Page 28 of Altius (The Scent of Victory #2)

“Okay, thanks,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder again and heading for the doorway. I knocked, not waiting for Anya to respond before walking in. “You wanted to see me?”

She sat perched on the edge of the desk, wearing a cobalt blue power suit, the diamonds stacked on her left ring finger sparkling as she scrolled through her phone.

Would Morgan want a mating ring? She’d never wear it regularly, but it might be nice to break it out for special occasions.

I wanted one.

Mating bites were too easy to hide, and I was eager to rub my happiness in everyone’s face. My girl was the best. And they couldn’t have her—insert caveat about Pack Redmond, if she wanted them too.

“I wanted to schedule a meeting with you about Morgan’s progress on her fellowship project, but your calendar is…rather full.” She turned the phone to face me, showing my out-of-office status for the next week. “Did your rut cycle change?”

My first inclination was to walk out. Anya had no right to pry into my personal life. But I didn’t want her to extend our problems to Morgan’s fellowship.

I shut the door like a good nominal son and offered her a congenial smile. “It’s just a ski trip.”

Alas, Anya didn’t feel like playing house. “You’re taking off the same days as Mor—”

“Do not finish that sentence. Reproductive leaves are protected—something I shouldn’t have to remind you about—as a doctor or a mother.”

The almond note in my scent intensified. Left unchecked, buoyed by my temper, it took on a life of its own, as bitter and unrepentant as a cloud of cyanide.

Anya blanched, staggering to the side and falling heavily onto an armchair.

I hadn’t even taken one step inside the room.

“Why the sudden interest in a ski holiday?” Leaning against the wall, I hooked my thumbs in my pockets. “Oh, that’s right. You’ve never liked any of my friends. Especially Owen. Have you?”

“That—that was Heather,” Anya ground out. “And she’s apologized.”

“The same way she apologized to Morgan after her stunt at the ballet?” I spat out a laugh. “Or how you apologized after your half-baked bullshit about fan photos? Two seconds. That’s all it would take to see the internet is littered with photos of Morgan—good, bad, and tragic.”

“Are you dating her?” Anya asked, wound tight and twitchy.

My alpha flared. Voice deepening, dominance unfurling, like a wave cresting, promising destruction. “What did you promise me?”

Anya swallowed hard. “That I wouldn’t get in your way at work, and I… That I’d never use our connection to my advantage.”

“No,” I scoffed. “You promised to act like we aren’t related—because according to your precious daughter, we aren’t. And I must admit, you’ve done a pretty good job adhering to our agreement… Until now.”

She hit the arm of the chair. “You’re going to get caught!”

“So what?” I said, pushing off the wall with a shrug. Leaning forward, sending more of my irate pheromones in her direction, I spelled it out for her.

“I’m not Morgan’s actual boss. But I am a department director—and the university’s lifeline to Redwing.

They won’t cut me loose.” I adjusted my glasses with a coarse laugh.

“I could set Morgan up in her own clinic with a snap of my fingers. But that’s not her style.

Because she needs the grind, to put in the effort, to do her best. Every day.

That’s why you like her, despite whatever unfortunate motherly concern she seems to have inspired.

And that’s precisely why you’re going to continue treating her like a regular medical fellow. ”

Her dark eyes quivered with some unidentifiable emotion. The same way she looked at me after Mom died. It wasn’t love. Maybe not even concern. It was sincere, whatever it was—and several decades too late.

“But—”

“I outrank you, Anya. You have no power over me.” Another wave of dominance overwhelmed her, making her tremble. Sweat dotted her upper lip. “I’ve only tolerated Heather because I’m a good brother. And I don’t have to be.”

My phone vibrated. The message was from Morgan.

Last appointment finished on time. Can you believe it? See you soon.

Suppressing the urge to smile, I stared down at my pack mother.

No, that was too generous a term. She’d never been more than a distantly disapproving stepmother.

“It’d be much easier to protect Spencer and the rest of your grandchildren if I didn’t have to keep playing these games.” Pausing, I decided to make myself clear. Might as well confirm her suspicions while identifying my bottom line. “Stay out of our business. Understood?”

Anya forced out a nod, then turned away, looking oddly stooped. Defeated. The fading sun showed the lines of her age.

She’d played her hand well. Won most of her bets, too, and won them in a big way. I’d give her that.

But I’d cashed out of the Carling game long ago. Now, I was all in on being happy with Morgan and my best friends.

Checking the time, I turned to leave.

“If you’ll excuse me, our flight for Vermont leaves at six.”

***

Morgan climbed into my passenger seat at ten after five, the pointed tip of her nose a comely shade of pink as she lowered her hood, brushing away a bit of lingering snow as she leaned over—and pulled on my cheek.

“Just checking,” Morgan teased. “Never know when it might be Joaquin in disguise.”

“He’s never touching my truck again,” I said, claiming a quick kiss once the cab light went off. “Seat still doesn’t feel right.”

Pulling away from the curb, I reached over to rub the back of her cold neck, earning a shiver of delight for my efforts.

“Any last-minute requests?”

“Prescriptions?”

“Just picked them up.” Opening the console, I revealed a small foam medication transport container. “Still want to get induced at six?”

“Yes. The sooner we start, the sooner I can return to normal.” Morgan pulled off the lid, eyes narrowing at the contents: five vials ensconced in an ice pack. “Why are there so many?”

“Two are inducers. The other three are optional, in case you don’t pick up enough of our pheromones.”

“Is the only difference their dosage?” she asked, picking up one of the aphrodisiacs to read the label.

“Pretty much. Baby Bear is if you need a little nudge, while Papa Bear…”

“Is nice to have, but I doubt we’ll need him.” Morgan covered the vials and returned them to the console. She leaned over, wrapping herself around my arm. “Because this is going to work.”

“Yes, it will,” I agreed, kissing her plum-red hair.

I’d make sure of it.