While they share similar facial structures—a strong nose, sharp jaw, and high cheekbones—Rowan has a paler complexion, thick stubble, and shaggy brown hair that falls charmingly into his eyes.
The duffel bag trembles slightly in my grip, and I pray he doesn’t notice it.
Scent match!My inner Omega screams.
He swallows, his throat bobbing, and it’s as if time stands still.
There’s just the Alpha in front of me, his nostrils subtly flaring as he scents me.
“Blair?” he asks quietly, searching my eyes.
“Yes?” I whisper.
He holds my gaze, not blinking, and I stare right back at him.
I’m sure both of us look insane to an observer, but the scent match is happening, rightnow.
Rowan is sea salt and rain. He’s a storm over a violent ocean, a whirlwind of emotions that swirl around me and threaten to drag me under his current.
He’s the one to snap out of it first, leaving me gawking in the doorway. “Hey. I’m Rowan. I’ll show you to the kittens.”
There’s no acknowledgment of what we are or what just happened.
Ryland’s brother is my scent match.
I follow his quick pace, heading past their living room, keeping my eyes on the back of Rowan’s black shirt.
Kittens first, scent match panic later.
There’s only so much I can handle at once, and despite my inner Omega’s demands, I keep her quiet and focus on the task at hand.
I spot Ash looming above my head in a cat tree placed in the hallway. He’s plopped into a thick black loaf, eyeing me with interest while Rowan leads me to a cracked cream-colored door.
Stepping inside, I take in the scene.
It must be a spare bedroom. The bed is made, the basic wooden dresser has nothing on it, and the matching nightstand is bare.
Sitting on the cream carpet is Ryland, dressed in a grey sweatshirt and holding a white fluffball to his chest. Two other kittens frolic on a teal blanket, play fighting with each other.
Nothing looks amiss with them.
Even the kitten in Ryland’s arms appears content, enjoying gentle chin scratches.
But when he sees me, he freezes and his eyes widen. “H-hi,” he croaks, then clears his throat. “Hi,” he says again, confident this time. “Long time no see.”
It’s endearing, and if I wasn’t so affected by their scents, I might tease him for it.
But as it stands, I’m taking in a scene of happy kittens while inhaling my two scent matches.
The duffel bag falls to the carpet with a softthud.
I spring into action.
“I heard they’re having problems,” I say, joining Ryland on the carpet. I sit cross legged next to him, steadying my breathing and ignoring the tingles that race down my spine.
I want to sit closer to him.
I want to invade his space and cross his boundaries in a very unhealthy way, and I want Rowan to do the same to me.
