“I was the one who found her,” I say. Her eyes widen. She sets the glass down. Her worry gets stronger, gaining an edge of true fear. I count the heartbeats roaring in my ears. The arousal from Carys finally fades away. Then I rip the bandaid. “It… it triggered a rut. We bonded while in the throes of it.”
I pull my hand, holding out the crescent shape of the bite on the pad of my thumb. The wounds have scabbed completely. A few more days, and it’ll only be a series of pink welts, the sameway Billie’s were last month before sinking into the silver scar that now straddles her collarbone.
There’s a moment of unending silence as the unspoken action those sentences imply sits between us. Her gaze is locked on my hand, her own frozen around the wine glass. Her hurt is more muted than I expect, a wealth of empathy accompanying it.
“Oh,” she whispers. “Okay.”
She takes a deep breath, and I can feel the mess of emotions swirling through her.
“And you haven’t talked about it with her obviously.” Her voice is oddly detached, like she’s talking about someone else’s design choices or her old coworkers’ lesson plans. “Since she’s still hasn’t surfaced from the heat.”
“Even if she had, I wouldn’t talk to her until we did. You’re more important to me than an accidental bond.”
She sucks in a breath, more empathy spreading under my chest.
“You’ve never had that happen before.” She’s still distant. “A rut, I mean.”
“I know.”
I shove my hand back into my pocket, not wanting to see the marks anymore. She frowns, her voice suddenly very much so in this moment.
“What made her so different? Dani went into heat with you around this summer, and you didn’t go into rut. You even managed to keep her calm until Mark could get to her.”
Last nail, meet coffin.
“Dani and I aren’t scent matches,” I say. “I was able to think around the edge in her scent because her scent itself hadn’t been calling to me for two months.”
Everything changes in a heartbeat, her hesitant hurt and empathy disappearing under a wave of shock and betrayal.
“Scent matches,” she whispers, and it’s there in her voice, too.
Betrayal.
Bile rushes up my throat, burning everything in its path as I fist both my hands. My scent pulses out from me, edged with my own fear and self-loathing. I only nod, not trusting myself to say a single word before she’s processed the depth of my fuck up.
“Months?” The word is sharp. “How long have you known she’s your scent match?”
It doesn’t even occur to me to lie, to soften the blow. That’s never been the dynamic we’ve had, and I love her too much to pussy foot something now.
“The very first time I saw her at the practice arena. She whispered something in your ear, and the orchid smell hit me like a blow to the chest.”
Her breathing catches for a moment. Her knuckles whiten on the wine glass before she slowly peels each finger off of it, crossing her arms over her stomach. There’s a storm of emotions through the bond, too fast to name let alone process.
“You’ve known since before Rhett,” she says. “Since I first got here.”
I swallow and nod once. She doesn’t say anything at all. I’m ready to crawl right out of my skin.
“We don’t need to make anything of it. I can’t take back the bond, but I can ignore it, I promise,” I say into the horrid quiet. “If you don’t want to add them in and build a true pack, we won’t. I just want you.”
“Me?” Her voice is so small. Tears line her lashes. Fuck everything about me, I’ve made hercry. I want to gather her in my arms. I reach for her, but she flinches away. My heart drops to the fucking floor. “She’s your scent match.”
“I know.” My voice cracks. Another pulse of heartbreak across the bond. “And I’ll never talk to her again if that’s whatyou need, Bee. I’ll never talk to either of them again. You tell me, and it’s done.”
Her eyes harden, her jaw clenching as her shoulders stiffen.
“You can’t promise me that.”
“I will,” I argue.
