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I’m glad I warned Aleks against following after me because, as I let myself into the apartment, Ryker’s scent is everywhere.
It’s not as pungent as his marking outside of Charlie’s which is good because that means he didn’t feel like upping his… whatever he’s doing… by peeing in my apartment. Of course, the markers of his scent just tells me that he went with a little B&E instead.
He’s been in here. The front door was locked, so I know he didn’t break in this way.
Ugh. The balcony.
Of course.
Though his pine-and-spice scent overlays the whole damn apartment, I open my mouth just enough to taste it. In close quarters, I can snuffle my nose, tasting a scent and tracing it.
Why am I not surprised to find that he headed straight to my room?
It’s hard to tell if he’s still in there. The hairs on my arm are sticking straight up, my entire body aware of his presence. Either he was just here—which makes sense since he couldn’t have had much of a head start on me—or he’s waiting for me. Neither option really appeals to me, and I can only guess how he found the apartment. To beat me here, no way he followed me… unless he already tracked me to the building.
Just like he tracked me to Mea Culpa.
My hand freezes on the doorknob to my room. How, I wonder. How can he do that? Between the chamomile tea and Aleks’s fang, I don’t smell like me so it’s not like he can use his snout.
But, as my mate, he wouldn’t need to use my scent trail to chase me down. At any time after I became his intended—so after the Alpha Ceremony at the being of last year—he could follow the bond stretched between us right to me.
It doesn’t work for me, but that makes sense. These days, my half of the bond is a memory.
What if his isn’t?
He’s never given me any indication before now that he even feels it. Does he?
I wish I fucking knew.
I also wish I didn’t have to deal with this.
I shake my head, giving my doorknob a turn so rough, I nearly break it off.
No. There’s got to be another explanation. Maybe some alpha skill that no one’s taught me because I’ve always presented as an omega. It has to be that. Otherwise, if I accept that Ryker could’ve used the bond to find me all these months, that begs the question: why hasn’t he?
Why now?
I don’t know, and after the night I’ve had, I’m pretty fucking sure I don’t want to.
I shove my bedroom door in.
Then, as if I can’t believe what I’m seeing, I stare.
Welp. He’s definitely been in here. Not only that, but he’s left a couple of things behind.
There, placed neatly in the middle of my messy bed, is a bouquet of wildflowers wrapped with a ribbon the same deep honey color as my eyes. Their sweet scent and colorful array draw my attention, but they can’t compete with the second scent wafting its way over to me.
Holy shit. He brought me a slice of sausage and onion pizza. One of those massive ones you get when you buy it by the slice instead of ordering a whole pie. It’s spread out on two flimsy paper plates, a pile of napkins tucked underneath it, a plume of smoke rising up from the melted cheese like it’s just been pulled from the oven.
My stomach grumbles. As a shifter, I’m always down to eat and, whether he knew or he just got real fucking lucky, Ryker’s left me a piece of pizza with my favorite toppings on it.
Shame I can’t eat it.
I can keep the flowers. There’s no deeper meaning behind them other than they’re pretty and Ryker’s probably trying to fool me into thinking he has good intentions. But the food? They blow his ‘good’ intentions out of the water.
No matter his reasons—and, from everything I’ve learned about Ryker Wolfson over the last eleven years, I’m sure he has his reasons—he’s made it clear since he arrived in Muncie that he sees me as his mate. Bringing food to another shifter isn’t just a kindness. It’s a gesture that says: I will protect you, I will feed you, and you’ll want for nothing if I’m around.
If I accept it, I’m basically saying: okay.
