26. Mason
CHAPTER 26
Mason
The fresh mountain air fills my lungs, traces of Lakelyn and Chad still clinging to me as I push out of the bar. I know Dean’s close behind. The jealousy rolling off him is thick enough to choke on, and I can’t let this explode in front of Landon. That would screw up everything.
I walk a little farther from the door before spinning around to face him. His face is hard, jaw clenched, eyes stormy and sharp. Pure possessive alpha. I get it. I had the same knee-jerk reaction when I caught a whiff of his scent all over Chad—his forest musk wrapped around the omega like a warning sign. Until it hit me.
This isn’t just some territorial bullshit. This is bigger.
“We need to talk,” I repeat, my voice low but firm.
Dean’s gaze flickers, his hands flexing into fists at his sides. I step closer, keeping my tone steady.
“I know you can smell them on me,” I tell him, watching for his reaction. “Same way I could smell you on Chad earlier.”
His jaw tightens even more, but he doesn’t speak, eyes narrowing as if that’ll hide the conflict I know is raging inside him.
“I get it, man. I really do,” I continue, stepping into his space, just enough to make my point. “You’re feeling possessive. I felt it too—earlier. But seriously, take a second. Really smell me. What are our pheromones telling you?”
For a moment, he stays rigid, refusing to look at me, but I don’t back down. He needs to hear this. Slowly, he breathes in, eyes flashing as his alpha instincts kick in. I see the recognition hit him like it hit me. That shift. The way our scents blend together with theirs, forming something new. Something that shouldn’t make sense, but it does.
Dean’s nostrils flare, and he finally meets my eyes. “What are you saying?”
I take another breath, feeling that strange clarity settle over me. “I’m saying this isn’t just some casual fling. You, me, them... we’re bound. Scent-bound. You know what that means.”
Dean’s throat works, but he doesn’t say anything at first. He’s battling it, just like I did. Trying to make sense of the fact that what we feel isn’t just possessiveness, it’s something deeper. The kind of pack that only exists in stories. Legends.
“They’re ours,” I say softly, leaning in. “And we’re theirs. This is bigger than just us.”
Dean’s fists unclench, his gaze flicking away for a second before snapping back to mine. “You really think that’s what this is?”
“I know it is.” I hold his gaze. “You feel it, too.”
For a moment, there’s only the sound of our breathing, the night air cool but buzzing with what we’re both realizing. Then, after what feels like forever, Dean curses under his breath.
“This is insane,” he mutters, but there’s no real bite behind his words.
“Maybe,” I agree with a small shrug. “But it’s real. And we need to figure this out before it gets messier.”
Dean huffs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Fuck.”
I smirk, unable to resist. “Welcome to the club.”
Before he can say anything else, the door swings open, and Dee’s voice floats toward us. “Cheese on a cracker, you two look like you’re plotting a murder out here. Everything good?”
Dean doesn’t answer, his eyes still on me. Landon steps out right behind her, his gaze narrowing as he takes us in, clearly sensing the shift.
“We’re good,” I say quickly, flashing a grin. But I can feel Landon’s eyes lingering, sharp and suspicious, like he knows something’s going on but can’t quite figure out what. Dean stays quiet, his jaw still tense, but I can see the gears turning in his head.
We won’t be able to keep this under wraps for much longer, but until we’re all on the same page, it’s best to keep our mouths shut.
“If everything’s fine, why are you two still standing out here?” Landon asks, his voice low, but there’s a challenge buried in there somewhere.
I glance at Dean, straighten my shoulders, and take a breath. Maybe I can tell Landon something—at least part of it. “I don’t know how to break this to you,” I begin, and I can feel Dean tense beside me, like he’s bracing for impact. “But I discovered my pack today. And... it includes Dean.”
“Holy cow!” Dee’s eyes go wide, sparkling with excitement. “A pack? I thought you were going to be single forever! How did you figure it out? Who’s your omega? Wait, how did you know Dean was part of it? Why aren’t they here?”
She rapid-fires the questions, barely pausing to breathe. Only Dee could turn something like this into a game of twenty questions. I roll my eyes, but there’s a hint of amusement in it, even as what I just said settles between all of us.
Landon inhales, and I can see the spark of recognition in his gaze sharpens, the realization hitting him like a freight train. He takes one step toward me, his face darkening, and before I can react, I’m slammed against the brick wall. His fingers dig into my collar, yanking me forward so we’re nose-to-nose.
“Why the hell do you smell like you rolled around in my sister’s scent?” His voice is low, furious, like he’s barely holding himself back from tearing me apart.
Dee lets out a low whistle. “Lakelyn, Mase? Oh shit.”
“Landon, I can explain—” I start, but the words barely leave my mouth before Dean steps forward, his body moving before his mind can catch up. His arm shoots out between us, his palm pressing against Landon’s chest as he pushes him back, forcing him to release me.
“Back off,” Dean growls, his tone full of instinct and possessiveness, eyes blazing in a way that surprises even me.
Landon stumbles back a step, his hands dropping to his sides as his gaze shifts from Dean to me, and then back to Dean. It’s like the puzzle pieces start snapping into place all at once. He doesn’t need to ask anything else. He knows.
“She’s part of your pack,” he breathes out, stunned. “That’s what this is. That’s what you meant.”
I watch as Landon processes it, his hands flexing at his sides, his eyes darting between us like he’s trying to keep from losing it.
“Landon—” I begin again, my voice more steady this time.
But he shakes his head, backing away slowly, his face torn between anger and confusion. “No. I need some time to think.” He turns on his heel, heading down the sidewalk without another word.
Dee watches him go, her wide eyes swinging back to us, then shakes her head with a little grin. “Well, that could’ve gone worse.”
Dean sits rigidly across from me, his eyes fixed on the bottle in his hand, but at least he didn’t leave. That’s something. Dee found a few friends to keep her busy, giving us a moment of peace, though the tension between us still lingers, thick and unspoken.
I lean back, stretching my legs out in front of me, my gaze drifting to the dance floor as I take a long sip of my beer. “I didn’t sleep with them,” I say, keeping my tone casual. I don’t look at him, but I can sense him reacting, the way his shoulders subtly relax as he inhales deeply, like my words calm something raging inside him.
“I would have,” I add, my voice lower now, “but something… interrupted us.”
Dean’s gaze sharpens. “Interrupted?” His voice cuts through the noise, drawing my attention back to him.
I glance at him, his eyes narrowed in curiosity. “Someone broke into the shop while we were…” I hesitate, not sure how much I want to reveal about what went down between me, Lakelyn, and Chad. “While I was kissing them,” I continue. “Whoever it was knocked over some paint cans, made a mess, then ran out the backdoor. We found the door wide open when we went to check.”
Dean’s brows draw together, his focus completely on me now. “You’re telling me someone broke in while you were in the middle of…” he trails off, but I know he’s putting the pieces together.
“Yeah,” I say, shaking my head. “Whoever it was didn’t take anything, just made a mess and bolted. But it killed the mood pretty fast.”
Dean’s lips press into a thin line, his fingers tapping against the table. “You think it was just some random break-in?”
“Maybe.” I shrug, but the doubt lingers in the back of my mind. “Or maybe they knew we were there.”
Dean’s brow furrows, and I can feel his gaze burning into me, waiting for more of an explanation. I sigh. “I think they knew at least Lakelyn and Chad were there. Maybe they didn’t expect me.”
The words hang between us, but I can't help the tug of guilt. Lakelyn would lose it if she knew I trailed after her and Chad, watching to make sure they made it back to her apartment safely.
She’d probably tell me I was overreacting—that she’s fine and doesn’t need anyone's protection. But I wasn’t about to let them walk home alone after someone broke into the shop. Blue Ridge might be a small town, but there are always tourists, and who knows? One of them could have caught sight of Chad and recognized him. He could even have a stalker. He was on national television. It’s not like I’ve been around him much to know.
Dean’s silence makes the air between us heavier, and when I glance at him, his face has hardened. “You left them alone?” His voice is sharp, accusing.
I shake my head quickly, meeting his stare. “I didn’t leave them alone.” My voice is firm, but there’s an edge to it. “I followed them. Made sure they got home safe.”
Dean’s eyes sharpen at that, his body leaning in slightly. “You followed them, but then left them alone?”
I glance at him, catching the edge in his voice. “I didn’t leave them alone.”
He arches a brow, clearly not buying it. “Sounds like you did.”
“No.” I sit up straighter, meeting his stare head-on. “I waited until they made it safely inside. Didn’t leave until I was sure. Someone broke into the shop, Dean. Even in a small town like Blue Ridge, I wasn’t about to risk something happening to them on the way back to Lake’s apartment.”
Dean holds my gaze for a beat, his jaw tight. “And then you left?”
“Yeah,” I admit, but my voice is firm. “Once they were safe. What was I supposed to do? Camp outside their door all night?”
Dean exhales, rubbing his hand across his face. “You should’ve stayed with them. If it was a targeted thing, how do you know they didn’t follow the three of you to see where they went?”
I shake my head denying his words. “They don’t need me hovering over them. And trust me, if I had, Lake would’ve never let me hear the end of it. Besides, the apartment complex is safe.”
Dean takes a long drink of his beer, staring at the label like it holds the answer to everything. Finally, he exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t really know how to process all of this.” His voice is quieter now, more vulnerable. “After Chad—back when we were teens—I swore off having a pack. I told myself I didn’t need that kind of mess, didn’t want it.”
I glance over at him, hearing the raw honesty in his tone. He’s not one to open up easily, and I know I’m seeing a side of him most don’t.
“Then he came back,” Dean continues, his gaze fixed somewhere in the past. “And the second I smelled him again… it hit me the same way it did when we were younger. Only now, Lakelyn’s blueberry scent was mixed with his spicy papaya. And together… together, they made me feel like I was gonna lose control. I’ve never been close to feral—never. Except with them.”
He’s fully in his head now, reliving it. I can feel the tension in his words, the way those scents have gripped him, same as they’ve hooked into me.
“And tonight,” he adds, looking up at me with those dark eyes, the same ones that have always been hard to read but now—there’s something in them I can’t quite place, something simmering beneath the surface. “When I smelled them both on you? I almost lost it again.”
His admission hangs heavy between us, thick and undeniable. I take a breath, searching for something to say, but there’s nothing that’ll ease the intensity of what he just laid out. He’s battling the same instincts I am, and neither of us can escape it.
“I know the feeling.” My gaze drifts over the room, not really seeing the people on the dance floor or the familiar hum of flirty energy that fills the bar. None of it matters, not anymore. “What are we going to do about it?”
Slowly, I bring my focus back to Dean. He’s watching me, still as stone. “If we’re scent-bound, then for any of us to be happy, we need to learn how to share.”
I bark out a laugh. “You make them sound like toys.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” His voice comes out rough, edged with irritation, and I can’t help the smirk tugging at my lips.
“Have you always been this grumpy and I just didn't notice before?” I tease, lifting an eyebrow, amused by how easy it is to get under his skin.
Dean’s jaw clenches, his scowl deepening, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression—maybe a begrudging acknowledgment that I’m right. Or maybe he’s just trying not to roll his eyes. Either way, I can’t resist the chance to needle him.
“You’re not wrong, though,” I say, grin still in place, but there’s a seriousness creeping in now. “We do need to figure this out. Together.”