He breathed in deeply, his chest expanding, his eyesclosing.
"Her scent," he said, his voice rough. "It's really strong."
"Her heat's close."
"No, I mean—" He opened his eyes, looking at me. "She smells like a new car. That leather interior smell. Rich and clean."
I stared at him.
Fritz moved closer, inhaling. "I don't smell leather."
"You don't?" Hastings frowned. "It's everywhere."
"I smell earth," Fritz said slowly. "Rain and something woody. Like cedarwood."
"Cedarwood?" Hastings turned to him. "I don't smell that at all."
My heart started to pound.
"I smell vanilla and rain," I said, my voice steady despite the chaos in my head. "That's all I've ever smelled on her."
The three of us stood there, staring at each other.
Then I smiled.
"That means she has four scents."
Hastings went very still. "Four?"
"I can smell rain and vanilla," I repeated.
Fritz's eyes widened. "And I can smell rain and cedarwood."
Hastings breathed in again, deeper this time, his whole body tense. "And I can smell rain and leather."
The words hung in the air between us.
Four scents.
Rain was the common thread, the one we could all smell. But each of us also smelled something unique, something that called to us specifically.
Vanilla for me. Cedarwood for Fritz. Leather for Hastings.
I looked at Hastings, at the way his face had gone pale, at the way his hands had started to shake.
“She has my scent profile.” He was a rare alpha. One of the few born with four scents instead of the usual two or three. It made him powerful, dominant, but it also made him lonely as an alpha who made work his life because he never thought he’d ever scent with an omega.
Because what omega could ever match four scents?
Apparently, Presley could.
I grinned. “And she’ll realize we are her scent matches in her heat.”
"I need a drink," Hastings replied.
The lounge was dark, lit only by the lamp in the corner and the glow of the street lamp through the window.
I poured three glasses of whiskey, handed them out, and dropped onto the sofa.
