At first, I think it's just normal noise. Background static.
Then a tone changes.
Sharp. High.
"—not the point, Eli."
Marie.
My shoulders tense.
I keep chopping, quieter.
"I'm saying," she continues, voice tighter, "that you're neglecting me."
The knife pauses halfway through a carrot.
Neglect.
The word hangs in the air like a thrown plate.
Eli answers, low and even, but he's closer to the kitchen, so his words come through clearer. "I'm notneglecting you. I've been with you three nights out of the last week, Marie."
"And the other four? In Vee's nest."
My chest constricts.
I set the knife down because my fingers feel suddenly unreliable.
"She needs someone, too."
He doesn'tsay more than you. He's careful. Always careful.
But I hear the ghost of it anyway.
"She has three alphas, Eli. Three. I have one and a half. Drake is spread thin and Ragon is… Ragon. You're my scent match. You're supposed to be with me more than her, not the other way around."
Scent match.
The phrase scrapes across my skin like sandpaper.
I feel watched even though I'm alone in the kitchen with vegetables.
"We're not talking about supposed to. We're talking about what's happening. Vee has one alpha who's actually in her bed right now. You want me to leave her alone so you can have more of what you already have?"
"I want my scent match. Every night. That's what this is supposed to be. You're supposed to prioritize me."
My heart does a complicated, ugly thing.
Of course she thinks that.
Of course she says it out loud.
She's not wrong, on paper. Registry pamphlets go on at length about scent matches. Primary bonds. Priority. All the things I'm not.
I'm halfway to moving toward the hall when another voice slides in.
Ragon.
