I shake my head, pulling in a deep breath, and then open the back door. Her scent hits me like a bomb’s gone off, leaving nothing but orchids behind. The need to find her, to knot her, races through me nearly as fast as the scent itself. Ashton grunts next to me, but his body doesn’t tense. There’s the low rumble of purring, and then I hear Carys crying. I’m rushing through the back hallway, turning on the back light, nearly kicking over the flowers Paxton was bringing to her.
“Shit,” Ashton murmurs, following after me.
Paxton kneels in the center of the work room, barely out of view of the front part of the shop. He holds a mostly naked Carys against his chest, his eyes wild, his pupils completely blown despite the bright overhead lights—almost like he has a concussion. His shirt is torn open, leaving most of his torso visible. Tears wet large portions of his skin, like she’s been rubbing against him in search of tactile comfort. Her hair tumbles down her back, blocking the majority of her skin. I start to breathe a sigh of relief. We got here in time to keep this from being a complete disaster. She squirms against my brother, like she’s trying to get comfortable. It’s only then I realize her legs are straddling his, her knees pressing into his hips.
Bile rises in my throat.
“Baby girl,” I whisper.
I take a step toward her and then another one, Ashton right on my heels. She flinches at my voice, twisting toward me. Her hair falls away, revealing smears of blood on Carys’s shoulder and hip.
“Jesus, you’re bleeding.”
Carys’s eyes are glassy, but they focus as she sees me.
“Lemongrass,” she whispers. Her scent pulses out from her, like it’s beckoning me toward her. “Cypress and lemongrass.”
Paxton rumbles a warning growl as Ashton and I close a bit more of the distance. She relaxes into his chest for a fewmoments and his arms tighten around her back, smearing more of the blood and getting it in her hair. There’s a moment where they both relax, and then Carys whimpers again, fresh tears welling in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. Paxton palms her cheek and pulls her to him, another streak of tears wetting his chest, his purr getting even louder, cutting off his growl.
Fuck.
“He’s in rut,” I whisper tonelessly. “And I’m pretty sure…”
I can’t say the words.
Ashton freezes, twisting until he’s looking toward the back entrance. I’m frozen, too, not sure what to do for either of them, my own sanity slowly falling apart under the siren call that is Carys’s perfume.
“There’s a purifier in the corner,” I say. I tilt my head toward the left. “It’s pretty damn strong. It might be enough to keep me from… fromthat.”
From becoming my brother, lost to his instincts, no rationality left until the rut fades over the next few hours. As long as I can get him pulled away from her and in a room without her scent.
Ashton crosses the room without getting any closer to my brother. Paxton isn’t appeased, curling himself over Carys and baring his teeth as another protective snarl overrides his purr. She whimpers and shifts in his lap like she’s uncomfortable. Her skirt moves, and then I really do want to puke.
After a minute, the worst of her scent fades, and the haze of instinct clouding my mind does with it. I run my hand through my hair and over my face, trying to figure out how to get them both out of here.
How long have they been knotted?
Fuck, her heat must have been triggered for hours without her realizing what it was if she’s still this messed up after knotting already. More bile creeps up my throat.
Ashton edges along the wall, his gaze trained on my brother.
“Cypress is Paxton’s scent, right?” he asks when he’s at my shoulder again, not looking at either of them.
“Yeah,” I manage to say.
“What are the odds that he’s also a match? She mentioned both of your scents, and he’s calming her the same way I bet you’ve been doing the last couple of weeks.”
“It would explain how he dropped into rut so fast, too,” I admit. My stomach twists, that nervous band tightening around my ribs. His phone rings before I can come up with anything else to say. Carys flinches at the sound, devolving into tears again.
“Yeah?” Ashton answers the phone.
I tune him out and slowly edge closer, pausing every few inches to let Paxton adjust to me getting nearer to both of them. True fear rips through me, forcing my heart into a dead sprint that I can hear echoing in my ears. What if he views me as a threat instead of someone safe for Carys? I don’t want to have to hurt him, not if he’s also her match. That’ll just make her more hysterical. And if he tries to go after me while still knotted, it’ll be the worst pain imaginable for her.
His glazed eyes follow my movement, but his purr doesn’t morph into one of those protective growls. I sink into a crouch in front of him, gently pushing Carys’s hair off her face. She shudders, and then there’s the distinct, wet sound of a knot releasing. Tension in her body falls away. I run my thumb over her cheekbone. A new wave of her scent washes over me. I hold my breath. She pushes into my touch, seeking anything that will ease her still-present pain and fear.
“Yeah, it’s both brothers,” Ashton murmurs somewhere behind me.
The blood on her shoulder is still wet, and I carefully wipe it away, not worrying about the jeans I’m ruining as I clean off my hand.
