What a terrible time to feel heat lick down my spine. It's teasing and puts images in my head that I'm nowhere near ready to look at. But I can't help it. I shift backward, biting down the groan when I realize I'm getting slippery between my legs. Suddenly my scent floods the air. I've been aware of it, always, but never more so since I became a wolf. I smell like flowers.Jasmine, sweet and bright. And honey. But right now, they take on an even sweeter tinge.
I let out a whimper. I don't even mean to, and I blame my omega, but the moment the sound escapes my lips, both wolves tense. Orion's hand closes around one of the mismatched kitchen chairs, and it scrapes against the floor. Grayson takes a step toward me, letting out another low rumble. I can't bring myself to meet their eyes. I grit my teeth, feeling my back molars grind against each other. It does nothing to abate the heat burning through my skin, lower down my abdomen.
"I can't—this isn't—" A last-ditch effort to change the trajectory of my traitorous body, I look directly into Grayson's eyes. "Your brother tried to kill me!"
If there was anything that would douse the flames, it's that. But he doesn't flinch. He tilts his head, and if anything, he softens. As much as a man hard as him can.
I don't know where all my fear went. It used to be there for days, weeks, months. But right now, it's gone.
Yes, Doc told me they are different people, but still. They looksomuch alike.
Tentatively, I eye him up and down, bracing for any quick movement, but when he doesn't make any, I take a step forward. My hand shakes as I reach out.
His eyes are molten—lighter green, like sage, that seem to glow in this dim cabin light. I have to reach up, he's so much taller than me. He knows where I'm headed, and leans his head down so I can graze my fingertips over his left eye, tracing my thumb over his brow. He shivers and takes a sharp inhale.
He's not Silas.
If the long, dark hair, half-tied back with a leather strap, and the lack of scar didn't tell me… his demeanor is different. I didn't spend enough time with Silas to know his personality, but he had this unusual blend of violent charisma that oozed off ofhim. The man in front of me—Grayson—may be just as arrogant as his twin, but he's more standoffish. Where Silas was reckless, Grayson is all coiled control.
And right now, that determination glows beneath his bright green eyes.
And he takes a step toward me, forcing me backward.
Well, fuck.
That backfired.
He takes another step, and my ass hits the kitchen counter.
He can sense my willingness to at least hear him out. Before he nudges further against my boundaries, I clear my throat, finding it surprisingly dry. "Look. Listen. I'm, umm… I know you're not him. So, we're good. Don't worry. I won't start screaming and throwing things at you again. Cool?"
Grayson ignores me. "I can smell your perfume. It seeps from between your legs, sweeter than anything I could ever imagine."
I look to Orion for help, but he's just tilting his head, watching curiously to see what I'll do, to see what Grayson will do. I almost call him a traitor, but Grayson's scent licks against me, and I suck in a sharp breath.
"Listen, I'm not… I don't know why my wolf keeps calling you my mate or whatever—"
"Wolves form packs. Bonded units, made up of any combination of designations. Alpha, Beta, Delta. Some are large, some small, only two shifters."
"That's nice. Really nice. But, uhh—"
"What do you know of the Moon Goddess?"
"Who?"
"Orion told me how little you know of our culture, so I'm explaining. The Moon Goddess is the magic within the earth. She is responsible for all of our power. All shifters, all witches, all magical beings."
"Are there other kinds of shifters?"
"Yes, but they are rare. The Moon Goddess chose which animals to share her magic with many eons ago. Some have become extinct. Many have dwindled. Wolves have thrived."
"Why?"
I wasn't expecting a history lesson. And with the way Grayson is still leaning toward me, pushing me into the counter like his brother did at that party months ago, I shouldn't be turned on. But he might as well be talking about my scent with the way his voice rumbles. Deep, sexy, unwavering.
"Because wolves are adaptable. Intelligent, social, diverse, and vital to the balance of the earth. Now, stop interrupting."
"Rude," I mumble.
