"You know. Alpha weird. Territorial. Overprotective." He gestures vaguely. "Just normal human behavior would be nice."
"I'll do my best," I promise, and I mean it. Even if "normal human behavior" feels increasingly out of reach where Darren is concerned. I owe it to him for bailing the first time. I can't even remember what excuse I came up with, but the truth is, I didn't trust myself not to be every bit as weird as he's afraid I'll be tonight. I just assumed they wouldn't miss me. I wasn't counting on the others bailing, too.
Can't say if it was or wasn't for the same reason. Zayn probably bailed because he's a dick. Dimitri has always been harder to read. Either way, we owed our teammate—and this woman he's clearly got his heart set on bringing into our pack—better than what we gave that night.
We pull into the hotel's valet line, the sleek glass tower of The Terrace looming above us. A uniformed attendant opens my door, and I step out into the cool evening air, straightening my jacket. I went with dark jeans and a forest green button-down that my sister once told me brings out my eyes. Not that I'm trying to impress anyone.
Much.
Darren rounds the car, looking unfairly good in dark jeans and a charcoal shirt that stretches across his broad shoulders. The suppressants mask most of his scent, but there's still a hint of woodsmoke that catches in my throat when he passes close by.
"Ready?" he asks, checking his watch.
I nod, not trusting my voice. As we enter the lobby, my phone buzzes with a text from Jax.
JAX: Running 10 min late. Traffic. Keep things smooth until we get there.
Great. Just me and Darren and his potential... what? Girlfriend? Pack addition? The terminology feels inadequate for whatever this situation is.
The elevator ride to the top floor is silent, both of us lost in our own thoughts. When the doors slide open, a hostess greets us with a practiced smile.
"Good evening, gentlemen. Your party is waiting in the Blue Room."
She's already here. My pulse kicks up a notch as we follow the hostess through the main dining area. Darren walks with the easy confidence of someone used to commanding attention, while I trail behind, trying not to look as nervous as I feel.
The hostess leads us to a frosted glass door, sliding it open to reveal a private dining room with a view that could sell for millions. Glass walls that showcase the city spread out like diamonds below us. But it's not the view that catches my attention.
It's her.
She stands by the windows, her back to us, a curvy silhouette against the city lights. Reddish-brown hair falls in soft waves down her back, and the burgundy wrap dress she's wearing hugs curves that immediately make my mouth go dry.
Darren makes a small sound, something between appreciation and relief, and she turns.
Oh.
She's beautiful. Not in the iPhone-faced Instagram model way that Zayn usually goes for, but in a real, warm, touchable way that hits even harder. Big brown eyes, full lips, a scattering of freckles across her nose. When she smiles at Darren, herwhole face lights up, and I immediately understand why he's so taken with her.
"Lexie." Darren crosses the room in a few long strides, taking her hand in his. The familiarity of the gesture makes my soul ache. "You look amazing."
"Thanks." Her voice is warm, with a slight huskiness that's oddly appealing. "So do you."
They stare at each other for a moment, and I feel like an intruder witnessing something private. Then Darren steps back, gesturing to me.
"This is Aidan McKinney, our rookie goalie and one of my packmates."
I step forward, extending my hand. "Nice to meet you."
And that's when it hits me.
Pumpkin spice.
Not artificial or cloying, but warm and intricate notes of cinnamon, nutmeg, and clove. The scent wraps around me like a blanket fresh from the dryer, familiar and warm and right in a way that makes my head spin.
Holy shit.
She's our scent match.
I freeze, my hand still extended, brain short-circuiting as I try to process what this means. Darren elbows me subtly, and I snap back to reality, taking her offered hand. Her skin is soft and warm against mine, and the contact sends a jolt up my arm that has nothing to do with static electricity.
