Cassidy
The drive to Silas’s house is quiet, but Harlan’s scent is so steady and content that my own anxiety feels louder.
He’s a careful driver, one hand loose on the wheel. No speeding, no rough turns. I quite like it.
Every now and then, I catch him glancing in my direction before looking back at the road, like he can’t quite help checking I’m still there, and it keeps giving me butterflies.
I still don’t actually know where we’re going. Technically, we’re going to Silas’s place, but I’ve never been before, and with everyone else already there…
This isn’t just visiting.
This is a meeting.
A horrible, awkward, everybody-sits-in-a-circle-and-talks-about-the-omega meeting.
Heat creeps up my neck as my stomach churns, my scent going sharp enough that I know Harlan notices. I wish I could blame motion sickness, but I know this is more than that.
I startle when a warm hand wraps around my thigh, and I look over at Harlan.
“I know you’re worried, little luxury, but I can promise that everything will be okay,” he says confidently, his thumb stroking once over my thigh as his scent warms around me.
I sigh, looking down at his hand, at the long fingers resting against my thigh like they belong there, wishing I had the courage to touch him.
“You can’t really promise that, though,” I admit.
He squeezes my leg. “No, I can. Not a single person is entering with bad intentions. Silas’s home is safe. So, unless the world literally explodes, nothing’s going to go badly.”
I half laugh, half whine.
“If anything goes wrong, or you’re panicking, let’s pick a word, and if you say it, I’ll discreetly remove us from the situation,” he says.
“Like… a safe word?” I ask, scrunching my nose up. “For a social situation?”
He grins, winking at me. “I’m a creative, Cassidy.”
I smile. “Um, maybe, um…”
“It’ll need to be a word you won’t be saying,” he teases. “Um is much too common.”
Now, I groan, shaking my head at him. “Why do I get the feeling there is going to be a lot of ganging up on me today?”
“You’d be wrong,” he says. “We typically gang up on Evander.”
I smother a giggle and shake my head before gasping. “Wait, you all talk regularly?”
He nods. “Yes. We’re… well, you’ll find out in a few. Now, pick your word, little luxury.”
“Boss,” I murmur.
It’s inconspicuous, it only applies to Harlan, and it’s something I never actually say to him.
His scent thickens, honeyed citrus turning darker and warmer, and he gives me a dangerous grin.
“Boss it is,” he says, and it surprises me.
By the time we pull onto Silas’s drive, gravel crunching softly beneath the tyres, my pulse is thundering hard enough that I’m convinced everyone inside will hear it.
I barely have time to unclip my seatbelt before the front door opens.
Silas is standing in the doorway, broad shoulders filling most of the frame, one hand braced against the doorframe as his scent reaches me before his voice does.
I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s already waiting for us.
For me?
Harlan opens my car door, and I startle, accepting his warm hand as the cool air slips around my ankles.
“Little omega,” Silas greets, stepping out of the house, his voice low enough that my scent gland prickles.
Harlan squeezes my hand, his thumb brushing once across my knuckles like a silent promise, before nodding at him and passing into the house without another word.
Silas’s dark eyes seem to deepen where he’s standing, and I shiver as I step up to him, suddenly aware of how small I feel beside him. How safe he makes me feel.
“Cassie,” he greets, lowering his head to mine, dark lashes shadowing his eyes.
“Hi,” I murmur just before his lips brush over mine.
He doesn’t hesitate, pulling me closer to him like he’s been waiting all day to do it, breathing me in. I’m breathless when he pulls back.
“How are you?” he asks.
There’s no gentleness in his tone, and I worry he’ll be upset to know I don’t feel… amazing.
I try to smile, but it comes out as more of a grimace.
“I see,” he murmurs softly. “Come inside. You’ll likely notice something, and I’m intrigued for your reaction.”
I furrow my brows, but he keeps a tight hold of my hand, leading me inside, into a hallway warmer than the air outside.
A familiar scent of black tea and sweet fig washes over me, warm and certain, and every anxious part of me reaches for it before I can stop myself.
His passageway has faint traces of dark chocolate and coffee, butterscotch and caramel beneath the clean scent of polished wood—Evander and Isaac have already left themselves all over the house.
Harlan’s scent is still clinging to my skin, and with the four of them together, I can now place the owner of the final scent on the blanket.
“You’re my scent match,” I whisper, my own scent blooming before I can stop it. “And you were the one to make me the blanket.”
His eyes widen ever so slightly, and his scent deepens before he nods, something soft breaking through the intensity of his expression.
“Why?”
Silas steps closer, tucking my hair behind my ear before tipping my head up to look at him, his thumb warm beneath my chin.
“Because you needed it,” he murmurs, scenting gently beneath my ear like there was never another reason worth considering.
The height difference between us is ridiculous. His back must be practically snapping at this angle.
The tickling of his facial hair against my scent gland is weirdly enticing.
“I don’t… all four of you?” I ask softly, and he pulls away, scrutinising my expression.
Silas nods.
“You put it together, didn’t you? Between the five of us?”
“You’re so smart, little moon.”
He presses another soft kiss to my lips, rumbling softly when I melt into him before pulling back as I try to deepen it.
I pout, and his smirk causes a whine to tear from my chest without permission.
“Oh, we can’t have that, now can we?” he says huskily.
“Can’t have—” I start, but I’m cut off when he lifts me into his arms and presses me against the wall, his head ducking to my neck.
I clutch his shirt and whimper as his tongue traces along my jawline, dipping down to my gland.
Fuck.
My scent is perfuming the air, strawberry cream and vanilla musk spilling out of me as it blends with the scents of my pack until they just… fit.
A warm kitchen at dusk. Coffee hot, dessert made, soft warmth… and a strong feeling of home.
Whether I’m ready or not, fate has already decided. They’re my people. My pack.
Silas bites over my gland, not hard enough to mark, and I moan, his answering rumble enough for my underwear to be drenched with slick.
“Ahem,” a familiar voice calls, and I startle as Silas freezes against me. “Whilst the two of you deserve to enjoy yourselves, we currently have two alphas who are struggling to control themselves.”
“Oh, no,” I gasp, pushing against Silas gently.
He presses a soft kiss to my lips, sweet enough to make the gentleness worse, before carefully placing me on the ground, my feet unsteady on the hallway floor.
I can’t look at Isaac, but Silas has no issue smirking at the beta.
“Only the alphas?” Si teases, shaking his head when Isaac flips him off. “Are you ready to go through, little moon, or do you need a few moments?”
I hesitate. Do I want to go through with Isaac and Silas to help soften the anxiety inside me, or do I want to clean up so my slick and scent aren’t so obvious?
Oh, goodness.
Cleaning up is needed.
“Could I be shown to the bathroom, first, please?” I ask quietly.
Silas nods, gesturing to a door on the left side of the corridor, before he follows Isaac through the doorway at the top, where the low murmur of voices waits.
I lock the door behind me, gripping the cool sink edge as I take a few minutes to clean myself up the best I can.
Then another few to gather the courage to leave.
“Cass,” Isaac says, standing just outside the living room with his dark hair perfectly in place and one hand tucked into his pocket, his butterscotch and caramel scent softening as soon as he sees me. “You made it.”
I stare at him in surprise, taking in the softness around his caramel-brown eyes.
“I…” I clear my throat. “Yes. Um, I was worried, but Harlan said it would be fine.”
Isaac laughs softly, but his gaze flicks over me like he’s reading every sour edge of my scent. “It will be. How are you feeling?”
I shrug, and he nods in understanding.
“Evander’s making some tea,” Isaac says, leading me through to the living room.
“As if I’d trust you to do it,” Evander calls back, likely from the kitchen, but I have no idea where that is.
“I’ve made tea before,” Isaac protests, winking at me.
“Barely,” Evander says. “If it’s not bought, you don’t do it well enough.”
“I’ve literally owned a kettle for years.”
“That doesn’t mean you’ve used it correctly,” Harlan points out, and the four of them laugh.
I hear the unmistakable sound of someone opening a cupboard far harder than necessary.
Isaac rolls his eyes at me. “I can make tea.”
“I think the argument was about whether you make good tea, Isa,” I tease.
Evander comes in from the kitchen—I’m assuming—with his sleeves pushed up and a wooden tray balanced carefully in both hands.
Five mugs with steam curling lazily into the air, carrying the rich scent of black tea.
“I’ve no idea how everyone takes theirs,” he says, looking vaguely offended by the fact. “So, milk and sugar are on the side for everyone to make themselves.”
“You’ve known me for nearly fifteen years,” Isaac says, deadpan. “How do you not know how I take tea?”
Evander snorts. “I know how you take tea. I just choose not to subject myself to making something so disgusting.”
I giggle, smothering it behind my hand as Harlan and Silas come in after him.
Silas winks at me before moving to the small sofa near the fireplace, and Harlan scowls at Evander from the sofa.
“You can’t take over tea duty and then only do half the job.”
Isaac smirks. “Laziness is one of Evander’s core values.”
“Bullshitter,” Evander says, appalled. “I am a meticulous worker—”
“Yeah, when numbers are involved,” Isaac argues.