Pasquale growled, red-hot anger filling his veins. Giuliana stood off to the side, leaning against a tree with her arms folded across her chest. It was a comforting stance, but one he could tell she needed. Her scent was alive with fatigue, her mouth pinched and her nostrils flaring.
Darkness surrounded them, wrapping them in the eerie silence only the night brought. It was … new, having someone with him while he worked. He wasn’t used to explaining things, and even more so uncomfortable because he’d have to tell her he couldn’t track him.
He threw back his head and gave in to his nose. The world opened up, brilliant marks of colors and whirls of scent. A normal wolf couldn’t do this, see an environment like paint on canvas. The trail of a bunny’s flight wound through the trees in a faint blue. A deer’s race away from the predators he and Giuliana represented dashed out in frantic purple. The night was vibrant and bright with colors, interlocking stories of their lives, imprints of their existence on earth.
This was what it meant to be a scenter, to see what others could not, to know the world in ways others could never understand. Heath’s tracer was a swathe of dark black glittering in the moonlight with threaded silver. It was corded, wrapped, and bundled with spiking green. Pasquale had never seen a scent like that. He reached out and gripped the strands between his fingers.
This was something for him, a gift of his Alpha lineage mixing with his innate scenter calling. His Alpha gift, always hidden, didn’t have to be masked with Giuliana. It was freeing, being able to use what was his in the presence of another wolf other than his pack. He’d suppressing it for so long, never giving it a chance to break through the chains he wrapped around it. Now, he let it loose, riding along the trail while he stood still.
His eyes burned, and he knew they glowed with his power. Giuliana sucked in a breath, and he smiled. This is me, mate. This is who I really am.
“I need your nose,” he called to her.
She stepped forward gingerly. “How can I help?”
“I’m bombarded. Heath’s signature is all around me. I need a non-scenter’s other senses to help balance it.”
“What do I do?”
“Just come here.”
When she was within reach, Pasquale used his free hand to pull her in front of him, her back to his front, and wrapped his arms around her, caging her close. He then gripped Heath’s tracer in both hands and rested his chin on Giuliana’s shoulder.
“Let your wolf reach for mine.”
He’d never done this with another wolf besides Fabiana, but he was sure his mate would fit in just well enough.
Wolf, help her bridge.
His wolf snorted. Feel. She doesn’t need help.
“Oh my gods!”
Is this what you see?
Giuliana’s wolf had a smoky, erotic voice that made his wolf shudder inside him. The connection between their human counterparts only made it so the wolves were closer. Pasquale laughed, joy spreading through him. He could see them! Both wolves, his own larger white wolf hovering protectively over Giuliana’s reddish-black wolf. They played in the scents, sending sparks up like fireflies in the night, illuminating the darkness with information.
Snake.
Deer.
Mages came this way, but they’re gone.
The wolves shot back and forth what they sensed, and Pasquale pulled Giuliana closer, using her gifts to heighten his. She was strong, so strong, of Alpha lineage as well. He didn’t know how he hadn’t made that connection before.
She was the niece of Arturo Moretti, from a sister long gone—one many didn’t speak of—but the same blood ran in her veins. What she didn’t have in gifts like him, she had her own. Her wolf lifted its head, searching, reaching.
Giuliana did the same, and it was the most beautiful moment he’d ever experienced in the middle of the forest.
“Blood.”
Someone is hurt.
The statements came from her and her wolf at the same time. He remembered Giuliana’s gift was for healing. She reached for his hands, the warmth coming from her filled with her power.
“Along this line is blood,” she whispered.
“You can see the scent?”
