I slide off the chair, slip on my shoes, and cross the yard.
Their kitchen is the opposite of ours.
Smaller, cluttered in a cozy way, every surface bearing the chaos of people who actually live here. There's a dish towel thrown over a chair, a potted herb on the windowsill, an open cookbook with flour dusting the pages. The table's half-covered in mugs and a plate piled with cookies.
Finn meets me at the back door, grinning like I'm the missing piece of his evening.
"There she is. Our favorite neighbor. You actually came."
"I heard there were cookies. I'm only here for those."
"Rude," he says cheerfully, then leans in, sniffing the air near my shoulder.
His smile falters.
Alex and Malcolm are at the table. Alex is leaning back in his chair, long frame loose, but his eyes sharpen asFinn's expression changes. Malcolm is pouring tea, movements smooth. Both of them look up at once.
Finn sniffs again, brow furrowing.
"Okay. First question: why are you on scent blockers?"
I blink. "I'm not."
He squints. "You'd lie about a lot of things. You would not lie to me about chemistry."
"I'm not using anything. No blockers. No dampeners. Nothing from the registry that isn't mandatory."
Alex pushes off the table and stands, moving closer. He circles me once, not close enough to crowd.
He inhales, slow and deep.
"You barely read omega," he says quietly. "If I hadn’t already scented you, I'd peg you as beta with some history."
Malcolm sets the teapot down harder than necessary. "What happened to your scent? Last time you were here, you were pure honey trying to pretend she wasn't. Now you're—"
He searches for a word, comes up with nothing, shakes his head.
"Now you're quiet," Finn supplies, trying for light and failing. "Too quiet."
I look past them at the kettle. My hands are steady when I shrug.
"Guess I ran out of omega."
It lands badly. All three of them look confused.
Finn opens his mouth. "That's not how—"
I reach for distraction.
"What did I smell like before? To you."
Finn's eyes soften.
"Warm vanilla and wildflowers after rain. Like walking past a bakery on a spring morning with the window open."
Alex nods. "And a hint of cinnamon when you were happy. It got sharper when you laughed."
Malcolm's mouth tilts. "You smelled like someone who'd been shattered and glued herself back together with sugar. Sweet. A little sharp at the edges. Honest."
