He’s going to think it’s something else. He’s gonna look right past it. He’s looking for a heart.
Well. He has mine.
And I hope Cupid has one last arrow for him, or I’m going to have to leave the Comet Stalker so I don’t die of embarrassment.
JAXSON HAD AN UNFAIRadvantage. His nose. Canid senses would win over human senses any day, and he could follow Kaylie’s trail around the sun and back. Her scent had imprinted on his mind like only one other had ever done.
Alana. Heat and sun and plumcotta. Decadent and floral, and warm.
Kaylie—light and bright and sharp, with so many more notes of fear, so many foreign scents to his Canid nose—chocolate and almonds, and the citrine shampoo she used on her radiantly shiny black hair. It spilled like the night sky over her shoulders, and her skin had the soft glow of the moon from miles away.
Day and Night, literally, his two loves.
The realization made him halt in the middle of the lounge.
He was in love again. And it was wrong, maybe, or right, maybe, and he didn’t know. And he hated not knowing, because he should always know. He was the leader of a crew. He was in charge of lives and safety, a strong, cheerful presence that bore his grief with a smile in public and tears in private.
The feeling of panic was fast, like the sudden strike of a bullet, but this time, he didn’t end up flat on his back in the sand.
He stood next to a stack of games in a dimly lit lounge, heart racing, knowing Kaylie was standing behind him in the doorway.
“You need a hint?”
“No. I’m good.”
He was so far from good.
Follow her scent. Just cheat. It’s not cheating, it's who you are. What you can do.
I don’t know what to do, but I can play the game, and work the rest out later.
His nose worked and followed the path around the edge of the lounge. She must have walked the perimeter to throw him off. Clever.
Why was she so nervous? He could smell adrenaline coming off of her in waves.
Don’t be scared, he wanted to tell her.
Why was she scared?
And why did she smell like she was in heat? The shallower, fainter smell of humans in heat was something so subtle it was easy to ignore, but not with her. For a moment, he deviated from his route and passed close to her.
Both scents spiked—arousal and fear.
What the fuck do I do with that? She’s turned on and afraid? Afraid of me?
Aroused by me?
With a sudden growl, he lunged towards the snack bar, ignoring her little squeak of surprise when he abruptly changed course.
He yanked open drawers and doors, then stood frozen when he saw scraps of red paper in the waste chute. Moving slowly, he saw the red arrow, clumsy but recognizable, in the drawer.
One more arrow.
“Found it.”
“Good.” Her voice was a croak. A creak.
“An arrow. Cupid’s last arrow, huh?”
