Slow. Deep.
Andfuck, has something stirred her up.
The shift inside me is immediate; alpha instinct snapping awake, attention narrowing, the room suddenly feeling too small for the space between us.
“Still riding high from the win?” I ask. “You smell like adrenaline.”
Her shoulders tense slightly.
“And something else,” I add before I can stop myself.
Her eyes lift to mine.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not—” I lift a hand, placating, though my pulse has started to kick. “Not saying it’s a bad thing. Just… noticing.”
I push off the counter, closing some of the distance—not crowding her, not touching. Just enough that my presence registers.
Her scent spikes.
There it is.
I breathe in again, even deeper this time.
“You’ve been trying to keep it in check, haven’t you?”
“Connor—”
“You’ve been surrounded by alphas all day,” I say quietly. “Allweek,even. With no break, or backup, or an alpha of your own to go home to for reprieve. No real downtime.”
“That’s part of the job,” she says, but her voice has gone tight.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “Doesn’t mean your instincts don’t notice.”
Her pupils dilate, and the air between us turned charged in that unmistakable way that has nothing to do with intention and everything to do with biology.
“You’re imagining things,” she says, turning slightly toward the door.
But she doesn’t move her feet.
“You’re not hiding it,” I say softly. “It’s all over this room.”
I take one slow step closer, then another, giving her every chance to stop me.
She doesn’t.
Her breath catches—just a little—and that’s when I know this isn’t one-sided. She’s fighting it, sure, but she’s not shutting it down.
Neither am I.
The quiet presses in around us, heavy and intimate, and for the first time all day I’m acutely aware that this isn’t just Beau’s tension anymore. This is bigger.
Pack-deep, and dangerous.
Her hand tightens around the strap of her bag, knuckles white.
“I… I should go.”
