5. Liam
Liam
I hear her soft footsteps in the hallway before she even reaches the kitchen.
I keep my eyes fixed on my plate, pushing the pasta around with my fork as if they’re the most fascinating things I’ve ever seen.
Once she steps into the kitchen, I immediately catch Emma’s scent—faint but unmistakable even through whatever blockers she’s using.
She moves quickly, almost silently, like she’s trying not to be noticed.
There’s a wall separating the kitchen and the dining room, but I can track her movements as she makes a sandwich from the ingredients Theo left out.
Rowan and Theo continue their conversation about the upcoming weekend’s corporate event, but I know they’re both as aware of her presence as I am. We’re all listening to the rustle of paper as she wraps her sandwich, the soft padding of her feet as she retreats.
The front door opens, then closes with a gentle click.
Theo waits exactly three seconds before speaking. “She’s settling in well, I think. Has a real eye for photography. Did you see that Instagram post she made today?”
“Mmm,” Rowan nods, taking a sip of his beer. “She’s good at her job. Professional.” He sets his bottle down, eyes narrowing slightly. “But she seems more than a little nervous, like maybe she is hiding something.”
“Hiding?” Theo asks, raising an eyebrow.
Rowan’s fork pauses halfway to his mouth. “I think she might be wearing scent blockers. There’s something underneath her scent. It’s faint but sweet, but with a bite, like warm apple pie.”
I keep my expression neutral, though my stomach tightens. He’s caught hints, but they don’t know what I know. They haven’t smelled her, really smelled her, like I have.
“She’s an omega,” I confirm quietly, speaking for the first time since we sat down to eat. Both their heads swivel toward me.
“You sure?” Rowan asks.
I nod once, focusing on cutting a piece of bread with unnecessary precision.
“Yesterday. When Maple stole her…” I pause, clearing my throat, “personal item.” The memory of holding that purple silicone floods back.
Her scent had been all over it—pure, unfiltered.
“No beta smells like that,” I finish, looking back at my plate.
Theo lets out a low whistle. “Well, that explains why she’s so jumpy. Unbonded omega, new town, two unmated alphas, and a badass beta for employers. No wonder she looks like she’s ready to bolt every time someone moves too fast.”
“We’ll need to be careful,” Rowan says, his protective instincts evident in his tone. “Clearly, she doesn’t want anyone to know. We give her space. Make sure she feels safe.”
“Agreed,” Theo nods. “No sudden movements, no alpha posturing.”
They both look at me, and I frown. “What?”
“You’re the most intimidating of the three of us,” Theo says bluntly. “All silent and broody. Just, try not to loom.”
“I don’t loom,” I mutter, stabbing a noodle with a little more force than necessary.
“You absolutely loom,” Theo counters. “You’ve got the whole tall, dark, and foreboding thing going on. Which works for you, don’t get me wrong, but might not be what a nervous omega needs right now.”
I grunt noncommittally.
If they only knew.
If they could smell what I smelled yesterday—the pure, undiluted scent of her that had hit me—sweet apples, warm spices, and buttery crust. The most exquisite thing I’d ever encountered—it cut through every defense I’d built.
Fuck. Like walking into a wall of pure want.
My body went from zero to claiming mode so fast that I nearly embarrassed myself.
My cock had hardened within seconds, straining against my jeans as if trying to break free.
It had taken every ounce of self-control not to claim what every cell in my body recognized as mine.
The urge to press her against the nearest surface, to taste her, to bury myself inside her, and lock us together with my knot had been overwhelming.
Thank god for Maple.
The little troublemaker had chosen that moment to dart away, giving me the excuse I needed to chase after her.
The run had cleared my head somewhat, cool air filling my lungs, distance diluting her scent.
Not that running with a raging hard-on had been comfortable—each step a reminder of what I’d just discovered.
Our mate.
The knowledge sits heavy in my chest, a secret I’m not ready to share. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“We need to respect her privacy,” Rowan says, ever the voice of reason. “If she’s hiding her designation, she has her reasons.”
“Agreed,” Theo nods. “No, confronting her about it. We just make sure she knows she’s safe here.”
I push my chair back, suddenly needing to be alone. “I’ve got to check on the animals.”
“Liam,” Rowan’s voice stops me at the door. “You good with this? Having an unbonded omega around?”
The question hangs in the air, loaded with implications. They know my history, know why I’ve kept my distance from omegas for years—they’re the only ones who do.
“It’s fine,” I say flatly. “She’s an employee. That’s all.”
The lie tastes bitter on my tongue.
Outside, the night air cools my heated skin. I stride toward the barn, breathing deeply to clear my head.
Inside the barn, the animals stir as I enter. I move through my routine on autopilot: checking water, adjusting bedding, and soothing with a gentle hand. The repetitive tasks usually center me, but tonight, my mind keeps circling back to her.
Emma.
I’d known the moment I’d smelled her true scent. Known with bone-deep certainty that she was ours. The mate we weren’t even looking for. The missing piece of a puzzle I’d convinced myself we didn’t need.
A year ago, after years of dancing around it, I’d finally accepted Rowan and Theo’s offer to form a pack. We’d been friends for years, then business partners, and finally, after much persuasion on their part, packmates.
“None of us are in any hurry to find an omega,” Rowan had said.
And I’d believed him, believed in the safety of that arrangement. No pressure, no expectations. Just three males who worked well together balanced each other’s strengths and weaknesses.
Now this.
I run a hand through my hair, tugging in frustration. I should tell them. They deserve to know that their potential mate is living in a cottage a hundred yards from the main house. Every instinct I have is screaming to claim, protect, and bring her into our pack.
But I can’t form the words.
Because what if history repeats itself? What if I’m wrong? What if I’ve been alone so long that I’m imagining a scent match where there is none?
Or worse, what if I’m right—but she rejects us?
Rejects me?
I lean against the stall door, pressing my forehead against the cool wood. Maple bleats from inside, butting her head against my hand where it hangs over the door.
“What am I supposed to do, huh?” I murmur to the goat, scratching behind her ears. “Just walk up and say, ‘Hey, by the way, I think you’re our mate, but I’m terrified of being wrong because the last time I thought I found my mate, it nearly destroyed me’?”
Maple looks at me with those oddly expressive eyes, then bleats again as if in agreement.
“Great advice,” I mutter.
I finish my barn chores and make my way out. The lights of her cottage at the end of the row glow softly in the darkness. Through the window, I can see her silhouette, sitting by the table, head bent over what’s probably her laptop.
I should keep walking. Go to my own cottage. Try to sleep.
As I turn, I see Maple’s door is ajar, and she is nowhere to be seen. That goat can escape from Fort Knox when she puts her mind to it.
I type a quick message: “Maple’s loose. Probably headed your way.”
Delete it. Too abrupt.
Try again: “Good evening, Hope you don’t mind a goat visitor.”
Fuck, that sounds weird.
Finally, I settle on something that doesn’t make me sound like a complete idiot.
As I hit send, I spot Maple trotting toward Emma’s cottage, her white coat visible even in the darkness.
I should go after her.
But then Emma’s door opens, spilling warm light across the grass. She steps outside, laughing as Maple bounds up to her. The sound of her laughter, soft and genuine, reaches me across the distance.
I retreat into the shadows, watching as she kneels to pet the goat, her face transformed by her smile. Something twists in my chest, painful and sweet all at once.
I can keep my distance.
I’ve spent years mastering the art of holding myself apart.
But standing here in the darkness, watching her gentle hands stroke Maple’s fur, listening to her murmur words I can’t quite catch, I’m faced with a more difficult question.
Do I want to?