9. Rowan
Rowan
I can’t get her scent out of my head.
Watching Emma hurry to her cottage, I stand rooted in place, my body humming with an energy I’ve never felt before. Her scent lingers in the air: apple pie, taunting me even as she disappears behind her door.
Fuck.
The urge to follow her and make sure she is okay tears through me. I drag a hand down my face, trying to compose myself. Her scent has been getting stronger, breaking through whatever suppressants she’s taking. Today it hit me—sweet and ripe and undeniably omega.
My omega.
The thought rises unbidden, and I push it down immediately.
She’s not mine.
Yet.
She’s an employee who clearly doesn’t want anyone to know her designation.
I force myself to turn away from her cottage, striding toward the barn, but her scent clings to my memory, refusing to fade.
She looked ill and pale, with shadows under her eyes.
Is she sick?
The protective instinct that rises in me is almost overwhelming. I should go back and check on her to make sure she has everything she needs.
But that’s not my place. She very clearly doesn’t want my help. Doesn’t want me to know what she is.
The barn door creaks as I pull it open with force. Inside, the familiar smells of the farm ground me somewhat. I find Liam in the back, brushing down one of the ponies with methodical strokes.
“Something’s wrong,” he says without looking up. Always direct, our Liam.
I lean against a post, crossing my arms. “What makes you say that?”
He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “You’re agitated. Scent’s all over the place.” He returns to brushing the pony. “What happened?”
I exhale slowly, knowing I can’t hide it from him. Our pack bond, while not as strong as it would be with an omega, still allows for a certain awareness of each other’s states.
“It’s Emma,” I admit finally. “I think her suppressants are failing.”
Liam’s hands pause momentarily, then resume their steady rhythm. “You scented her.”
“Yes.” The word comes out rougher than I intended. “She’s definitely an omega. Like you said.”
“And?” he prompts, still not looking at me.
“And nothing. She’s our employee. She clearly doesn’t want us to know.”
Liam snorts softly. “That’s not what I meant.”
Of course it isn’t. Liam has always been able to see through me, even before we formed our pack. He’s waiting for me to admit what we both already know.
“Her scent…” I begin, then stop, struggling to find words adequate to describe it. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever smelled before. Potent…. Perfect.”
Liam finally looks up, his eyes meeting mine. “Like a scent match.”
The word hangs between us, heavy with implication. I don’t confirm nor deny it, but my silence is enough of an answer.
“You too, then,” I say instead.
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “Since the first day. When Maple…” He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t need to. I remember his strange behavior after the goat incident.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
“Same reason you didn’t just now.” He sets the brush down, giving the pony a final pat. “She’s clearly running from something. And after what happened with my last pack.” Liam shrugs.
I nod.
When Liam came to us seven years ago, he was broken, betrayed by his omega. She had broken his heart and ruined his trust. And now I’m asking him to try again, to risk his heart on an omega who might run at the first sign of our interest.
“What about Theo?” he asks. “Has he noticed?”
“He likes her,” I say. “He has told me a few times she’d be perfect for us, but he has no clue she’s our match.”
As a beta, Theo wouldn’t trigger her instincts like Liam and I do.
“He’s going to figure it out soon,” Liam says. “Theo’s too good at reading people.”
“Maybe that’s not a bad thing. She seems to trust him more than us.”
“She trusts him because he’s less of a threat to her.”
The words sting because they’re true, and her behaviour hints at a wariness toward alphas.
“So, what do we do?” I ask, running a hand through my hair in frustration.
Liam shrugs. “We do nothing. We respect her boundaries. Let her feel safe. We let her come to us.”
“And if her suppressants keep failing? If she goes into heat?”
The possibility has been haunting me since Liam confirmed she was an Omega. The thought of an unbonded omega in heat, surrounded by unmated alphas, could be precarious.
“We’ll deal with that if it happens. She typically seems to have her situation under control.” Liam says firmly. “Until then, we give her space.”
I nod, knowing he’s right, hating that he’s right.
Every alpha instinct in me is demanding I march over to her cottage, check that she’s eating properly, that she’s safe, that she knows she has protection if she needs it. The rational part of my brain knows that’s precisely the kind of behavior that would send her running.
The alpha part doesn’t give a damn about rational.
“What’s gotten into me, Liam?” I ask quietly. “I’ve known her for less than a month, and even before I knew she was ours—I want…” I trail off, not entirely sure what I want. Or rather, knowing precisely what I want but not articulating it without sounding like a possessive alphahole.
“You want her to feel safe here,” Liam finishes for me. “You want her to love this place like we do. To stay.”
“Yes.” This simple word encompasses so much more. I want her smile to come more easily. I want to hear her laugh without restraint. I don’t want her to look over her shoulder and flinch at sudden movements.
I want her to be ours .
Liam watches me, “We wait,” he says. Show her she can trust us, that we’re not like whatever… or whoever she’s running from,” he finishes on a growl.
“And if she still chooses to leave?”
The question hurts, but I need to hear him say it.
“We… we let her go.” The words sound dragged from him, rough with reluctance. “That’s what respecting her means.”
“I’m not sure I could do that,” I say.
“We don’t have a choice,” Liam answers. “Can’t force her; it’ll only make her run.”
I exhale slowly, knowing he’s right and hating it. I am also grateful for his steady presence and moral compass, which has always been stronger than mine.
“You’re a good man, Liam,” I tell him.
He shrugs, uncomfortable with the praise as always.
We fall into a companionable silence as he finishes with the pony.
My mind drifts back to Emma—her pale face, the shadows under her eyes, like when she first arrived.
Over the last two weeks, her cheeks have filled in, and there has been a brighter ease in how she conducts herself.
I could have sworn she was starting to feel more comfortable here.
Something is wrong beyond just failing suppressants.
She’s scared, and not just of us discovering her secret.
“What if she’s in some kind of trouble?” I say finally. “More than just hiding her designation.”
Liam nods slowly. “Wondered that, myself. The way she watches the entrance when staff arrive. How she tenses when strangers get too close.”
“She’s running from someone,” I conclude, the protective instinct flaring again. “Someone she’s afraid of.”
“If that’s true,” Liam says carefully, “we need to be even more careful. Give her no reason to run.”
“And if whoever she’s running from comes looking?”
Liam’s expression hardens, a glimpse of the fierce protector beneath his quiet exterior. “Then they’ll have to go through us.”
“Agreed,” I say, feeling slightly better. “I should check the books,” I say, straightening. “Distract myself.”
Liam nods, understanding my need for mundane tasks to occupy my mind. “I’ll be here if you need me.”
As I leave the barn, I glance towards Emma’s cottage. The windows are dark now, curtains drawn. Is she sleeping? Still in pain? The urge to check on her is a physical pull, but I force myself to turn away.
Respect her boundaries, I remind myself. Give her space.
But as I walk back to the main house, her scent still lingers in my memory, and I know—with bone-deep certainty—that no amount of distance or distraction will allow me to forget.
She is our mate, whether she knows it yet or not.
And I will do whatever it takes to make her feel safe.