"You'll be fine," I say.
She watches me braid my hair in the mirror. "Are you scared?"
"Of what?"
"Of him. Of what he'll think of you."
The honesty in her voice almost undoes me.
"Terrified," I admit.
She nods slowly. "Me too."
For a moment, we're just two omegas standing in a bedroom, both afraid of being measured and found wanting.
Then she stands, smooths her dress. "Well. At least we'll be terrified together."
She leaves, and I finish my braid alone.
Downstairs, I can hear movement. Ragon giving quiet instructions. Drake laughing nervously. Eli's calmer voice smoothing over whatever tension is building.
At four-fifty, I make myself go downstairs.
They're all in the living room. Ragon by the window, watching the street. Drake on the couch, leg bouncing. Eli standing near the bookshelf, hands in his pockets. Marie perched on the arm of the couch, fingers twisted together.
Everyone looks up when I enter.
"There she is," Drake says, too bright. "You look nice."
"Thanks."
I don't sit. I stand near the doorway, close enough to be present, far enough to run if I need to.
At four-fifty-eight, a car pulls into the driveway.
Ragon's scent sharpens. Drake straightens. Eli's gaze flicks to me, checking.
The doorbell doesn't ring. Instead, there's a firm knock. Three times. Deliberate.
Ragon opens the door.
And the fourth alpha walks into our house.
He's tall—not as tall as Ragon, but close. Broad-shouldered, tan-skinned, with close-cropped black hair and eyes that seem to catalog everything in a single sweep. He's wearing dark jeans and a grey Henley, simple and deliberate.
His scent hits me like a wall—leather and cedar and something sharp underneath, like steel or stone.
Alpha. Undeniably, unmistakably alpha.
But it doesn't pull at me the way the others' scents do. It doesn't singmineorhomeorsafe. It's just... there. Powerful but neutral.
"Jasper," Ragon says, offering his hand. "Welcome."
They shake. It's brief. Assessing.
"Ragon." Jasper's voice is exactly what I heard on the phone earlier this week when Ragon called him—a door closing quietly and firmly. "Appreciate the invitation."
"You remember Drake." Ragon gestures. "And Eli."
