Twenty-Seven – Alijah
Twenty-Seven
Alijah
C oconut was, without question, one of the worst smells in the world—worse, even, than Wyatt’s decomposing boxwood stench. Sickly sweet and cloying, it drowned out everything else, like a bad hangover from the cheap tropical drinks I’d regretted after college bar nights.
After a disastrous workday, humiliating myself in front of Morgan and submitting my photos at the absolute last second, all I wanted was to retreat upstairs and bury myself in Joaquin’s embrace. But, of course, the day wasn’t done punishing me.
No, it had one more trial in store: an elevator reeking of coconut.
Cal held the door open with a portable medical bag in hand. Owen observed my hesitation with unnerving interest. Summoning a deep, bracing breath, I stepped inside, wedging myself in the back corner where a faint hint of mint managed to fend off the worst of the stink.
Kelsey must have passed through recently. Best neighbor ever.
When the doors opened on the sixth floor, another suffocating cloud of coconut awaited me. Had I not suffered enough?
I hurried past the alphas, desperate for Joaquin. He opened the front door just as I reached for the handle, and relief propelled me into his embrace. His long arms wrapped around me, rocking us back and forth as I pressed my face against his throat, drinking in the grounding heat of his peppery scent.
Joaquin slid a hand inside my jacket, his thumb pressing into my bond mark through the fabric of my shirt—a simple move that magically calmed the storm in my chest.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, guiding me inside with a steady hand on my hip.
“Everything. Work, the weather, me. All the damn coconut. I hate it so much.” I let my forehead fall against his shoulder, defeated. “Did you get udon? Please tell me that you got udon. Not that it’d ruin my day if you didn’t—it honestly can’t get any worse—but I could really go for some stir-fried squid right now.”
Joaquin silently asked Owen to fill in the blanks with a questioning look.
Owen was less than forthcoming, as per usual. “It seemed wise to carpool.”
Our pack leader slipped off his coat to reveal a white button-down that still looked as fresh as it did this morning. How did he look ready for business while I felt like a waterlogged mutt dragged from a dumpster?
He settled in the new leather armchair. It was a fantastic deal Joaquin had snagged through his theatre connections. We kept it strategically angled to hide a damaged section of upholstery. Owen pulled out his phone and began replying to emails.
“There’s a strong coconut pheromone signature in the elevator and hall right now,” Cal added helpfully. At least he had the decency to look human as he plopped down on the couch, his hat hair sticking out in tufts and his pants wet around the ankles. “Doesn’t seem to be a crowd favorite.”
“I see.” Joaquin didn’t bother to stifle the amused glint in his eyes as he helped me out of my coat. He’d heard me gripe about coconut and goat cheese enough times to last the rest of his life.
“Udon?” I asked, verging on a whine.
“Yes, I got you the spicy seafood one with extra squid. And guess who I saw when I picked it up?” He rubbed my hands between his toasty palms, the affectionate gesture chasing away the lingering stiffness in my limbs. “Your favorite doctor. Met her siblings, too. Did you know…”
A flicker of confusion crossed his face, quickly replaced by something flintier. More suspicious.
“Wait, what’s the neighbor girl’s name again?”
“Kelsey,” Wyatt said as he descended the stairs, hands shoved in the pockets of his gym shorts. He stopped at the last step and gave me an apologetic wince. “If you don’t like coconut, you might want to rethink the housewarming guest list.”
A thread of panic coiled around my spine. “Why? ”
“Because Piper Van Daal’s pheromone signature is coconut,” Joaquin said, applying steady pressure to my bond mark. “And she has a sister named Kelsey. Met her tonight.”
“But—but…” My mind raced. Morgan was Piper’s sister. If Piper had another sister named Kelsey—the same Kelsey who lived across the hall… No, that couldn’t be right. It had to be a coincidence. It had to be.
Joaquin turned to Wyatt, unleashing a venomous sneer. “Always knew you were a sneaky little fucker.”
“What the hell?” Wyatt balked, leaking whiffs of sour sap.
“Careful.” Owen looked up from his phone and shot a warning glance at Joaquin.
“Fuck that,” Joaquin drawled with a wicked laugh, steering me into the living room. He dropped onto the sofa, tugging my sleeve until I followed, and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “Time to come clean, Wyatt.”
“There’s no need to make it sound like a conspiracy,” Cal said in his usual deep, steady tone—trying to diffuse a situation I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Unfortunately, he only succeeded in provoking Joaquin further.
“You,” Joaquin said, staring down the bigger alpha, the intensity of his gaze verging on a challenge, “can shut the fuck up. You opted out of our business a long time ago. We’re pack. You’re not. Just like you wanted.”
“But he’s been here before—across the hall.” Despite the scorn in his icy glare,Wyatt kept his distance from the more dominant trio of alphas in the living room. “Haven’t you?”
Cal chuckled, the sound almost unsettlingly mellow, belying the tension in his clenched fists. “Someone’s been playing detective.”
“Did you really think we wouldn’t notice?” Wyatt asked in a cutting tone, his sour pheromones doubling in intensity.
“What?” I blurted out, looking between them, my confusion mounting. “Notice what?”
“Yes, Charles , please enlighten us.” Joaquin leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, flicking the foot propped on his knee like the warning rattle of a cobra.
Why couldn’t I understand what they were talking about? Why couldn’t this pack ever have a straightforward conversation? What did any of this have to do with Cal? And why was I always the last to know?
My chest tightened, breaths turning into ragged gasps, black spots creeping into the corner of my vision.
Joaquin flinched as my panic surged through the bond. “It’s okay, I promise.” His voice softened, carrying the faintest whisper of a purr, and his thumb stroked over my bite mark again, but the gesture was less effective this time. “We’re just letting off a little steam—”
“A little?” Cal scoffed.
“Stop with the theatrics.” Owen’s voice cut the rising tension like a cold knife. “It appears the occupants of unit 601 are Morgan and Kelsey Van Daal.”
“Did you already know?” Joaquin asked archly.
“I had my suspicions.” What a classic Owen non-answer. He turned his attention to Cal and Wyatt. “Explain.”
“Could’ve figured it out ages ago,” Wyatt grumbled, hands somehow buried even deeper inside his pockets, kicking at the stair tread. “If any of you ever bothered to get the mail.”
“The mail?” Joaquin’s incredulous expression would have been comical if not for the anger shading his eyes.
I blinked, mirroring his disbelief. “All our bills are paperless.”
Owen’s eyelids flickered, the barest crack in his otherwise impassive mask. For anyone else, it would’ve been an eye roll. The man was trying—and failing—to spare our feelings.
“A proper answer, please.”
“The mailboxes are labeled. Van Daal isn’t a common surname…” Wyatt’s voice trailed off as Owen leveled him with a stony glare. His head sank between his massive shoulders like a kicked dog. “I recognized this place from photos Morgan posted online. I also know the guy you bought it from—her best friend. They go way back. All the way back. I didn’t think it matteredbecause, as far as I knew, none of you knew Morgan. Or any of her siblings, for that matter.”
I still didn’t understand. “But why didn’t you say anything when we were planning the housewarming?”
“I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” Wyatt said, eyes fixed on the ground, his posture deflating the longer he spoke.
“But why?” I pressed, frustration bleeding into my voice. I needed a better answer.
Wyatt hesitated, then mumbled, “Reasons.”
“Didn’t want to drag us into your romantic mess, huh?” Joaquin asked with a dark edge to his voice.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wyatt’s jaw tensed, inflating his muscled neck.
Blood pounded in my ears. The room suddenly felt too small to contain four alphas. What was going on?
“You see, babe,” Joaquin drawled, flashing his toothiest, most troublesome smile. “Wyatt once had a date lined up with the legendary Miss Montreal—”
“ Shut up! ” Wyatt’s pheromones exploded, flooding the room with a suffocating wave of boxwood. It was like being trapped in a closet with three dozen rage-scented candles burning too hot and fast.
His fury prompted an equally intense response from my mate, Joaquin’s heavily spiced scent rolling over me like a protective shield. I might have drowned without it.
“He dumped Miss Montreal,” Joaquin continued, his demeanor maddeningly casual, undeterred by the boxwood bomb detonating eight feet away. “And has regretted it ever since. Screwed him right up. Didn’t it?”
Montreal. The word swirled through my mind, spinning faster and faster until everything clicked into place with dizzying clarity.
Morgan’s accident happened in Montreal.
When I’d mentioned Wyatt to her for the first time, she’d turned distant, polite at best, before going ice-cold for the rest of the football game.
I turned my gaze to Wyatt and looked at him—really looked at him—and the guilt dripping off his forehead like cold sweat. How had I missed it before?
He’d reacted weirdly to Kelsey’s scent in the living room because he didn’t have the guts to face Morgan’s sister. And whoever Ethan was, Wyatt was even more afraid of him.
“You dumped her,” I said, my words biting, almost accusatory, jabbing my finger across the hall, anger bubbling under my skin. “You dumped her —dumped Morgan?”
“Yeah,” Cal said, leaning forward. The single word landed like a gavel strike, heavy with condemnation. Somehow, his large frame seemed even more massive. “I’m going to need you to explain that.”
Wyatt snorted, his pheromones spiking again. “Fuck off, Cal. I already know she turned you down.”
Another puzzle piece slid home. “The liqueur scent in the hallway… That was you.”
“God damn. Knew I’d smelled that sad, sticky syrup before, but I couldn’t place it.” Joaquin flashed a devilish grin at Cal—but the depths of his eyes were cold. “Aren’t you basically her boss?”
“I’m well-versed in professional ethics, thank you.” Cal’s voice was as calm as ever, but he didn’t deny anything. “My visit wasn’t personal. We had something to discuss, and it couldn’t wait.”
“Look, babe.” Joaquin rested his head against mine, wickedly amused as he gestured toward Wyatt. “One slippery fucker.” Then he flicked his finger at Cal. “Two slippery fuckers.”
I tugged on his arm. “Don’t be rude—”
“No,” Wyatt cut in, “Joaquin’s right. I’ve been keeping shit from you. But so has he.” A frigid gaze locked onto Cal. “You’ve been over there at least twice.”
Cal leaned back slightly, narrowing his eyes. “That’s not true.”
“Oh? Then why did I pick up your pheromones in the hallway about a month ago? Friday night, around ten o’clock.”
“This is only my second time inside this building, whether you want to believe it or not.” Cal’s words might have sounded convincing, but the red flush creeping up his neck betrayed him.
“What, did you pheromone bomb her like some kind of horny teenage asshole?” Joaquin quipped—and Cal’s flush only deepened. A sting of genuine disappointment undercut Joaquin’s ribbing. “Fuck, man, and I thought Wyatt had it bad.”
Wyatt’s dense shoulders tightened, the tendons in his neck straining against the collar of his shirt. He was mere seconds away from unloading on Joaquin…who, admittedly, deserved it—just a little.
“You—”
But before he could erupt, Joaquin went on the defense, blindsiding me in the process.
“Oh, relax. Alijah’s hooked on her, too.” He ran a hand through his hair, wearing a devil-may-care expression, as if daring anyone to interrupt. “And since we’re being honest … So am I.”
Wyatt and Cal both turned their heads sharply to stare at my mate. They didn’t seem angry. More surprised than anything.
Only Owen remained unfazed—at least at first glance. His phone had been set aside in favor of resting his elbows on the arms of his chair, tight lips pressed against his steepled fingers, watching us like a hawk.
“In fact…” Joaquin’s suggestive gaze moved steadily around the room, studying each of us in turn. “Is there anyone here who isn’t interested in Morgan?”
Owen’s dominance hit like a thunderclap, suppressing us with its sheer magnitude—demanding obedience. Joaquin’s protective layer of pheromones evaporated instantly. He grunted as Owen’s influence hit him square in the gut. I choked. Wyatt white-knuckled the banister. Even Cal had to dig a hand into the couch to steady himself.
“This embarrassment of a discussion ends here.” Owen’s voice was as merciless as his gaze. “Wyatt, go with Cal. Alijah, reheat dinner. Joaquin, scent cancellation. Now. ”
The oppressive weight of Owen’s dominance receded as he left the room.
We all needed a moment to collect ourselves, and then Wyatt marched upstairs, fuming as he stomped across the walkway to his room. Cal lingered on the couch for a few more breaths, then grabbed his medical bag and followed suit.
Joaquin rose slowly, extending his hand to me. His grip was firm, keeping me steady as I got to my feet, still shaking slightly from the lingering aftereffects of alpha exposure.
He kissed my temple, lips warm and reassuring against my skin, and whispered, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I murmured, more out of habit than intention. “I think so.”
“Good.” He kissed my temple again. “Then let’s eat. We’ll talk about your day later.”
My day?
Still reeling from the alpha cyclone, I struggled to recall what had happened earlier. Anger, Morgan, coconut—coconut was Piper—interception photo, lost SD card…
Oh no. A wave of guilt surged as I realized my mistake. I’d shut him out again, hadn’t I?
Joaquin slunk off toward the utility room, sarcastic applause trailing in his wake. “Outstanding first pack meeting, boys.”
***
By the time I finished word-vomiting the entire story of the misplaced SD card and my subsequent meltdown, I was more snot than human. Joaquin held me tight, supporting both our weights against the headboard of our bed, his hands tracing soothing patterns along my back and hips.
“I’m sorry,” I said, rubbing at the tear-soaked patch on his shirt. “So sorry for blocking you out. I opened my bag to grab the card, and it was gone. I didn’t know what to do. Everything slammed right into me all at once, and I—I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for your feelings, Alijah.” The rasp in his voice was my refuge. “You’re entitled to them—all of them—even the ones that suck.”
His hand wound a slow, deliberate trail toward the base of my skull, guiding my head to rest on his shoulder .
“I know, I know,” I said with a sigh. “I didn’t mean to close the bond, but…it gets so loud in here.” I gestured roughly at the side of my head. “Don’t want to be a distraction.”
Joaquin was quiet for a moment, but his steady caresses never stopped. “Did I distract you when I dropped a light on my foot the week after we bonded?”
“No, it was—a flash of pain. I realized something happened, but it wasn’t serious. And that when I pulled on the bond, it… I think it helped?”
“Mhm, very much,” he said, using a tissue to clean up the worst of my mess. “And when I crashed Morgan’s lunch break the other week?”
“Cancel plans one time, and you—” My retort turned into a stifled squeal as Joaquin abruptly dipped his head and bit down on my shoulder, flooding my bond mark with tingles. “Not fair!”
“Then answer the question,” he said, watching me with the eyes of a sated predator, looking far too pleased with the power he held over me.
“Bright, jittery—like you were dialed in. Enjoying yourself.”
“Want to know how it feels when you’re talking to her?” Joaquin asked with deliberate provocation as he took my earlobe between his thumb and forefinger. I sucked in a lungful of pepper-laced temptation. His smirk deepened, showing off the dimple on his left cheek, and he held my gaze. “Well, so would I—because you ice me out every time.”
“Joaquin…” I lacked the ability to articulate the jumbled feelings lodged under my sternum.
“You like her.” His words were soft but certain. “That’s why I started paying attention to her. Looking at her social media, not that she posts much. Watching old interviews and tracking down whatever I could. I wanted to make sure I could trust her. Not just as a person, but as a potential partner.”
My heart stuttered. “For—for both of us?”
Given the events of the evening, for all of us might be more accurate. But the idea was so overwhelming and mind-boggling that I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud.
He nodded with a wistful expression. “When I said I wanted a pack, I meant a complete one, with every designation. Like how I grew up.”
His childhood was idyllic, the kind of pack bliss I’d only ever seen in movies. Family traditions, birthday parties, destination vacations, endless smiles, and unconditional love. Until all three of his fathers—two alphas and a beta—were killed by a drunk driver.
That left his beta and omega mothers to care for three precious little sisters. And a fourteen-year-old son whose scrawny shoulders suddenly had to bear the weight of being the man of the house.
He’d always been honest about wanting a pack, but I hadn’t realized that dream might involve five men trying to woo the same, technically off-limits omega.
Or was it four? Owen hadn’t said he wasn’t interested in Morgan, but this was Owen we were talking about—stoic, spartan, impossible-to-pin-down Owen.
Besides, Cal and Wyatt weren’t even pack. And the powers that be never approved courting paperwork when multiple unpacked parties were vying for the same partner.
Snuggling against his shoulder, I grumbled, “There’s a lot more going on than I realized.”
“No shit,” he said with a wry laugh while still trying his best to be gentle. “Yeah, Morgan somehow makes scrubs look sexy and gives killer banter, but I never thought I’d be into the same woman as Cal and Wyatt.”
“Yeah, the Cal thing was a surprise.” I shook my head, idly tracing the tattoos winding down his arms. “I see them together multiple times a week. Sure, he hangs around her on the sidelines, and they joke a bit, but it’s so… tame . No lingering looks, no covert touches. They’re always so focused and professional.”
“Isn’t that part of what drew you to her in the first place? How dedicated is she, and how she thrives on helping people?”
“Yeah.” I kissed the symmetrical geometric forms inked on his neck. “When you put it that way, it’s only natural Cal would be into her, too.”
Holding him tighter, I whispered my honest thoughts. “Part of me—a large part—wants to be thrilled. The five of us… Well, four, since Owen seems iffy, but he’s always iffy. All of us liking the same omega should be the best thing ever. Morgan could make the dream of Wyatt and Cal joining the pack a reality. But I can’t help but worry.”
Joaquin’s hand moved in slow, soothing circles along my back, making my words spill out faster.
“If it was just me and you, we could date her without too much trouble. She’s done with the football team in January. But throw in Wyatt and Cal… They’re alphas. All it would take is one dirty look, a jealous growl, and poof—her job’s gone. No more football with me, no tech fun with Owen and Cal, no gymnastics with Wyatt. I don’t want that for her.”
“Don’t lose sight of our options, babe,” he murmured. “One, convince them to pack up with us and file courting paperwork. Then, if anyone gives us shit, we use Cal’s connections to make sure no one loses out at work. ”
“Cal won’t go for that. At least not while his grandfather’s still alive.”
“So, option two. Wait until her fellowship’s over and Charles the First croaks to make our move.”
“That could be months from now, years even. What if Morgan accepts a job in a different state without knowing how we feel?” I burrowed into the crook of his neck, voice muffled against his skin. “Why can’t you be a possessive jerk and just order me to get over her?”
“I’m a lover, not a barker,” he said, kissing my hair. “Which is why I’m all for option three—seducing our hot neighbor on the down low. Living next door makes it so much easier not to get caught.” Wicked laughter poured into my ear. “Hold the elevator for her? Throw in a wink. Help bring up her groceries? Steal a kiss. Hard to reach lightbulb? Change it for her—in the nude.”
I pulled back to stare at him. “Oh my god, you’re terrible.”
“And you love it.” His embrace verged on suffocating before he kissed my forehead and eased up. “But we can’t let Charles get ahead of the pack proper. You’re an easy sell, with your big heart and this gorgeous face.” His hand cradled my chin, angling it upward to rain kisses along my cheekbones and nose before finally claiming my lips. “And I’m hot as fuck. Completely irresistible when I put my mind to it.”
A hand slipped beneath the hem of my shirt, fingertips spanning my ribcage, teasing out newly awakened nerve endings.
“It’s the prickly one I’m worried about. Think a dick can rust from disuse?”
I slapped his shoulder. “Joaquin!”
“Not sorry,” he said, laughing as he rolled me onto my back, settling his weight between my legs. “I sincerely don’t know who could look at the two of us, in all our happily mated glory, and then look at Owen and think, yes, I find them all equally attractive.”
“You don’t see his appeal?”
Joaquin’s brows rose, curling his mouth into a wolfish leer. “And you do?”
“He checks a lot of boxes, you know. Not my boxes. But he’s smart, dominant, tall, and has an incredible job. People settle for a lot less.”
“Should I be worried that you’re being so complimentary?”
“I don’t know. Can you name three gymnastics moves?” I teased, pinching his nipple through his shirt. “Or are you finally going to admit you were only watching those videos to stare at Morgan’s ass?”
Joaquin released an exaggerated gasp, catching my hand and pinning it between us. His thumb stroked the underside of my wrist. “How dare you question my gymnastics expertise. I know all the important terms— straddle, grip, twist, mount,” he whispered before capturing my mouth for a filthy kiss. “ Release .”
“You’re hopeless.”
“Probably. But you’re stuck with me.” Joaquin’s fingers trailed up my arm, settling in the bend of my elbow, holding me tight. “So let me in, babe. I don’t want to be last to know when you have a bad day.”
A fresh wave of guilt threatened to pull me under, but I nodded, swallowing hard.
“Me either. So don’t…”
His thumb repeatedly brushed over my bonding mark, coaxing the words out of me.
“Don’t keep things to yourself, no matter how much you think it might upset me. Like Wyatt’s history with Morgan.”
“Okay. We’ll both try to do better with our bond and with honesty.” He sealed our agreement with a languid kiss, undermined by an amused sneer. “As a show of good faith, I’ll even go first—I have no plans to stop roasting little Redmond.”
“Babe,” I asked with an exasperated sigh, “why?”
“Because he’s an idiot . He missed out on a good thing with Morgan and has no one to blame but himself.” Joaquin started bunching up my shirt, his touch growing needier the more skin he revealed. “Now praise me for realizing I couldn’t live without you and locking you down at the first opportunity. Hurry up.”
He eased down, his playful teeth nipping at my flesh.
“Tell me you love me. Stroke my ego, babe.” A lean arm hooked beneath my knee, creating more room for him as he shifted lower, fingers toying with the waistband of my pajama pants. “I need it.”
I loved him, even when he was being ridiculous—so much I couldn’t stand it sometimes. “Touch me, alpha. It’s your reward for decent behavior.”
“Hey,” he growled, greedy tongue licking a line along my ribcage, “I’ve been an absolute angel.”
“Don’t push it.”
And then Joaquin reminded me, in no uncertain terms, why I was so taken with his naughty side. Over and over—until my panic attack at the stadium was just a distant memory, and the dream of being with Morgan didn’t seem so far-fetched.
But that’s all it was. A dream.