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Kinky,Archer shot back. Even down here, Luca’s scent lingered—fainter but still maddening.

By seven a.m., they were exhausted but nowhere near calm. Sweat-soaked and breathing hard, they sprawled on the training mats, their wolves temporarily sated by physical exertion.

We can’t go back up there,Ryker said what they were all thinking.Not with his scent like that.

Cowards,Archer muttered, but he made no move to leave either.

Zane reached for the training room’s intercom panel, pressing the button for the staff floor. “Harrison?”

“Yes, sir?” The butler’s voice came through.

“We need clothes brought down to the training facility. Casual is fine. And have breakfast sent to my executive office.”

There was a slight pause. “Of course, sir. I’ll bring down some casual wear immediately. And shall I have the kitchen prepare the usual blood-infused pastries with breakfast?”

“Yes. Thank you, Harrison.”

An hour later, freshly showered in the training facility’s locker room and dressed in the designer casual wear Harrison had delivered—dark jeans and Henley shirts—they sat in Zane’s executive office. The breakfast spread looked impressive—blood-infused coffee, rare steaks, pastries—but none of them had much appetite.

“So this is our life now?” Archer sprawled in one of the leather chairs, tugging at his black Henley. “Hiding in the office because we can’t handle our brother’s scent?” He laughed, but it held no humor. “Real alpha of us. Very impressive.”

“You have a better suggestion?” Ryker’s lightning still sparked occasionally, betraying his agitation. “Because I’m open to ideas that don’t end with us?—”

“Don’t.” Zane’s voice held a warning edge. “We need to figure this out. Something’s happening to him. Something beyond normal vampire maturation.”

“You think?” Archer’s sarcasm couldn’t quite hide his concern. “Because normal vampire princes don’t usually smell like… like…”

“Like everything we’ve ever wanted?” Ryker supplied grimly. “Like the world’s most potent aphrodisiac mixed with pure need?”

“Like ours,” Zane said quietly, and the truth of it hung heavy in the air between them.

The silence that followed was broken only by the sound of Harrison quietly directing the staff to leave more coffee. None ofthem touched the food, too preoccupied with the implications of what was happening upstairs.

“Great Uncle Johnathan,” Archer finally said. “He’ll know what’s happening. He has to.”

“He better,” Ryker muttered. “Because I don’t think any of us can take another night like that.”

Zane’s phone buzzed—a message from their great uncle confirming he’d meet them in an hour. They all pretended not to notice how their wolves perked up at the prospect of answers, of understanding why their adopted brother suddenly smelled like he belonged to them in ways that went far beyond family.

The hour crawled by, none of them touching the breakfast spread Harrison had arranged. When their great uncle finally arrived, his presence was announced by the subtle shift in the building’s ancient magic—the way the shadows deepened momentarily, how the air grew thick with power. Even on a quiet Sunday morning, with the executive floor empty of its usual bustle, Johnathan Whitlock’s presence commanded attention.

“Three of my favorite nephews,” he drawled, stepping into Zane’s office. “All looking like they’ve been dragged through hell. On a weekend, no less.” His knowing gaze swept over their disheveled appearances. “I assume this isn’t about quarterly reports?”

Archer shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “We were wondering about vampire maturation. Hypothetically speaking.”

“Hypothetically,” their great uncle echoed, raising an eyebrow as he settled into the offered seat. “And this couldn’t wait because…”

“What happens when a vampire’s scent changes?” Ryker asked, trying for casual and missing by miles. “Dramatically. Almost overnight.”

“Depends on the change.” Johnathan’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Are we talking about a specific vampire? Hypothetically, of course.”

Zane cleared his throat. “If a vampire suddenly smelled like…” He paused, searching for words that wouldn’t reveal too much. “Like something impossible. Something forbidden.”

“Forbidden how?” Their great uncle’s voice had taken on an edge of interest.

“Like moonlight and cherry blossoms,” Archer blurted out, earning glares from his brothers. “But also like… like…”

Movement through the floor-to-ceiling windows caught their attention—Benedict emerging from the elevator at a run, his usual graceful composure nowhere to be seen. He burst through the office door, face pale and hair disheveled.