Finn is already moving toward me. He pulls me into a quick hug, his arms squeezing once, firm and warm. Before he lets go he dips his head toward my ear.
"Try not to be intimidated," he murmurs. "He's quiet. He'll probably just look at you for a while. Let him."
I pull back to look at him. "That's not helpful."
He grins, unrepentant.
I follow Arden out the door.
His car is clean and smells like him. Warm amber underneath leather seats.
We've been driving for maybe ten minutes before I ask.
"He's been wanting to meet me?"
Arden glances over. "Yes."
"How does he even know about me?"
Arden is quiet, choosing how to start.
His fingers tap lightly on the steering wheel. "When Jasper first came to your house, he took a piece from your nest without you knowing. A small blanket, heavy with your scent. He preserved it carefully and slipped it to me the day I introduced myself to you. I brought it to him."
"This was all planned out ahead of time?" I ask, watching his profile.
"We've been creating pathways for you," he says, eyes on the road. "Different doors you could walk through when you were ready… if you wanted to."
The careful shape of what he's saying drops slowly.
Another piece moved around me without my knowledge. Another decision made about my life by someone who thought they knew what was best.
I feel the familiar flicker of irritation. The thing that rises up every time I find another layer of the operation that was running under my feet without my knowledge.
But I'm also tired of being angry about it. There's only so many times you can have the same feeling before it starts to lose its edges.
"So he's known about me," I say. "For months."
"He's had your scent for months," Arden says. "Which for him is significant. He doesn't usually... try."
"Why?"
Arden considers. "Most people don't respond well tohisscent," he says. "Omegas especially. It unsettles them. Sometimes frightens them. It's not what it used to be."
"What did it used to be?"
"Something easier. He used to smell like an ocean breeze, apparently. Before." He pauses. "He went through things that changed him. Deeply. His scent changed with him. Warped and twisted into something unrecognizable. Most people read it as a warning without knowing why. Omegas are especially terrified of him which is extremely hard on an alpha."
I look out the window at the trees passing.
"But I don't read it as a warning," I say.
"No you don't." Arden's voice shifts, thoughtful. "I have a theory about that. About why his scent does what it does for you specifically."
"Tell me."
"You share a similar emotional architecture," he says. "Both of you have experienced profound loss of safety. Of control. Of being seen as a person rather than a function." He glances at mebriefly. "Trauma changes scent in ways that are subtle but real. I think some part of you recognizes what his scent is actually saying. That it’s not a warning. It's a wound that's still healing."
The words hit true.
