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“Amethyst?” I asked, keeping my voice calm and low.

Her gaze whipped to me as she gasped a second time, this time with the smallest bit of noise. The sound ripped right through me.

“Brendon,” she whispered. Her voice shook with terror. Her nostrils flared, and her knuckles whitened. “Please not Brendon.”

Confusion wove through my ribs.

“Who’s Brendon?” I asked. And then, because I couldn’t help but worry, “Are you all right? Is your head bothering you?”

The breeze stirred my hair now, too. The fire grew bright in the jar, casting longer shadows on the walls of the tent.

“Not Brendon.” Her voice cracked over the name. “N-not Brendon.”

She clutched the blanket tighter as her scent grew stale with her fear. Unable to stand being useless, I carefully closed the few feet of space between us. Her heartbeat fluttered in her throat, much faster than when she’d been sleeping.

“Amethyst, what’s wrong?” I asked. “Why are you panicked?”

Not just panicked. She was utterly terrified. What had she dreamed that left her in this state?

She sucked in a breath through her nose, and her scent intensified.

“C-Callum.”

My name was a hoarse whisper and yet it pulled a growl from the depths of me that I struggled to keep locked behind my lips. Instead, I circled her wrist and slowly traced shapes along her skin with my thumb. Her gaze dropped to the touch. Despite her face paling, her scent dissipated almost at once, taking with it that edge of fear.

Her throat moved as she swallowed. Silence stretched between us, a nearly palpable entity consuming the space separating our bodies. Just like that second lunch, I was ready to give her distance, for her to tell me she only wanted to interact with Shelby and Amaria. Especially now that she knew she was to return home and that we were not to wed after all. She said nothing, though. She focused on me again, her gray eyes shining in the bright light of the fire, and didn’t move her hand at all. Her breathing steadied, that terrified look fading over several long moments.

“Are you all right?” I asked again.

The nod was nearly nonexistent, but it was there. The concern clamping around my chest relaxed.

“I’m okay,” she whispered.

Then, all at once, her scent surrounded us, the orange so powerful it overrode all memory of the smells of the forest and snow just outside the tent and the chatter of the others preparing to leave. I held back a groan by the skin of my teeth. My focus narrowed to the soft curve of her lips as they parted with her small inhale. The vanilla of her scent grew stronger, wrapping around me like an embrace. My gaze tracked lower, to her fluttering pulse just below her translation tattoo and then the long line of her throat. The sweater she’d slept in had fallen off one shoulder, revealing more of her alabaster skin, as flawless as porcelain.

Her scent twisted around me again, and my own rose in answer, blending with hers in a way that would be addicting if allowed to continue. It took every ounce of self-control to pull my hand away from her wrist and take a half-step back.

My voice was as hoarse as hers.

“I’ll… I’ll get Amaria and Reuben.”

I ducked into the cold morning before I could see how she reacted. The cold stole my breath and brought clarity to my mind in the same instant. Holy Medea, I was going to lose my mind. It was Reuben who saw me first, though Shelby followed close behind. Reuben extricated himself from the conversation involving Joseph and Hugh. He gestured to Shelby, letting her go in front of him. Both of them were already dressed for travel, and Reuben had his bag slung across his chest.

Shelby ducked into the tent without a word. Reuben, though, paused a few steps away. He raised an eyebrow, reading me better than most who weren’t alphas themselves.

“She’s settling in well, then?” he asked with a small smile.

A lump crowded my throat, making it impossible to say anything at all. This time, Reuben misread me, taking my silence as embarrassment rather than the roiling mix of fear and resentment. He circled my wrist in a light touch.

“Fret not,” he said with a bit of humor. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed over. I’ll not mention it again.”

“Reuben, we’re ready,” Shelby said.

Reuben entered my tent. I tilted my head, letting the small snowflakes melt on my face as I closed my eyes. Now, I allowed the thoughts to swirl. Anything to keep from remembering the silkiness of her skin under my fingers and the way her scent wove around me like it was a spell of its own.

She’s leaving, I told myself, told my body. She’s not yours. She returns to Freia when we reach Starguard.

Slowly, the heat faded from my body. My own wisteria scent faded, the pine growing subtle enough to blend with the forest surrounding the makeshift camp. Only then did I risk stepping back into the tent to retrieve our items and sheath my sword down my back. Amethyst stood beside the cot dressed in another of the thick pairs of riding pants set aside for her. Instead of the smaller sweaters, though, she drowned under the fabric of the one I’d worn overnight. My stomach pitched under an emotion I refused to examine, let alone name.