Chapter 7 Scent of the Night Before
I woke up feeling like I hadn’t slept at all. My body was fine, but my mind wasn’t.
The first thought I had was him. I shut it down hard. I had not given him permission to live in my head. He had taken the spot anyway.
My cat purred inside me, smug and pleased with herself. Last night she had acted like a kitten with a crush, a reckless, scent-drunk idiot, and the wolf had gone along with it, which somehow made it worse.
I swung my legs out of bed and stood, stretching until my shoulders loosened. A hot shower helped clear the fog. Clothes helped more. High-waisted jeans, an oversized crewneck half tucked in. Comfortable. Normal. Something I could hide inside.
Friday mornings meant no practice, so I was in the kitchen later than usual. Mira and Talia were already there, perched at the counter with mugs in hand, still in pajamas, hair messy from sleep. I almost never saw them in the mornings.
Mira noticed me first. Small and wiry, dark hair pulled into a loose braid over one shoulder, eyes sharp even when she was half awake. A fox shifter. Quick, clever, nosy in a way she thought she hid well.
“Morning,” she said.
Talia lifted her hand in a sleepy wave. Taller, softer, curls piled on top of her head in a lopsided knot. Also a fox shifter.
“Look who’s actually here at a normal hour,” Mira said. “No sunrise run today?”
“Day off.”
Talia nudged a plate toward me. “There’s food if you want.”
“I’m good.” I reached for a glass and filled it with water, the coolness grounding me for a moment.
I leaned against the counter while they talked. Plans for the weekend. Someone’s party tonight. Normal conversation. I nodded when I needed to, but my thoughts drifted back to the forest. To the wolf.
Wolves didn’t act like that. Cats didn’t act like that. Not with strangers. Not with predators.
I rinsed my glass before the thought could settle. I would probably never see the wolf again. I had class. I had work to do. I had more important things to focus on. Like surveillance on Richard.
“I’m heading out,” I said.
“See you,” Mira replied.
The walk to campus didn’t clear my head as much as I wanted it to, and the morning passed in a haze of half-formed notes.
By lunch, I felt wrung out. I joined the cafeteria line behind a cluster of students when Cassidy materialized beside me.
“Harper. You look like you need three coffees.”
I made a vague sound.
She launched into a story about her smoke detector going off at six that morning. I nodded along, half listening, until a faint scent brushed past my senses.
My cat focused instantly.
I kept my expression neutral and scanned the room. Nothing obvious. The scent lingered for a moment, then slipped away.
My gaze drifted past Cassidy’s shoulder and landed on Jackson at the start of the line. He was talking to another guy, relaxed and laughing. He paused mid-sentence and looked over.
Our eyes met for a single charged heartbeat.
My cat perked up, ears forward, leaning inside me like she wanted to press her face to the bars of a cage. Curiosity rolled through her, bright and hungry.
Absolutely not, I told her.
She ignored me.
I looked away first, jaw tight. I was not doing this again.
Cassidy followed me to a table and slid into the seat across from me before I could even sit. “I figured we could eat together,” she said, as if it was obvious.
I didn’t argue.
She kept talking between bites, bouncing from topic to topic. My cat stayed alert, one ear still tuned toward Jackson.
“You’re really quiet today,” Cassidy said around a bite of salad. “Even more than usual.”
“I’m fine.”
She gave me a look that said she didn’t believe me, but she didn’t push. That was one thing I appreciated about her.
We finished eating. Cassidy waved goodbye and headed off. I dropped off my tray and made it through two more lectures before heading to the gym.
By the time I reached the athletic center two hours later, the halls were full of athletes. I changed quickly, tied my hair back, and stepped into the weight room.
The men’s team was there.
I stood in the doorway for one second too long. Cassidy walked into my back.
“Oh,” she said, looking past me. “Right, I keep forgetting to mention. Joint sessions on Fridays and Saturdays. Men’s and women’s track together.” She paused. “Jackson’s on the men’s team, by the way.”
My cat had already located him across the room and seemed utterly delighted about it.
I sighed. Of course he was.
I walked to my rack and did not respond, which was safer for everyone.
Coach Ramirez, who oversaw the weight room, called out reminders near the whiteboard. Metal clanged. Music thumped. The room smelled of sweat, rubber, and too many bodies. Cassidy peeled off toward her station.
My rack sat closer to the middle. Diagonally from mine, Jackson was at the bench press.
Naomi had already spotted him. She drifted toward his rack, ponytail swinging, smile dialed up high, slipping into the platform beside his even though her assigned station was elsewhere.
“Naomi,” Coach said without looking up from his clipboard. “Your rack is number six. Not two. Move.”
Her smile tightened. She shot me a glare like it was somehow my fault, then sauntered toward her spot. She lasted maybe a minute before grabbing a plate and drifting back toward Jackson, pretending she needed a different weight.
I rolled my eyes, adjusted my grip on the bar, and began my first set. My cat watched him the entire time and I pretended not to notice.
I was three reps into my second set when the scent hit me again. The same faint thread from earlier, now stronger in the enclosed space. I finished the rep, racked the bar, and added weight, using the motion to scan the room.
The scent kept surfacing beneath the sweat and metal.
I stepped back under the bar and started my next set.
Down. Up. Down. Up.
Every time I rose, Jackson was in my peripheral vision, sliding a plate onto the bench press with an easy strength that made the metal look lighter than it was. His shirt clung damp at the neckline. A few strands of dark hair had fallen loose near his forehead.
Alpha. You could see it even if you didn’t know what you were looking at.
Naomi hovered beside him, leaning in. My shifter hearing caught her words easily.
“Coach said the relay lineup might change before the meet,” she said. “Honestly, I don’t know why he’s so impressed. Transfer from nowhere. For all we know she was cut from her last school.”
Jackson didn’t look at her. He lay back, gripped the bar, and pressed it cleanly. Muscles tightened under the strain.
Naomi kept going. “I don’t know why Coach keeps Harper on the relay list. She’s so antisocial. It’s weird. Honestly she gives me a bad feeling. Like something’s not right with her. Girls like that always have a reason for being alone…”
The bar came down once more. Up again. Then he racked the bar with a solid clank and sat up. “You shouldn’t talk about teammates like that.”
It was the first time I’d ever heard him speak. His voice was low, deep, a little rough from exertion. It slid through the noise and settled under my skin. My breath caught. My cat pushed forward, ears pricked.
Curiosity killed the cat, I warned.
She flicked her tail at me, unimpressed.
Naomi faltered. “I’m just saying—”
“Don’t,” he said. “It’s not a good look.”
He turned his head. His eyes found mine across the room.
The moment stretched, heavy with something I didn’t want to name.
Then Naomi noticed where he was looking.
Her expression twisted, and she yanked her barbell off the floor with far more force than necessary, the plates rattling as she jerked into her reps.
I looked away first. I had to. But even then I felt him watching me, heat crawling up my spine.
I finished my set, stepped out from under the bar, and shook out my legs. The scent drifted toward me again, stronger now with the air currents.
I wiped my palms, grabbed my towel, and moved toward the dumbbell rack. At the same time, Jackson left the bench and headed toward the cable machines.
We crossed paths in the aisle. As I passed him, the scent hit me fully.
Familiar. Unmistakable.
My step stalled for half a second, then I forced myself to keep moving.
Shifter scents shifted between forms — muted in human shape, raw in animal. That was why I hadn’t placed it sooner.
Last night, I had smelled the wolf.
Now the two overlapped.
Not perfectly. Not cleanly.
But enough.
It was Jackson Black.