Prologue #2
Vivienne unclasped the leather binder, laying it flat on the table between them. “I have their scent profiles right here. Why don’t we go through them again, and you can tell me how you feel?”
She peeled back the protective film on the first card.
From my spot against the wall, I watched Adeline lean in cautiously.
She took a delicate breath, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment.
Slowly, the burnt caramel edge of her anxiety smoothed out, replaced by a soft, pleasant flush on her cheeks.
She nodded with a tiny, genuine smile curving her lips. “It’s nice,” she whispered. “Warm.”
I opened my mouth to offer a supportive quip, but the words died in my throat as the scent hit me.
It drifted across the short distance of the room and slammed directly into my chest. Sandalwood.
Vetiver. A sharp, inviting spike of cinnamon.
My lungs seized. It wasn’t an Alpha scent—it lacked the heavy, demanding bite that usually triggered my defensive instincts.
It was a Beta. And it was so profoundly, undeniably safe that my knees physically weakened.
What the hell?
I shifted my weight, pressing my shoulder blades harder against the wall to keep myself upright, discreetly parting my lips to breathe through my mouth. I just needed to block it out. It was just a scent card. A stupid, artificially preserved piece of paper.
“Excellent,” Vivienne purred, oblivious to the sudden thrumming of my pulse. She turned the page, peeling back the next two films. “Now for the twins.”
Twins?
Adeline leaned in again. Her smile widened a fraction. “Oh. They’re very... grounded.”
Grounded. The word echoed in my head, completely inadequate for the tidal wave of pheromones currently drowning me in the corner of the room.
Sun-warmed oak and rich, worn leather rolled over me.
It was a shared base, but it split into two distinct, devastating directions.
One was patient and dry-sweet, like graham crackers.
The other was pure, unadulterated temptation—toasted marshmallow, sweet and warm with a dangerously delicious charred edge.
Heavy, liquid heat pooled low in my belly, dragging a gasp out of me that I barely managed to disguise as a cough. My hands curled into fists, my nails biting half-moons into my palms. The air in the room suddenly felt too thin, too hot. My jeans felt too tight.
Stop it. I tried everything to frantically pull myself together. Lock it down, Jules.
“And the next two,” Vivienne continued, flipping another page.
Don’t. Do not react. I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to distract myself, but my inner Omega was already rolling over, purring for more.
Woodsmoke and cardamom rushed into the room, the warmth of the scent promising the kind of deep, unconditional care that made my chest physically ache.
It tangled perfectly with a different, darker scent—weathered tobacco and cold stone, austere and distant but hiding a raw suede softness that made me want to claw my way closer to it just to see what else it was hiding.
My vision actually blurred as the room tilted on its axis.
My heart was thundering against my ribcage so violently I was sure they could hear it.
I clamped my mouth shut, grinding my teeth together, my hand already scrabbling for the door handle, but my body was completely bypassing my brain’s authority.
Every one of my cells was suddenly, acutely aware that I was hollow, and the things that could fix it, that could fill me were sitting in that binder.
Adeline was saying something, but her voice sounded like she was underwater.
She was gazing at the cards, looking polite and hopeful and perfectly sympathetic.
But she wasn’t reacting like this. She wasn’t coming apart at the seams, barely able to stay upright.
She wasn’t melting down the wall like I was while her thighs trembled and slick dampened her underwear.
Holy fuck, this can’t be happening…
“And finally,” Vivienne said, her voice dropping into a reverent hush. “The Alpha of the pack.”
She peeled back the last film.
The scent of wild sage enveloped me, its earthy notes dancing across my skin.
It twined with the warmth of cedarwood, the combination evoking a sense of strength and stability I never knew I wanted.
But it was the rich, impossibly sweet aroma of coffee that truly commanded the room, laying claim to every inch of space and every cell in my body.
It was pure, undiluted authority, the kind of scent that could bring an Omega to their knees with a single inhale.
I dragged in another lungful, loving and hating how it seemed to brand itself onto my soul. There was no question that this Alpha belonged to me. His signature was more than just a scent—it was a promise of permanence, of a bond that could never be broken.
It was home.
The final lock inside me snapped. The whine ripped out of me before I could even attempt to swallow it down. It was high-pitched, the unmistakably desperate sound of a needy Omega calling out to her mates.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Adeline froze. Slowly, she turned her head, her green eyes finding me where I was practically pinned against the wall, my chest heaving and my pupils blown wide.
She didn’t have to ask. She knew.
It wasn’t just that I had finally, truly matched.
She would’ve been happy for me any other day of the week.
It was that I had matched with her pack.
The pack that didn’t need children. Her last, best hope.
And my treacherous biology was currently screaming for them with an intensity her “scent sympathy” could never replicate.
Because what had just happened to me wasn’t a compatibility match, but a perfect scent match.
I knew it in my bones the same way I knew I’d just broken my best friend’s heart by accident.
Addy didn’t scream. She didn’t throw her pillow or yell at me. Instead, all the color drained from her face, leaving her looking as white as porcelain. For a long moment, she was devastatingly quiet, and then tears welled in her eyes, spilling over her lashes and trailing down her cheeks.
“Addy—” I choked out, barely able to speak. “Addy, please.”
I wanted to promise her that I’d walk away.
That we’d never speak of this, and she could go live a happy life with the pack that smelled like sin.
But the words turned to ash in my mouth.
Even though I never wanted a pack, my biology had already laid claim to them.
My inner Omega was viciously, possessively awake, and she would never deign to let another woman near the men she now considered hers.
That was the strength of a true scent match. I couldn’t change it or control it. Hell, I couldn’t even process it fast enough before Addy was standing and moving for the exit.
I tried to step toward her, but my legs refused to work right. It was like the scents pouring from the table had pinned me in place.
“A-Addy…” I reached for her, and she took a step back like I was poisonous.
“Don’t.” She fled from the room, not once looking back as the door clicked softly shut in her wake.
A sob tore from my throat, but I couldn’t move. I was paralyzed, caught between the agonizing guilt of betraying my best friend and the suffocating need that refused to let me walk away from the binder.
Vivienne sat in silence for a long moment looking from the closed door to the open binder, and finally, over to me.
She stood slowly, and the stiff, practiced primness she usually wore was entirely gone. Gathering the binder into her hands, she walked around the table and crossed to where I was still trembling against the wall.
Her gaze swept over me, taking in my flushed skin and the blown pupils I probably had. The composure and quick wit I prided myself on were both in absolute ruins in the aftermath.
Then, as if she’d made a decision, she nodded. “It seems, my dear,” Vivienne said softly, holding the binder out to me, “that this belongs to you.”