Page 120 of Pack Baby for the Silver Foxes

“Beautiful,” Hudson said.

“Vibrant,” I added.

“Terrifyingly alive.”

“And you’ve got the world at your feet,” I said. “Why would you look at two men old enough to know better, tangled in a family mess with your ex, and decide we were worth the trouble?”

Mary stared at us. The tears spilled then, quick and silent.

“Oh, love,” I murmured.

She shook her head as if the endearment hurt. “I want you both,” she said.

Hudson’s eyes changed.

I stopped breathing.

Mary’s fingers tightened around my hand. “I want you both, and I just never thought I’d ever have this.”

Hudson brushed a tear from her cheek. “Have what?”

“Alphas.” The word was barely a whisper. Mary swallowed, and her cheeks went pink with terror. “I never thought I’d smell alphas as mine.”

Hudson looked at me over her head. His face had gone very still. “Mary,” he said, “what do you smell when you’re with us?”

She frowned, wiping at her cheek with the back of her hand. “What?”

“Our scents,” Hudson said. “Tell us.”

“Hudson,” she whispered. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” His voice went rough. “Nothing’s wrong. Tell us.”

She glanced back at me.

I slid my hand from hers. “Please, tell us. We want you more than anything. We choose you, Mary, but we also think this is bigger than choosing.”

Mary looked between us, confused and exposed. “Whiskey, blackberries in the rain and a hint of violet that only appeared when I was in my heat.”

My chest locked.

Hudson’s eyes widened a fraction.

The hidden, fated note Hudson and I had smelled in Boston and argued over in our office.

“Wild violet,” Hudson said.

Mary nodded. “Is there any other kind? I don’t know. Like something growing where it shouldn’t.”

I laughed once, breathless. “That’s us, then.”

Her brows pulled together. “What do you mean?”

Hudson pressed his forehead to hers for one second. “We smell the same on you.”

Mary’s heartbeat quickened beneath my hand. “No.”

“Yes,” I said.