Her thumbs stilled on the mug. “Yeah. Lucian kept telling me too.” A pause. “We even had a fight about it.”
The memory surfaced. The office door opening. Mira’s legs around Lucian’s waist. Books on the floor, his shirt destroyed. I’d filed it as irrelevant at the time because Percy’s wound had taken over my memories. But now, sitting beside her in the cold, the image returned with clarity.
“Didn’t look much of a fight to me,” I said.
“Hey.” She glared, but there was no heat behind it. Just embarrassment, mostly. “Come on, don’t remind me. I’m already drowning in guilt. I can’t believe we were making out in the other room and didn’t know his state.” She pressed her forehead against the mug. “I owe him so many apologies.”
“He won’t mind. It’s Percival. He’s the last one who will ever mind. And that’s one of your mate. It’s natural for us.” I let a beatpass. “It’s actually good you made progress with Lucian. About time.”
She lifted her head to stare at me.
“You two were the closest before you forgot us,” I said. “That’s why he was the most affected.”
The silence that followed was different. She hadn’t considered this. I could see the realization rearrange something behind her eyes, pieces clicking into a picture she hadn’t known was incomplete.
“The bond you say...” She sighed, staring into the mug. “Still struggling to get used to it.”
I reached over and took her hand. Squeezed once. “That’s understandable.”
Mira didn’t pull away. Her fingers curled around mine and stayed.
We sat. The quiet returned, familiar and uncomplicated, and I let it settle over both of us.
Her presence eased the weight in my chest in a way I hadn’t expected. The guilt was still there, rooted deep, but it had loosened. As if her proximity had reminded my body that not everything I was supposed to protect had been broken.
My wolf stirred. A low, instinctive pull that pushed my scent outward, warmly wrapping around her.
I didn’t choose it. Scenting was a response as natural as breathing, and fighting it would have been pointless. My bodyrecognized hers, and wanted to soothe it. Wanted to claim the space around her as safe.
Mira shifted beside me. She exhaled, long and trembling, and her body softened against my side in a way that made my pulse thicken.
“What is that?” she murmured. “That feeling. The warm... settling thing.”
“Scenting,” I said. “Lycans release it instinctively around their mates. It calms the nervous system. Yours and mine.”
“So you’re basically drugging me with good vibes?”
“Essentially. If you want to put it that way.”
“Rude.” She leaned her head against my shoulder. “Don’t stop though.”
I didn’t.
The scent deepened. I couldn’t control the intensity any more than I could control my own heartbeat, and with her head on my shoulder, her hair brushing my jaw, the feedback loop between us tightened.
My scent calmed her, her calm fed back into me, and the cycle built on itself until every point of contact between us felt amplified.
Mira’s thumb had started tracing circles against my knuckle. Small, absent movements that I don’t think she was aware of, but I felt each one travel up my arm and settle in my chest. My breathing deepened to match hers.
Minutes passed and the sky dimmed. The mug’s steam faded as the chocolate cooled. She drank the last of it in a long pull, set the empty mug on the step, and stood. The absence of her warmth against my side registered as a physical loss.
My wolf protested. I told it to be quiet.
“I’ll check Percy again and finally take that shower.” She stretched her arms overhead, the dress I bought her riding up to expose a strip of skin. I looked away but looked back. “I think you’re too polite about my smell, big guy.”
“You can never smell bad for me.” I told her genuinely.
She smiled. “Good to know.”
