“Watch her,” I murmur to Silas. “She’s not feeling well.”
“I’m fine,” Lark insists again, but I don’t miss the way she leans slightly into Saint as I stand.
I look at Silas. He nods once.
I straighten, adjust my jacket, and head for the stage.
Time to perform.
I take my place at the podium, smoothing my hand over the front of my jacket more out of habit than necessity. Finn stands beside me, composed on the surface, but I catch the look in his eyes. There is no way he’s saying a word to this crowd.
I glance out at the audience, letting the room settle. “Good evening,” I say. “Thank you all for being here.”
After that, it’s easy. I've given versions of this talk a hundred times. The words come without effort. I talk about the research. About the theory. What we’re seeing in the data.
“If we can prove what we’re seeing,” I continue, “we completely change how alphas and omegas find each other.”
I gesture lightly toward the room. “We can connect people across distance, across nations. We can help build stronger packs. More stable ones.”
Near the edge of the room, a group leans in. Three alphas, all watching me with a focused intensity that’s hard to miss. Oh, yeah. They’ll give money.
“And to do that,” I add, shifting gears, “we need data. We need participation from scent-matched packs. And quite frankly, we need funding.”
A few nod. Soft applause from a table in the back.
“Grants are essential,” I say. “But they don’t cover everything. Not for research at this scale. If we want real answers, this is the kind of work that needs to be supported.”
I settle into it. Unlike Finn, I’ve never minded this part.
“This is research that has the potential to impact millions of people. And with the right support—”
A sound cuts through the room. It’s soft and low. And wrong. My words stop. I hear it again. A groan.
Feminine.
My head turns. Saint and Silas are already on their feet, chairs pushed back, both of them moving at the same time, hands under Lark’s arms, helping her stand.
And then I smell it. Rich, sweet, salted caramel. Thick with need.
Lark's heat.
Tonight.
Mine.
The room shifts. Every alpha goes still. They’re too aware. Too interested. Instincts snapping tight and attention sharpening in a way that has nothing to do with my speech anymore. My vision goes red at the edges.
Oh, hell no.
I turn, shoving the microphone into Finn’s hand. “Take it,” I say, already moving.
I don’t wait. I’m off the stage before any other alpha in the room can catch up. By the time I reach them, Saint and Silas already have her between them, her weight sagging as they guide her toward the exit.
Her face is pale and tight with pain. “Graham—” she breathes.
“I’ve got you,” I say.
We push through the ballroom doors. A few people still linger outside.
