Archer’s nose drops behind my ear.
“Lavender,” he murmurs. “Jasmine. Apples.”
The purr in his voice sends my body spiraling.
Slick gushes as my fingers clutch his muscled arms, my face burying into his chest. Black currant, leather, and musk wrap around me, my body responding before my mind can catch up. My scent blooms, perfuming the air, letting him know exactly how much I crave his knot.
His gaze sharpens at the alphas approaching down the hallway. “This little omega belongs to my pack,” he growls fiercely.
A guttural rumble vibrates in his chest as he pulls me possessively close, teeth barely brushing the seam of my neck near my shoulder, as if ready to bite.
“Scent match. Mate,” he snarls through clenched teeth, struggling to hold back.
Before I see him, Dustin’s scent hits me, pine and vanilla, intoxicating and familiar.
“Little omega,” Dustin’s growl whispers as he nuzzles my neck from the left.
Scenes like this between omegas and their alpha packs aren’t unusual on campus.
Dustin’s green eyes blow wide as he purrs into my hair, the sound undoing me completely.
“I want your knots,” I whimper between my true mates.
My fingers slip into Dustin’s inky hair. His eyes close, his expression softening in a way that steals my breath. His hand tightens on my waist.
“Knot,” he murmurs. “Rut.”
Hunger bleeds through every word.
Then he tears himself away, fists clenched, chest heaving. Rage rolls off him in waves.
“Don’t fucking go near my omega,” Dustin roars.
The haze snaps.
“Not yours,” I bite out glaring between Archer and Dustin as I reach into my backpack pulling out my headphones.
They both look like wild beasts, poised to attack.
I slide the headphones over my ears. “Now that I know what your pack truly is, Legacy Wolves, I want nothing to do with you. Our scent match means nothing. You abandoned me long ago. I’m going to meet my real potential mate.”
“Harper,” Archer warns, irritation clear in his eyes.
I avoid Dustin’s stare as I press play on my phone. Music blasts through my noise-canceling headphones.
Spinning on my heel, I storm out of the building, unsure if they’re truly murderers. I’ll have to investigate further.
CHAPTER SEVEN
DUSTIN
Hands stuffed in my pockets; I stare out the window of the Wolves legacy headquarters. “What the fuck was that?” I growl.
“I don’t know, Dustin,” Archer admits. “I was sitting next to her and couldn’t smell her. Maybe my close proximity awakened her.”
Sawyer chuckles.
I turn to my pack brothers sitting around the conference table.
