His brows arch. “She picked up for you?” Interesting. The way he says that makes it sound like he’s called her too and has gotten no response.
Our beta shakes his head. “No. But Haven did.” My scalp prickles. Just why is someone else picking up my omega’s phone? “She didn’t want to talk to me.” His mouth quirks into a half smile. “Well, she wanted to yell at me and made some very colorful threats. But then her alpha came on-”
“Ren’s?” Thayer asks, sounding on the verge of feral from just the suggestion. I can’t blame him. I have the sudden urge to slip back in the ring and beat the shit out of someone.
Our beta shakes his head. “No, Haven’s. He let it slip that she’s dealing with theconsequences of our rejection.”
Fuck. The others might not understand the significance of what he’s saying, but I do.
I do.Unlike everyone else, I’ve scented her. I know in my bones that she’s ours. I’d just hoped like hell she didn’t realize it too.
I sway, catch myself on the wall with a palm. My head dips down, shoulders bending under the weight of what those consequences Piers mentioned must be. No wonder she stopped working at the bank. Half of the customers are likely alphas and she would get sick from just being in their vicinity.
“She’s our mate,” I grit out, not lifting my head to watch as they receive this news. “Our scent matched fated mate.”
“How do you know that?” Forsythe asks. When I meet his gaze, he flinches at the look on my face.
“You might have been okay leaving things the way they were,” I growl. “But I sure as fuck wasn’t. As soon as they released us from filming after the finale, I went to see her.”
“That’s where you disappeared to?” Court asks, still picking at that patch of paint on the back of his hand. “I thought you went to beat the shit out of something. You saw her?”
I shake my head. “No. She’d already left, but she didn’t check out of her room. Her scent was…” I have to take a deep breath to keep my throat from closing up entirely. “Her scent was everywhere and it was… perfect. Hibiscus and citrus. And as soon as I stepped into the room I knew.”
Thayer’s hands flex at his sides. “And you didn’t think to tell us?”
The look I give him is cool. The one I use on an opponent before a bout. “Why would I? We’d already rejected her. None of you had smelled her. We had adutyto pick Isadora. We sent her home before the scenting ceremony so that this wouldn’t happen. Telling you wouldn’t have changed anything.” I take a deep breath. “I hoped she would never realize who we were to each other, hoped she’d be able to move on. Be happy with a different pack. She never scented us, but apparently, her omega recognized us anyway.”
I motion at Piers and he nods his agreement before he says, “That must be what he meant. A fated mate rejection. She’s… She’ll be in pain for the rest of her life without us… without you.”
The room is silent for far too long, as the rest of my pack mates mull over what Piers and I have told them.
Piers licks his lips. “She was admitted to the hospital within hours of her plane landing in Granton. They kept her for two days and then sent her home. I couldn’t get them to tell memore than that, but she’s had a few follow up appointments with doctors that specialize in omega physiology.”
Goddammit, I knew that too. But Haven, her very pregnant best friend, always goes with her, so I assumed it was for her, for the baby. I never imagined it would be for Florence.
Once again silence stretches to fill the room.
Finally Forsythe’s hoarse voice asks, “You’re sure? You’re sure she’s ours?”
Gritting my teeth, I retreat to my room, fish out the airtight plastic bag tucked into the back of my closet and return to our sitting room, tossing it to our prime. He stares down at the contents. The cream-colored sweatshirt, the Ashbourne tartan shorts and tiny bralette. “She left those at the hotel,” I say.
He doesn’t move for the longest time, doesn’t open the bag. His throat bobs and I think he might be terrified. I can’t say I blame him. One whiff of Florence and my entire world shifted. My focus, my purpose, became her. Her happiness, her safety.
His jaw ticks as we all stare at him, waiting for him to get the bollocks to confirm what we all already know. What we knew instinctively from the very beginning, even if we didn’t acknowledge it.
Florence Karlin is ours. Our mate. Fated for us.
His hand shakes when he reaches for the clasp, and he curls his fingers, like he’s willing them steady, before he quickly opens the bag. The scent of lemon and hibiscus wafts out of the bag, hits the air and my alpha takes notice, faint as it is.
“Fuck,” Court groans, moving to Sythe and practically shoving his face into the plastic to breathe it in deeper. “Mate.”
For his part Forsythe is staring at the contents with a kind of resignation. His nostrils flare but he doesn’t do more than that. Thayer pushes Court away with a growl and snags the bag, holding the open end to his nose and inhaling. His blue eyes drift close as he holds her scent in his lungs.
And when they open again he glares right at me.
“You knew? It’s been a month since we let her go and this whole fucking time you’ve known?”
I shrug, folding my arms over my chest. “Yeah. I’ve known.”
