I cut that thought off before it can go any further. If I think about it for another second, I’ll be too indecent for the cameras.
Silas slows the car as we approach the curb, the low hum of voices outside growing louder, sharper. Flashes of light bleed through the tinted windows.
“Ready?” Silas asks.
I nod.
The car stops. The door opens, and the sound hits all at once.
“Dr. Wiley!”
“Dr. Wiley,over here!”
“Can we get a statement?”
I step out, straightening automatically. I lift my hand to the waiting press, then turn and open the back door. Lark places her hand in mine, then steps one long leg out, giving the cameras a perfect view of her calves before I help her from the car. She slides her hand up my arm, her fingers curling around my bicep. I tuck it close to my side.
Mine.
“Ready?” I murmur.
“Always,” she says.
We move forward together.
A cluster of student journalists near the front catches my attention. I angle us toward them first. Students always get priority.
“Dr. Wiley,” one of them says, her voice just a little shaky. “Can you tell us more about your scent-matching research?”
“We’re still in the early stages,” I say. “There’s a lot we don’t know yet. But what we’re seeing is promising. If we’re right, this could fundamentally change how alphas and omegas find compatible partners.”
Another student leans in. “You’re one of the featured guests tonight. What does that mean for your work?”
“It means visibility,” I say. “And hopefully support. The more data we have, the more accurate our models become. Right now, we’re looking for scent-matched couples, and packs, who are willing to participate in further study.”
“Will your own pack be part of that research?”
Lark shift slightly against me. I glance down. She’s already looking up at me, completely steady.
“I hope so,” I say.
She doesn't hesitate. “Of course,” she says, clear and certain. “I want everyone to experience what we have.”
Something tightens in my chest. She just, in front of everyone, claimed us.
Claimedme.
It’s not a surprise. In a few hours, she’ll claim me officially. It’s just… special. That she said it out loud. To the press.
I look down at her, not even trying to hide my pleasure. “Me, too,” I murmur.
I glance past the edge of the crowd. Silas and Saint stand just out of frame. Watching. Silas’ posture is relaxed, but his chest is lifted slightly, his expression openly pleased. Saint looks like he’s trying not to grin. He’s failing.
They’re proud. Both of them. Like they want to step forward and make it very clear exactly who she belongs to.
I turn back to the cameras, guiding Lark just a fraction closer to my side. “Let’s go greet the rest of the press.”
We move forward together, answering a few more questions, some thoughtful, most repetitive. Lark stands by my side, smiling and answering appropriately when something is directed at her. She’s a pro. Calm. Sharp. Just the right amount of warmth.
