Arden nods like this confirms something.
Rhys doesn't talk like most people talk. He considers before he speaks. When he does speak the words are chosen carefully and there aren't many of them but they go exactly where they're supposed to. “Hi Vee.”
I like it.
"Are you in Arden's pack?" I ask him.
He shakes his head.
I frown. Think about it. Turn it over.
And then a memory surfaces. One of those things that sat slightly wrong when it happened and got filed away underthings to think about later.
Finn's voice. Casual, but with an edge underneath it like he knew he'd misspoken the second the words were out.
This isn't normal. You're not supposed to be able to sit between three alphas and a beta and not smell like anything.
Three alphas and a beta.
There were only two alphas in that room.
I'd noticed. Of course I'd noticed. But I pushed it away, too numb to really wonder about it.
"Finn," I say.
Rhys's expression shifts. The look of a man who loves someone and has been the reason for their panic more than once.
"He called me that night," Rhys says, low and a little rough. Like speaking isn’t something he does often. "Panicking. Said you'd gone quiet in a way that meant you were thinking. That he'd felt you notice what he said the second it came out." He pauses. "He was convinced you were going to pull on that thread until the whole thing unraveled and Ragon would find out and then everything would fall apart."
"He was that worried? Because he miscounted?"
"He called me four times in one hour." His eyes crinkle at the corners. "The third call I didn't pick up. He called back immediately."
I laugh.
It surprises me. It surprises Rhys too, I think. His expression opens up in a way that makes him look younger.
"Alex is your pack lead," I say.
"Yes."
"And you've been here because Arden is helping you and you couldn't be next door." Arden's words in the car come back to me. About Rhys and unfamiliar alphas. About the years of work. "If you'd been next door—"
Rhys's expression darkens. A low sound in his chest that isn't quite a growl but isn't quite not one either.
"The alphas that were hurting you… there would have been no more alphas to speak of," he says flatly.
I take that in. The matter-of-fact quality of it. He's not posturing. He's just stating what would have happened.
"But I don't recognize your scent," I say. "Not how I do Alex's. Or Malcolm's."
"No," Arden says from the couch. "You wouldn't. His scent changed significantly after what happened to him. Your omega recognizes the original scent profile, the one encoded in the match. Not this version."
"But you recognize mine," I say to Rhys.
That almost-smile again. Slow. "Vanilla and wildflowers after rain." His voice drops slightly. "With cinnamon underneath."
Warmth rolls through me at that.
