Evander #3
He sneers, then pats me on the back with a grin. “Got a meeting in a few. Let’s hope I’m not late now that my son’s stolen my only concept of telling time.”
I fake a laugh. “Hey, since you’re here, let me ask you something. Do you happen to know the omega first-year trainee in the fashion department?”
“I mean, I’d be a pretty shit COO if I wasn’t aware of my staff,” he says with a smirk. “Just kidding—don’t dare quiz me on it.”
“I would never.”
Not only does Uri know every single member of his staff, he could probably name their entire fucking bloodline and star signs.
How he gets anything done when he’s clearly never out of the fucking break room, I’ll never know.
“There’s only the one, actually. Cassidy Hargrove—Sterling’s cousin, on her dad’s side.”
Confirmation. Thank fuck for Uri.
“I see,” I say, raising a brow. “What’s she like?”
“She’s sweet. We were at her… party thing once she was done with school. Didn’t stay long because Em and Dellan were home alone.”
If this were any other time, I’d lecture them for leaving my sister and nephew home alone when she was only four weeks after giving birth.
“Her graduation party, you dick,” I say, shaking my head.
“Who fucking cares. I’d not have bothered going, but Emme kicked us all out.” He shrugs, slapping his trademark smile on his face as two betas walk past us. I don’t bother greeting them. “Why are you asking about Cassie, anyway?”
Cassie.
Fuck. Cassidy suited her, but Cassie is much softer.
Sweeter, even.
“No reason,” I lie easily. “She was missing from the meeting we just had, and I wanted to check in on her.” I give him a fake smile. “Thanks, Bro. See you later.”
I stride past him without waiting, before he can ask more questions.
Now’s not the time to get sidetracked.
With a surname now, I scan the board, searching for the hiding omega, but, of course, that would be too fucking easy.
Instead, I locate Mercer’s office and head there because any alpha with half a brain would keep an omega like her close.
He doesn’t.
Standing outside his empty office, irritation claws its way up my spine. The entire section is too quiet.
Where the fuck is she?
I rub at my jaw, the tension there sharp and unfamiliar.
I turn left on instinct alone. There’s no logic behind it—no reason to choose one corridor over the other.
And yet, something keeps pulling me forward.
It’s subtle at first. I don’t notice what it is that’s causing my jaw to ache and my heart to race.
Then, it hits me.
The scent.
Her scent.
My entire body locks as recognition slams into me, violent and absolute. My lungs drag in a breath before I can stop it, instincts overriding thought completely. I’m dragging the scent into my lungs as fast as I can because my body knows I’ll die without it.
My glands flare instantly, pheromones threatening to flood the corridor—hell, the entire floor—a heat blooming beneath my skin hard enough to hurt.
Fuck.
Faint. Unmistakable.
Whoever this scent belongs to, she’s mine. My mate. My scent match. My fucking soulmate.
Fuck.
Her scent is warm and soft—impossibly familiar, despite knowing I’ve never smelled anything like it before. Sweet enough to make my fucking teeth ache.
Strawberry cream and vanilla musk—soft, sugary, sweetness, completely at odds with the dark, musty corridor.
Like something precious hidden in the wrong place.
My control snaps.
My body moves before my mind catches up, dragged forward by something deeper than thought. Each step sharpens it, strengthens it, until it wraps around me completely—thick, intoxicating, impossible to fight.
My knot swells heavy and reactive, an instinctive response I haven’t felt since puberty.
Too fast.
Too much.
Too fucking real.
I reach the end door and shove it open, unable to stop myself.
And there she fucking is.
The clumsy omega from this morning. The omega who has been hiding from me all fucking day.
Soft. Small. Perfect.
And she’s mine.
She just doesn’t know it yet.
Everything else is irrelevant. There’s only this moment now.
Only her scent.
Only her.
Her scent floods the room, clinging to the air, soaked into the space around her, already tangling with mine like it belongs there.
I glance around quickly, noting her desk, her things, and how unlike her it all seems.
My chest tightens painfully, and everything else disappears.
I’ve finally found what I’ve been searching for.
There’s only her.
Only mine.
My teeth grind together as the realisation begins to settle, and I have to fight back the urge to do something stupid.
I’ve never felt this out of control, so unable to hold back my baser instincts. Not since I first presented as an alpha and any little thing sent me into a rut.
“Cassie,” I say, my voice rougher than intended as I stare at the omega my entire body already recognises as mine. At the omega I’ve been obsessed with all fucking day.
Somehow, the feral part of me must have recognised her immediately.
She’s no longer wearing the coffee-stained outfit. Instead, a silver dress clings to her slim frame.
She startles, rising slowly from her desk, her gaze flicking instinctively—not to me, but to the nest beside her.
I follow it instinctively, and my breath catches.
An urge hits hard—visceral, overwhelming—to step closer to the fabrics.
To beg her to let me inside it.
To praise her for building something so perfect for us before she even knew she was mine.
To scent it properly until nobody could mistake who belongs in there with her.
To cover every inch of it with me.
To claim a place beside her… to claim space inside her.
My control strains.
“Fuck,” I whisper because I can already smell my arousal and possessiveness bleeding into the air around us.
“Um, Mr… um, sir,” she stammers, wringing her hands.
The silver dress she’s now wearing is slinky and very pretty. It accentuates the soft omega curves of her slender figure, dipping low enough between her breasts to make my mouth water.
Her neck is bare, her scent glands exposed and vulnerable enough to make my teeth ache. Her earlier jewellery is gone, and I know I can’t just stare at that spot.
Where my mark should go.
Where I already ache to put it.
“Evander,” I say gruffly. “Evan. Ev. Van. Whatever you want to call me, Omega. I think I’d answer to anything from you.”
She bites her lip, and I move without thinking, closing the distance, reaching across her desk to still the motion—my thumb freeing her bottom lip before I can stop myself.
“Don’t bite that lip again,” I growl reflexively, and the second she flinches, regret crashes through me.
The reaction is instant, small enough that someone else might have missed it—but I don’t. I see the way her shoulders tense, the way her lips part like she wants to say something and can’t quite force the words out.
Worse, I can smell it.
Her scent changes so sharply it almost makes me recoil, fear souring the sweetness that had only moments ago wrapped itself around me so perfectly.
Fuck.
It hits me like a blow to the chest. She should never smell afraid around me—never because of me.
“Um… okay,” she whispers, glancing towards the door like she’s already planning to run from me.
Her instinct to flee tears something vicious open inside me.
“What do you want me to call you?” she asks again, quieter this time.
There’s hurt in her scent now, too, woven beneath the fear, and I don’t know what the fuck to do with that.
Fear, I understand. Fear, I know how to fix.
Hurt is worse.
Hurt means the damage is already done, and judging by the way she’s looking at me, I’m the one who did it.
When she makes a tiny sound in the back of her throat—distressed, miserable, fragile enough to make my glands flare painfully beneath my skin—I stop thinking entirely and give in to pure instinct.
I don’t stop myself.
I don’t want to.
I round the desk and pull her into me, one hand bracing her back, the other settling at her shoulder, holding her against me as I lower my head slightly.
“Shh,” I murmur, lowering my voice, forcing calm into it.
Instinct takes over completely.
My glands flare, heat blooming beneath my skin as pheromones push out without permission—thick, heavy, and designed to soothe her, settle her, force calm into her bones.
“Easy, Omega,” I murmur. “I’ve got you now. You’re safe with me.”
She melts into my hold, despite her head not even reaching my shoulders, like she recognises me, too.
Tiny, delicate, precious.
“My omega,” I murmur helplessly, the words slipping out before I can stop them. I rock her against me, the two of us swaying together slowly.
“It’s okay. I’m here now. I’ll take care of it,” I tell her, meaning every word.
“Whatever they’ve done to you here, I’ll sort it out.
Nobody gets to you. You don’t need to keep struggling through work that’s clearly making you miserable.
You don’t need to keep forcing yourself to do something you’re not suited for, not when I can take care of—”
“Excuse me?” The words are sharp enough to cut straight through instinct.
She shoves against my chest, and although she doesn’t have the size or strength to make any real impact, I let her go immediately, more shocked than I should be by her resisting me at all.
For a second, all I can do is stare at her.
Her green eyes are bright with fury, her cheeks flushed, her entire body trembling with emotion. Even her scent turns sharp against me.
The soft, sweet warmth of it is still there, but now it’s edged with something burnt and biting, like sugar left too long over flame.
Every breath burns going down.
She’s furious, the sharp edge of it flooding the room.
I stare at her, genuinely confused. What the fuck did I say?
“Yes, my little—” I cut myself off too late. “Daisy.”
I reach for her again, trying to pull her back into my arms, where she had finally started relaxing against me.
She bats my hand away when I reach for her again, and the tiny growl that leaves her is pathetic by any real standard, but I still feel it like a warning.