I reach toward her without overthinking it, placing my hand on hers where they’re still twisted together anxiously in her lap. Her skin is hot from the sauna, slightly damp with perspiration. She trembles at the contact, her whole body going tense for a second before relaxing slightly.
That scent increases again, more noticeable now. Definitely responding to my touch.
She shifts on the bench, like she’s trying to get comfortable but can’t quite manage it, and a small noise catches in her throat. Almost a whimper. Almost needy.
My cock twitches in response.
“I do understand,” I admit quietly, deciding she deserves this piece of my past. This vulnerability. “When I was in my early twenties, just out of college, I met an Omega I swore was my everything. My entire world. We weren’t scent mates, but we might as well have been fated mates because the connection felt that strong. That inevitable.”
I pause, old memories surfacing that I usually keep buried deep. They still hurt after all these years.
“But evidently only I felt that way. She walked out on me one day without any warning and never came back. Didn’t leave a note or say goodbye or give any explanation. Just disappeared like I’d meant nothing to her.” My hand tightens slightly over Anita’s. “I fell apart after that. Spent two years barely functioning.”
I force myself to meet her eyes. “Since then, since her, I haven’t found anyone I took an interest in. That is, until I found you. It’s as if I’m finally waking up after years of sleepwalking through life, and you’re actually my scent match this time. The real thing. Fuck, Anita. You know how terrified I am that I’ll lose you? That history will repeat itself?”
She glances up at me, and her eyes are bright with unshed tears that she’s clearly trying to hold back. Then she leans in closer, and I can smell her even more intensely now. The scent is intoxicating.
“Me too,” she whispers. “And then I fucked everything up so spectacularly, and I was absolutely certain you were all going to kick me aside like I didn’t matter and I was disposable. I haven’t cried so much in such a long time. Not since my pack rejected me.” She drops her gaze to where our hands are joined. “I must sound so pathetically weak right now.”
“Never weak, Anita.” I move my other hand to tilt her chin up gently but firmly, forcing her to meet my eyes. “You’re strong because you realized what was truly important to you and you’re willing to fight for it instead of just giving up. The question is, what are you actually going to do about it? What are you willing to sacrifice?”
“Absolutely anything to hold on to it,” she says immediately, and the raw sincerity in her voice touches something deep in my chest. No hesitation. No games. Just honest truth.
Her eyes glisten, the genuine pain and regret written across her face. This is not manipulation, not her trying to play on my emotions to get what she wants.
This is real hurt. Real regret. Real determination to make things right.
I can absolutely work with that.
“If we’re going to get to know each other better,” I say carefully, choosing every word with deliberate precision, “learn to actually trust each other again, rebuild what was broken, and help you take down that fucking asshole Reed, then you need to move in with us.”
“Wait, what? Why? Did Jasper tell you that Reed offered Ash a marketing job?”
I hold her gaze and nod once. “He did.” There’s no point in softening it. “If you want to infiltrate Reed’s organization properly,” I continue, “get close enough to expose him for the fraud he is, then it has to be done right. Not halfway. Not alone. With us behind you and watching your back. He has a major live event coming up in over a week. That’s where he’s vulnerable and where he’ll be careless. That’s where we end him.”
She listens, absorbing every word, her expression shifting from shock to focus.
“That makes sense strategically,” she says slowly, her mind already working through it.
Of course it does. She’s smart. That’s one of the reasons she got past my defenses in the first place.
“But the main reason for you moving in with us,” I add, lowering my voice slightly, letting the truth sit heavier between us, “is trust.”
She goes still.
“With you living across town, showing up occasionally, leaving whenever things get difficult, that’s distance. Distance makes it easy to hide. Easy to doubt. Easy to walk away.”
I hold her eyes so that she understands exactly what I’m saying.
“We need proximity, daily interaction, real life. Not curated moments. If this pack is going to unite with you, it happens under the same roof. Not across town.”
Her lips part slightly at that, emotion flickering across her face.
“They want you there,” I finish quietly. “So do I.”
She drags her tongue slowly across her lower lip, the movement captivating. Her skin is flushed from the heat, a faint sheen of perspiration catching the light along her throat, her collarbone.
“God,” she murmurs, lifting her hand to wipe her forehead, her voice unsteady, “it’s so unbearably hot in here.”
