4
The hiss of the can opening barely registers before I put the beer to my lips. I’ve been sitting on the dock ever since I got back to my house, hoping the familiarity would help clear my head.
Scent match. That idiot in the pavement princess is my scent match.
Like most omegas, I dreamed of finding my scent matched pack when I was younger. The whole thing just seemed so romantic. A person or people who were made exactly for you? Swoon.
But now that I’m approaching thirty-three, it seems more like a pipe dream. And I was fine with that, truly. I love living on Lake Mixam in the house my grandfather left me.
I glance back at the gorgeous structure. It’s got a log cabin feel but is huge, with a nearly A-frame roof that goes up three stories. The wall facing the lake is floor to ceiling windows, even up to the tippy top. It’s too much house for one person, but it’s mine.
My peace is interrupted by the dulcet tones of… is that Barenaked Ladies? When I look toward the sound, a familiar boat comes into view.
“Oh. Oh, no.” It’s them. The bros from the boat launch. The hot ones.No, bad Zoe. Don’t think about them as hot.
I take another sip of my beer as I watch the boat angle toward me. No, not me—the house next door. The quaint craftsman that is used as a vacation rental. The one that shares a pier with mine. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.
It’s too hot and I’m too tired to deal with this right now. Instead, I chug the rest of my beer and crush the can before gathering my blanket and my little cooler. I need to get back in the house before they make it too close. My feet drag as I walk, a tug in my chest making me feel like I’m going the wrong direction. I glance over my shoulder one last time at them before slipping through the sliding glass door.
Dealing with them is a tomorrow problem. Or a never problem. Maybe I’ll just hide in my nest for the next week until they go home, and hope the scent of citrus and agave doesn’t haunt me for the rest of my life.
5
Scent match.
The words ring through my mind like a death knell. Okay, maybe that’s a little bit dramatic. But if what Deacon says is true, then our lives are about to change drastically.
Unless she wants nothing to do with us, the negative voice in the back of my head taunts me. No. Not thinking like that. She helped us at the ramp, I’m sure she wouldn’t have done that if she hated us. But she didn’t seem to react to our scents. Maybe she wasn’t close enough? Or maybe she was wearing some of that scent blocking cream you put under your nose or something? Fuck, I wish my brain wouldn’t spiral like this all the time.
“I can hear you overthinking from here,” Deacon calls out from the adirondack chair next to me. His eyes are still closed, but clearly he isn’t napping like I thought he was. We’re all exhausted, but the anticipation that we may have found our scent match has us too wired to sleep.
“What did she smell like again?” Jake asks.
“Like a fucking Bomb Pop, dude,” he sighs. “Cherry, blue raspberry, sugar, and summertime all rolled into one.”
“You sure you weren’t just hallucinating, eager for the festivities to start?” I can’t help but tease him.
He gives me a wry look. “No, I’m not hallucinating, you idiot. At least, I don’t think I am. Though I swear I can smell traces of her on the breeze here, now.” His expression turns contemplative. “You think she lives here on the lake?”
“Maybe,” Jake shrugs. “She did seem like a local. I heard some of the guys calling out to her when she was leaving.”
A low growl splits the air and we both turn in shock toward our pack leader. Dee has the decency to look sheepish about his reaction. “Sorry, I’m not sure where that came from.” He shifts his hips then adjusts himself. One glance at his crotch and I know he’s hard as a rock.
I stand up and saunter over to Deacon. He eyes me warily, but I know just what he needs. When I get close enough, I reach out and drag a finger over his shoulder and down his chest. His abs tense under his tee shirt. “You look a little tense, baby,” I purr. I press my palms to his thighs, then push them open to make room for me before I drop to my knees. “Let me help you with that.”
Deacon sucks in a breath and tries to close his legs, but I hold firm. “Maverick,” he hisses, “We’re outside!”
I press a kiss to his knee, then shrug. “It’s dark out, who’s gonna see?” I reach up and flick open his shorts in a practiced move, but when I lean forward to pull them down over his ass, I smell it. Sugar. Cherry. Summer.
Fuuuuckkkk. I dive forward, nuzzling right into Dee’s crotch over the fabric. He lets out a small noise of surprise, then tries to shimmy back further in the chair. “Mav. What the fuck are you doing?”
I followhim so he can’t escape and inhale again. “I smell her, Dee. Fuck, you were right, she does smell like Bomb Pops. What are the fucking odds.”
Movement to my right startles me until I realize it’s only Jake. He drops to his knees beside me, shoving his face where mine just was to take a huge whiff. “Oh shit. Do you think some of her scent seeped into your clothes when you got in the truck after her?”
Deacon groans. “Maybe. That could be why it still feels like I can smell her here.”
His hips buck up subconsciously, looking for relief. Relief I’m happy to give him. I pull out his throbbing cock and waste no time, dragging the flat of my tongue over the ruddy head to lick up the mess of precum already spread there. Strong fingers glide along my scalp, gripping my hair tightly to drag me where he wants. I eagerly open, letting him thrust into my mouth until he hits the back of my throat, then keeps going. His other hand lands on my head as he begins to fuck my face in earnest.
