbus smelled her true scent.
Which can only mean…
“Bram?” Her soft hand touches the back of mine. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I jerk my head around to meet her worried gaze. Somehow, I manage to find a shred of my famous control, giving her a brittle smile as I point up at our house. “This is us.”
“Oh.” Her eyes go wide as she stares up at the building, and I use the distraction to slip out of the car and collect my scrambled brains off the road. Because I need to talk to Corbusnow.
I can feel the weight of Kate’s exhaustion as I guide her through the imposing front doors, her garment bag over my arm. I understand why she might be anxious about entering a strange packhouse at midnight, but she catches me off guard as she stops dead in the foyer. “Wow. Is that a Hildreth Meière mural?” She points to the glazed tiles on the wall, embossed with gold leaf. “It’s all so beautiful. How do you walk in here every day without tripping over your feet?”
I look around the marble entryway, taking in all the gleaming fixtures with new eyes. I didn’t grow up rich by any means, butI’ve been Corbus’ best friend for over a decade, and I’m ashamed to admit a lot of the beauty around me is just background scenery most of the time. “Yeah. It’s all Corbus. It was two separate co-ops when he bought it, but he always had a clear vision of what he wanted them to be.” I feel a flash of pride at the admiration on her face. “Style is second nature to Corbus.”
Which is something else they have in common.
“It’s still got so many original Art Deco features. I love it.”
She smiles as we cross to the elevator, and I’m relieved her curiosity has got the better of her anxiety. I rattle off all the architectural details I remember from the insurance reports, and she soaks them up like a hungry sponge. I could kick myself for not being able to answer half the questions she peppers me with, but I’m thrilled she’s so invested.Whatever it takes to get her safely inside and surrounded by our pack.
