11. Avery #2
“Explain,” he ordered, white knuckling the door handle as I took a tight corner. “For the love of—you’re going to roll us.”
“You’re very preoccupied with my driving.”
“Because I’d like to live long enough to marry you.”
I scoffed. “You’re not gonna die, and I’m not gonna flip my Jeep. The only car I’ve ever rolled was Ambrose’s Porsche, and technically, it was more a jump than a roll anyway, since it landed in a tree.”
It took a second. “Pardon me?”
“It’s a long—see, it was a small tree, and there was a ramp, but that’s not important,” I explained. “The takeaway is that I lived, and so did Ambrose, so yanno, it’s fine.”
Slight whimper from him. “Who generally drives, you or Detective Massey?”
“We take turns.”
“You lie,” he accused me as I rolled to a stop in Remy’s driveway. “He drives. I bet he even drives your car, doesn’t he?”
I grunted and got out, not bothering to lock it, and walked around the front to wait for Graeme. “Can you hurry up?”
It took him a moment to stop clutching things, another to unfold his long legs from the passenger seat, and he was a bit unsteady when he was finally on his feet beside my car. “I do believe I may very well vomit,” he informed me, and I had to admit he did look a little green around the gills.
“I don’t know anyone who can sound so imperious as they announce they’re gonna spew in the driveway.”
“As if I would void the contents of my stomach in a driveway,” he snapped at me. “I would have the decency to do so in the bushes.”
The man being flustered was crazy hot. He was so proper and polished and dignified, and here he was glowering at me and getting defensive about where he was going to puke. I could fall so unbelievably hard for him.
Rushing over, I took hold of the lapels of his Ralph Lauren Purple Label double-faced cashmere topcoat, lifted up on my toes, and kissed him.
It was quick, but I made sure he felt it, and he licked his lips when I broke the kiss to stare up into his eyes.
“That was awfully brave of you,” he commented drolly.
“Yeah, well, I figured you weren’t quite that nauseous.”
He grunted, and I smiled, grabbed his hand, and tugged him after me toward the front door.
Once there, I tore off the police tape, knowing at this point it was fully processed and the house had been cleared for Remy, or Remy and his vordr as it were, to retake possession.
Opening the door, I pulled Graeme along behind me and headed directly for the living room, stopping for a moment to let my eyes adjust to the dark, as lupine eyes did.
“Tell me what we’re doing here,” he demanded, but gently, not letting go of my hand.
“There were a ton of smells in here, you remember?”
“Pardon?”
“The night of the murder,” I reminded him, turning so we were facing each other.
“You mean the omegas.”
“Yeah. All their scents, piled on top of each other, made your eyes itchy like you were having an allergy attack.”
He nodded.
“When you told me about all the smells messing with your nose, I thought it was from the party. Now I realize your senses were overwhelmed because Talmadge had all the omegas in and out of here, and I’m wondering, because you’re an alpha, and even more so, a cyne , could you have deciphered individual scents? ”
“Of course,” he assured me.
“Yeah, see, that’s what I thought.” I squeezed his hand, excited to share this with him. “Graeme, pheromones can hang in the air a couple days, sometimes longer. It’s one of the easy ways wolves can tell if they’re being cheated on.”
He squinted at me. “That’s true, but why are we discussing—ah,” he gasped in understanding. “You want me to walk around and see if I can pick up any lingering scents of people I might have met.”
“Yes,” I told him, pleased that he’d figured it out so quickly. Giving his hand a final squeeze, I let go and pulled out my phone, ready to take notes as he started moving around the living room.
There were smells he picked up—fresh peaches, the seashore, newly-mown grass—and, of course, all the chemicals—luminol and dusting powder, the coppery smell of blood and ozone from a camera flash.
But there was nothing he could pick out specifically that triggered any memory in him or, through his description, in me.
We made our way to the bedroom where we’d talked and shared a kiss, and when I turned for the door, he was there, blocking my path.
“What’re you doing?”
“I’ve failed you, and I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t fail me; it was a longshot.”
He cupped my cheek, his thumb sliding over my chin before he tilted my head up so he could lean in close and kiss me.
I opened for him, just as I had that night, but instead of claiming my mouth he stepped back, taking rough hold of my biceps. “Graeme?”
“Your friend,” he gasped, “the blond. The one who stood in line to meet me.”
“Yeah? Bridget. What about her?”
“Her pheromones,” he began, releasing his grip on me, rubbing my arms for a moment before letting go. “They smell like strawberries and vanilla and caramel. I remember distinctly because, as I told you, I didn’t want to breathe hers in the night of the party and lose yours.”
“Sure.”
“Her scent was here that night; I can recall that with absolute clarity.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense,” I apprised him. “Bridget doesn’t need to be put into a mock heat; she’s got suitors lined up for miles. Maybe you just picked up the scent here because you were carrying it in your nose.”
He shook his head. “No. That’s not possible because, not to be crude, but you and I––”
“Don’t remind me. I’m sure my mother’s holding on to the ‘you screwed my son in the laundry room’ card so she can play it when she wants something.”
“These things only matter if the omega is not offered for. As I was not leaving that house without your contract in my hand, any and all breaches of protocol are forgiven.”
“Not to her,” I assured him. “You’ll see. It’s gonna be…be…wait,” I mumbled, working through what I just now figured out. “Shit.”
“What?”
“You couldn’t have carried Bridget’s scent because we had sex in the laundry room.”
He scowled at me. “Isn’t that what I just said? I feel as though that was me who postulated––”
“So effectively, your palate was clean because you only had my scent on you after the laundry room, but when you smelled Bridget here that night, that would have to be fresh.”
“Yes, I’m aware,” he deadpanned, like I was restating facts for no good reason.
“I know Bridget was never here, but she wouldn’t have to be,” I acknowledged, turning to smile at him. “Because my platinum blond friend has a little sister.”
I felt bad for Wade. It was a lot to have thrown at him since I woke him from a dead sleep when I used my key, unlocked the front door of his apartment, and turned off the alarm.
He was confused when I made him wash his face and brush his teeth, change into a T-shirt and sweater, jeans and hiking boots, grab his gun, and follow me out into the cold.
Graeme in the driver’s seat as I slid into the passenger side, was hard to wrap his brain around.
We stopped and got coffee at a diner close to his house, and I found out that Graeme drank tea, not coffee, and the discovery was endearing for no good reason other than it was his preference. I leaned sideways and kissed his cheek.
“What the fuck is going on?” Wade yelled, and it was loud in the interior of the car.
I opened my mouth to say something, but Graeme interrupted, glancing at Wade in the rearview mirror.
“He wanted to tell you,” Graeme revealed to Wade, “but my preference was to wait. I apologize for that, but I’m a very private person. I didn’t realize, until Avery explained it to me, how important you are in his life. Not just his work partner, but his best friend as well.”
Wade nodded, holding Graeme’s stare.
“Avery and I are to be married on Thanksgiving weekend.”
“And how long’ve you guys been seeing each other?”
I cleared my throat. “That’s not how it works for wolves. When you find your mate, that’s it, you’re done. It goes from zero to sixty in a day, or a night, or merely hours.”
Wade huffed out a breath. “That seems crazy to me.”
“But it’s exceedingly normal for lupines,” Graeme assured him.
“Huh.”
“Hey.”
Wade switched his focus to me as I turned around in my seat to face him. “I’d really like you to be my best man, if you would.”
He crossed his arms, scowling. “Of course I’ll be your best man. Who the hell else would you even ask?”
I nodded. “No one.”
“That’s right, no one,” he grumbled, and then met Graeme’s eyes again in the rearview mirror. “I need you to be okay going on double dates, ’cause I’m still looking for my mate.”
“I will be more than happy to accompany Avery on double dates with you and however many women there turn out to be.”
“That’s the spirit.” Wade smiled finally, pleased, it seemed, to be locking that part down. “It’ll be fun.”
“And I have private tables at many restaurants,” Graeme added. “So even a last-minute rendezvous will still see us dining in style.”
Wade glanced at me and smirked. “This is going be very good for my rep.”
I groaned loudly.
“So how does it work for the stag party? Do you guys both come?”
I chuckled. “I like that you have your priorities in order.”
“Well yeah,” he grumbled, leaning forward to grip Graeme’s shoulder. “You’re a lucky guy. Avery Rhine is the best man I know.”
Graeme giving Wade’s hand a quick pat made me warm with happiness.
For so long, the two halves of my life ran concurrently, but they never, ever, mingled.
I was a cop, a friend, a colleague, and a human.
Conversely, I was an omega, a son, a brother, and a wolf.
I was both parts at the same time, but I had kept them separate and distinct, always, never trusting anyone enough, on either side, to fully accept the other.
But now, having accepted that I did, in fact, want to be mated to Graeme, wanted to be loved by him, it seemed that both sides could finally function together and become one. I could become me.
Graeme was my bridge. A supportive mate who didn’t want to change me, who would take me as I was, as a police detective, as an equal, was the only one who could work in my life, and somehow, defying all odds, I’d found him.
I wished I could somehow make the evening go quicker so I could get back to our room, to our bed, and tell him what it meant to me to have found the one man who had no desire to remake me or strip me of my freedom. I wanted to tell Graeme what a blessing and a gift he was.
I couldn’t wait.