Miles made a sound of disgust. "That's not just wrong, it's cruel. Forcing incompatible scents together doesn't create adaptation—it creates misery."
"Have you ever been around other Alphas long enough to notice their scent?" Julian asked quietly. "In any context?"
I considered the question, thinking back through years of carefully supervised interactions. "Only briefly. At formal events, always with my parents present." I paused, remembering. "Most of them made me feel...uncomfortable. On edge."
"How so?" Nicolaus pressed, his clinical interest evident.
"Sharp. Aggressive. Like they were trying to overwhelm rather than communicate." I struggled to find the right words. "It felt like being shouted at, even when they weren't speaking."
Christopher nodded knowingly. "Dominant posturing. Some Alphas think projecting maximum aggression makes them more appealing."
"It's the opposite of what scenting should be," Julian said, his voice carrying a note of disdain. "True compatibility isn't about dominance—it's about harmony."
"What does it feel like when it's right?" I asked, then immediately regretted the question. It was too personal, too revealing of my ignorance.
But Julian didn't seem put off by my curiosity. If anything, his expression softened. "Like coming home," he said simply. "Like recognition at a level deeper than conscious thought."
Miles nodded in agreement. "It should feel safe. Calming. Not overwhelming."
I found myself leaning forward slightly, drawn in despite myself. "And if there's no compatibility?"
"Then there's no point in proceeding," Nicolaus stated matter-of-factly. "No amount of negotiation or financial incentive can overcome biological incompatibility."
I absorbed his words, trying to reconcile them with everything I'd been taught. The idea that scent compatibility could overrule family arrangements and financial considerations seemed almost revolutionary.
"My parents never mentioned that as a factor," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.
Julian's expression darkened slightly. "I'm not surprised. It would introduce an element they can't control."
"Would you..." I hesitated, gathering my courage. "Would you want to know if we're compatible? Now?"
The question hung in the air between us. I watched as the four men exchanged glances, another silent communication passing between them.
"Only if you're comfortable with it," Julian finally said, his voice gentle but serious. "Scenting should always be consensual."
"I am," I said, surprising myself with my certainty. "I want to know."
Julian nodded, then rose from his chair with fluid grace. He moved around the table until he stood beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him, but not so close that I felt trapped.
"May I?" he asked, extending his hand.
I nodded, my heart hammering against my ribs as he carefully took my hand in his. His fingers were warm, calloused in places. These were working hands, strong and certain.
"I'll keep this simple," Julian explained, his voice low and reassuring. "Just a basic scent exchange. Nothing invasive."
He lifted my wrist gently, bringing it near—but not touching—his neck, where his scent would be strongest. In return, he leaned slightly closer to my own pulse point, inhaling slowly.
The moment his scent reached me, everything changed.
It wasn't the sharp, aggressive tang I'd grown accustomed to from other Alphas. Instead, Julian's scent washed over me like warm cloves and something deeper—clean rain on summer earth, with an undertone of something uniquely him that I couldn't name but recognized instantly. My body relaxed without my permission, tension I hadn't even realized I was carrying melting from my shoulders.
"Oh," I breathed, the sound escaping before I could stop it.
Julian's eyes widened slightly as he caught my scent in return. His grip on my wrist tightened almost imperceptibly, and I watched something shift in his expression—surprise, recognition, and something warmer that made my pulse flutter.
"Well," he said quietly, his voice rougher than before. "That's... unexpected."
"Good unexpected or bad unexpected?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
