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As soon as I open the door, I smell oranges again. This time, it’s not elusive. I look around. There are two women here. Both have their backs to me. I move towards the girl standing closer to me in the pencil skirt. Her banana scent screams beta and tries to smother the oranges but fails.
I frown. Why is the scent so subtle, and who is it coming from? I discreetly inhale and glance around. Fuck it, I don’t care.
“Excuse me?”
The girl turns, looks me up and down, and almost dismisses me. The smallest hint of air moves towards her, and she stiffens, her eyes dilating. Across the room, the other woman is watching us carefully.
“I’m looking for blankets and pillows.”
She lifts her arm and points. I move stiffly away from her, waiting to see what she will do. I hear the bell and realise the two of us are alone. I groan.
She rushes after me, pressing close, invading my space. I resist the urge to snarl. I listen to her for exactly three minutes, and then I politely but firmly send her away, my mind already on something else: The fact that every blanket and pillow is covered in that orange scent.
It takes all of my self control not to buy the entire store. I force myself to stop at two blankets and three pillows and almost snarl at the poor girl when she tries to take them from me.
A chill goes up my spine as I lift a blanket to my nose, drawing the scent into my lungs. Who does this scent belong to?
All my purchases are put away. The fridge and cupboards are full. The new curtains are hung. But I keep pacing in the small space between my bed and the door, eyeing that pile of blankets and pillows.
That scent.
It’s destroying all my control. I should spray them or wash them. I have scent blockers and deodorisers. But I can’t bring myself to do it. I let out a shriek of frustration, kick off my flats, pull on my trainers, and storm out of the cottage.
At this rate, I’ll be running marathons.
This time, when I get to the top of the little hill to view the manor, I study it with more caution. Who is this pack? What will they think of having me close to them?
I push myself to a brutal pace, running myself harder and faster. The world is a blur; and the air is crisp and cool against my hot skin. The track narrows, the ground so hard under my trainers. I throw myself round the corner and collide with something big. I bounce back, tripping, and land hard. The hard body of a man lands on top of me, making me wheeze, and my world explodes into oranges.
It’s so rich and potent that my mouth waters. My nipples tighten and I, with shock, feel myself grow wet. A wave of heat turns my blood thick and slow. I feel a growl growing in my chest even as my hands rise to grip his hips and hold them still.
I open my eyes and find a pair of the most attractive chocolate eyes staring at me. They have only the faintest hint of brown in their depths, appearing so dark as to be black. Shaggy black hair hangs over sharp cheekbones, an angled jaw, and full, perfect lips. He looks stunned, and I instantly want to know what he looks like after a night of sex. The scent intensifies, wrapping around me, and I groan. His eyes snap to my lips, and I see his pulse speed up even faster. His eyes dilate and darken until they are just pools of black. Oranges turn even sweeter.
Omega. My mind purrs the word. Mine. Terrifying and victorious, my feelings hit one end of the emotional rollercoaster and twang right back.
“Alpha,” his voice goes straight into my soul. Deep, mellow, smooth like silk.
I exhale, feeling the rightness of this moment.
This is what I was missing. This is what I didn’t have. I’ve never felt like this before, never met anyone who turned down the sounds of the world as a mere murmur. If this is what they felt, then I can maybe, kinda understand. This is incredible. Hope and happiness unfurl. I need to touch him. I lift a hand and sense motion, whipping my head just a fraction slower than he does. My whole body freezes as agony sears me. My lips part, and I let out a strangled sound. I trace the bond marks on his neck. Silver rings of teeth imprinted into his skin.
Plural.
He has a pack. Of fucking course he has a pack. My hands fall back to the ground. My world builds and crumbles in an instant. Something I didn’t even know I wanted is now firmly out of reach. An impossible dream. He has a pack, and I won’t be the person to destroy that.
The devastation inside me is like nothing I’ve ever known. I feel like this might be a blow I might never recover from. I taste bitter ash on my tongue as I try to make sense of it.
It takes me a moment to see the dark blur of someone approaching us. His alpha, I’m sure.
“Get off me.” I put the bark into my command, and he instantly rolls off me but doesn’t move far away. He looks hurt that I did that. Good, it hurt me to do it.
I stand up. I take a step away from him. It’s almost painful. Every instinct wants me to go to him, wipe that sadness off his face. Tell him it’s okay. Take care of him. I lick my bottom lip, and my eyes flicker to the huge male standing in the shadows and back to my stunned omega.
Not mine! I scream at myself.
The other alpha is standing in the treeline watching me curiously. I haven’t got his scent yet, but I don’t care, I can’t. This is too embarrassing, devastating.
I whirl and run back the way I came, refusing to slow even when I get to the cottage. I run straight inside, closing the door and backing as far away from it as I can.
