Page 4 of A Nest of Maple & Mist

But then I smelled it.

It wasn’t the rot of the house or the misty air.

No, instead, a wave of pure, concentrated heaven washed over me.

Sweet, golden maple syrup, thick vanilla bean, and a swirl of heavy cream. A scent so rich and sugary I tasted it on the back of my tongue.

It lit up inside me, making every nerve in my body come to life until I practically glowed with it. My alpha roared. The primal, possessive beast stirred, urging me to find the source of that decadence.

Then I saw her.

“Mi,” I breathed, the nickname leaving my lips before I even processed it.

She turned, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe.

A breathtaking vision greeted me.

Mia Birch.

Haloed by a mane of lush curls I wanted to bury my face in.

She’d always been a pretty girl. A freckled beauty who haunted my dreams. The girl next door. The girl who always stole my attention whenever she appeared. The girl who had been just out of reach.

An ethereal woman stood where the crooked-grin girl had once been.

Long chestnut curls framed her face in a wild, beautiful mess. A smattering of freckles danced over her pale face, making her sad smile all the more devastating.

Deep chocolate eyes blinked at me, swollen and swimming with tears. The sight cleaved my chest in two. It took all my willpower to restrain my alpha, to prevent me from lashing out and killing whoever brought my beautiful omega so much pain.

Streaks of pink colored the tip of her button nose and cheeks, her soft skin burned by the wind. Her slim shoulders shook with rattling breaths. She appeared so small, clutching a cardboard box like it was the holy grail.

Mine. The word echoed through my head, loud and insistent. My omega. My fucking scent match.

Something shifted, tugging at my core. The edges of my vision tunneled until all I saw was her.

For years, I wondered if this would ever happen. If our pack would ever find an omega. And here she was.

Sweet.

Stunning.

And fated.

People talked about them as if they were a myth. But I knew they were real. My little sister had found her scent-matched pack. It gave me hope.

Our pack had strength and soul, but we were missing our heart.

And here she was, standing in a pile of mold and broken glass, smelling like sin and salvation.

She was ours.

Irrevocably.

Shane and Ty were going to lose their damn minds.

Shane, with all his regrets that he carried like a shroud. And Ty, who needed someone to nurture.

All that had to wait.