Page 91 of Written in Scent

“I know,” he rasps, forehead pressed to mine. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide. “I want you so fucking bad right now. But not here. Not like this. Not our first time.”

He kisses me again, slower this time, deep and claiming, but the hunger is still there, simmering just beneath the surface. His hands keep moving, stroking my sides, my back, my hips, like he can’t stop touching me. I feel every inch of him pressed against me, hard and hot and wanting.

When we finally pull apart, both of us are flushed and breathing hard. Chase rests his forehead against mine, eyes closed, hands still gripping my waist like he’s afraid I might disappear.

“Jesus,” he mutters, voice wrecked. “You make it really hard to be patient.”

I laugh, shaky and breathless, and lean into him. The sun has almost disappeared behind the valley, painting everything in deep twilight purple. The overlook feels like our own private world.

We stay pressed together against the bike for a long moment, breathing each other in while the last light of sunset fades from the valley. My lips feel swollen and tingling.

Chase’s hands are still on my waist, thumbs stroking circles over my sweater like he can’t quite let go yet. The wind has cooled, but the heat between us lingers, humming under my skin.

I pull back just enough to look up at him. His dark eyes are still heavy with want, but there’s something softer there now too. I trace one finger along the edge of his leather jacket and ask the question that has been sitting in my chest since our argument last night.

“Will you always struggle this much with your protectiveness around me?”

Chase exhales slowly. He rests his forehead against mine, eyes closing for a second like he’s gathering his words. When he speaks, his voice is low and rough around the edges.

“It’s harder right now because we’re not bonded yet. The instinct is louder. If we form a mate bond, it will settle. I’ll still be protective, because I’m an alpha and that part of me is never going to change. But it won’t feel like I’m fighting myself every single second.”

He opens his eyes and looks at me, really looks at me. The vulnerability in his gaze steals my breath.

“You mean everything to me, Elodie. I know I come on too strong sometimes. I know I scared you last night when I lost it about the window. But the thought of anything happening to you… it terrifies me. I’ve spent years learning how to help animals who can’t protect themselves. And now there is you. My omega. My scent match. The one person I want to keep safe more than anything in the world. I am scared every day that I won’t be enough. That I will fail you the way I sometimes feel I failed the animals who didn’t make it.”

His voice cracks on the last words, just slightly. I reach up and cup his face with both hands, thumbs brushing over the stubble on his jaw.

“You’re enough,” I whisper. “You’re more than enough. I see you, Chase. The way you are with the animals, the way you came running the second Noodle needed help. I see how much you care. I’m not going anywhere.”

He leans into my touch, eyes closing again like my words are a balm. Then he kisses me, lingering and full of everything we haven’t said out loud. It’s not the heated frenzy from earlier. This kiss is tender, almost reverent, like he’s promising me something with his mouth that words can’t quite reach.

When we pull apart, he rests his chin on top of my head and holds me close.

“I’ll swing by again tomorrow to check on Noodle,” he murmurs against my hair. “Make sure she is still improving. And Elodie… Thank you for giving me a chance tonight. Even after I was an ass.”

I smile into his chest. “I will always give you a chance. Even when you’re being an ass.”

He chuckles, the sound relieved. We stay like that for another long minute, wrapped up together while the valley grows dark below us. Then he helps me back onto the bike, fastening my helmet with deft fingers and pressing one last lingering kiss to my palm before we ride home.

The wind feels different on the way back, less wild and more like a gentle goodbye to the day. I hold on to Chase a little tighter than I need to, heart full and hopeful in a way I didn’t expect when this date began.

By the time he drops me at my dorm and watches me walk safely inside, I already know I will be counting down the hours until I get to see him again. All of him. The gruff protector and the gentle softie and everything in between.

I step out of the archives into the gray afternoon light and pull my cardigan a little tighter around me. The sky hangs low and heavy, a gloomy overcast that threatens rain but never quite delivers.

Damp leaves cling to the edges of the walkway, and the air carries that cool, earthy scent of fall. Most people hurry past with hoods up or umbrellas ready, but the weather doesn’t touch my mood today.

I walk leisurely toward the main lecture halls, still wrapped in the afterglow from last night with Chase. The memory of his big hands bottle feeding kittens, the way he softened completely around the animals, and the heated kisses at the overlook keep replaying in my mind.

Noodle’s doing much better too. The antibiotics and fluids have worked their magic, and she was already demanding breakfast this morning with her usual bossy attitude. The relief of knowing she’s safe and recovering sits comfortably in my chest alongside everything else.

Only a week ago my life felt split in two. My studies on one side, bright and demanding, and the sudden pull of the pack on the other, confusing and overwhelming. Now those two parts no longer feel like they’re fighting each other.

The dates with Adrian and Jamie showed me that joy and passion could live alongside my love of research. Chase’s protectiveness, even when it frustrated me, came from a place of deep care. And when Noodle got sick, I didn’t hesitate. I reached for them instinctively, and they came.

I feel balanced. My notebooks and pinned specimens still matter deeply to me. But so do all of the nuances of each of the four alphas that are becoming so dear to me. The pack isn’t taking anything away from who I am. They’re simply becoming part of it.

The gloomy sky and the damp wind don’t dim the happiness blooming inside me. If anything, they make my mood feel even brighter by comparison. I adjust the strap of my bag and continue walking toward the Research Methods lecture hall, my heart feeling light.