Page 41 of Altius (The Scent of Victory #2)

Twenty-Five

Alijah

T he farther we drove from Northport, the sweatier my palms got. At least I wasn’t alone. Wyatt couldn’t stop fidgeting in the passenger seat, fussing with his seatbelt between texts with Morgan.

My mate entertained himself by testing the limits of my hand’s mobility, bending my fingers every which way and pinching the skin on the back of my knuckles.

Only Owen seemed unbothered—if you ignored how stiffly he was sitting, even for him, hands never deviating from their grip at ten and two—consulting the GPS every other minute.

We occasionally spotted Cal’s silver truck pulling off for coffee or gas. Given his status as official boyfriend, I wondered if the drive was more torturous for him, or if he was enjoying the prospect of using the four of us as a meat shield.

“Brace yourselves,” Wyatt said, reading a new text from Morgan. “It’s a full house. Audra and Ethan are both there, with their packmates and the kids. Even Jenna’s in town. Only Piper had to leave.”

Turning, he hit everyone with an earnest gaze. “Don’t poke or prod at Jenna. Morgan’s orders. Seems they’ve got issues they’re working through.”

“Is Ethan fair game?” Joaquin asked. “I want to see if he’s as annoying as you make him sound.”

Owen brought us to a smooth stop at a four-way intersection in the heart of a picturesque downtown. It looked like the set of a holiday movie.

Garlands framed shop windows and doorways. Planters dotted every corner, filled with pine boughs, magnolia branches, and sprigs of red berries. Tinsel decorations in the shape of wreaths and snowmen hung from the streetlights.

“Never said he was annoying,” Wyatt grumbled, pulling his seatbelt away from his neck. “A bit of an overprotective ass, maybe. But not annoying.”

Owen nodded in agreement. “Except his scent is too sweet.”

Joaquin laughed, weaving our fingers together, then bent our conjoined wrists at an extreme angle. “See? Annoying.”

When the light changed, Owen turned, taking us past municipal buildings and a city park with an outdoor ice rink.

It was picturesque to the extreme, filling me with envy—until we drove past the Maple Falls Rehabilitation Center. The sprawling medical complex was far less charming than its name suggested.

“That’s where she was,” Wyatt said in a low voice, breath fogging the glass. “After her accident.”

Where things went sour between them.

Cal caught up as we left downtown behind.

He trailed us past shopping centers and newer subdivisions until we reached an area with older houses on larger lots.

The GPS took us on a winding, scenic route across an old stone bridge and through a snowy ravine before finally arriving at a spacious cul-de-sac framed by historic houses.

We parked outside a stately colonial farmhouse clad in white shingles, with black shutters and a wrap-around porch decorated with pine garlands.

I didn’t know where to look—the wreaths with red baubles and giant bows or the life-size nutcrackers flanking the front door. A Christmas tree gleamed in a bay window. Even the attached garage out back, which looked like a carriage house, had candles flickering in the dormers on the second floor.

“What’s the verdict, babe?” Joaquin asked, rubbing my mating bite through my coat. “It’s a ‘holy shit, that’s stunning’ from me, but I could also see a simple ‘wow’ sufficing.”

“All of the above,” I replied, reaching for the door handle.

It was gorgeous. Beyond gorgeous, like a Christmas card come to life.

I was so captivated by the house that it left me breathless. And more than a little nauseated.

As we started up the driveway, Morgan came out of the side door, wearing her black anorak coat. She looked pleased to see us, in that muted way of hers, where only the corners of her lips curled up, and her eyes seemed more focused than usual.

At the very least, we were welcome.

“Any trouble finding the place?” she asked, mainly directing the question to Owen.

“Nah, your directions were crystal clear,” Wyatt replied instead, swooping in for a hug and kissing her cheek.

Morgan didn’t protest, but she also didn’t respond.

Nothing that would stop my mate from repeating the action. Joaquin snuck a kiss on her temple. “This place is incredible.”

She gave him a half-hearted shove. “Dad would love to hear that—and to regale you with thirty years of renovation stories.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Joaquin said, reaching over to pinch my ass. “Right, babe?”

“Manners,” Owen said dryly.

Joaquin snorted and followed Wyatt to check out the pair of tiny snowmen by the lamppost, clearly made by her nieces. Despite their rough construction, they were decked out to the max, with scarves, stick arms, carrot noses, and charcoal eyes.

Morgan stepped closer, her fingertips resting against the center of my sternum. “You all right?”

“Me?” I asked with a start.

“Yeah, you look…” After mulling over her word choice, she said gently, “A bit dazed.”

“Just a little real estate envy. It’ll pass in a minute.” I brushed snow out of her hair and leaned down. “Thanks for having us, even if it’s against your will.”

Not wanting to be left out, I quickly kissed her cheek, the movement almost frantic.

“Hi yourself,” she said, half of a smile breaking through as she poked my chest and stepped back. “Hope you’re hungry. Papa and Kelsey started prepping last night.”

“What are we having?” I asked

Her amber eyes sparkled with quiet delight. “You’ll see.”

“Well, I’m starving.” Cal pulled her in for a bear hug, swaying with her in his arms a few times before leaning down to sneak a proper kiss. “Can’t wait.”

A blush suffused Morgan’s cheeks as she ducked out of Cal’s embrace. She retreated a few steps down the driveway to walk beside Owen, where she assumed she’d be safe from further romantic overtures.

“Is this cutting into your time with Tabitha?” Morgan asked.

“Not at all,” Owen said.

His elbow awkwardly jerked forward, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. I suspected Owen wanted to take her arm but didn’t dare to. Another futile elbow jerk prompted Owen to shove his hands into his coat pockets.

Looks like someone was upset about missing his chance to kiss Morgan.

“Tabitha always turns us loose once Edith finishes fleecing Joaquin at poker,” I said, laughing at my mate, not our head alpha. Mostly.

“Which she managed in record time yesterday.” Wyatt trudged back over to the group, kicking snow off his shoes. “Barely lasted two hours.”

Joaquin lobbed a hasty snowball at Wyatt’s back, missing by a country mile. “Hey, don’t lie. I let her win.”

“Right,” Wyatt drawled, leading the way to the side door.

It swung open, and Rory all but tumbled out, along with a pair of yellow Labradors. “You’re here!”

A shorter, heavyset man with blond hair and a majestic beard greeted us from the doorway. He was about sixty, and in full possession of the soft allure and beautiful features you only found in omegas.

“Come in, come in. I’m Martijn, but you can call me Papa.” Martijn Van Daal beamed at us as we stepped inside, giving us each a welcoming hug. “I’m so happy we were able to make this work. Know you’re a bunch of busy fellows.”

We entered a spacious kitchen, where Kelsey was manning the stove, creating a symphony of mouth-watering aromas.

“Hi, guys,” she called, giving us a quick wave as a timer went off. A tray of fluffy homemade rolls emerged from the oven.

“Let me take your coats.” A woman with bold green streaks in her brown hair approached with a smile. She smelled of sun-warmed violets—a fellow beta. An adorable toddler clung to her leg.

A few of my nerves melted away.

“I’m Holly,” the woman said, “one of Audra’s mates. Not that I expect you to remember. It takes a few visits for names to stick.”

“I help,” the little girl said, reaching her plump little hands toward me.

“Thanks, Liv,” Morgan said, caressing her niece’s head, then gave me a wink and motioned to my neck.

I duly handed over my scarf to Liv before letting Holly take my coat. Rory had gathered most of the other jackets and led his niece through the kitchen, heading into a mudroom connecting the main house to the garage.

A second toddler girl ran after them, with a doll under each arm and a dress-up tiara on her head, shrieking something that sounded like, “Wait for me!”

“That was Cece,” Morgan said, guiding us through the kitchen. “Liv is quieter. Not much, but enough to tell them apart.”

We followed her into a nautical-themed living room, where Christmas chaos still abounded. Piles of presents surrounded the tree, and a trash bag overflowing with wrapping paper sat in the far corner.

Morgan’s three other parents stood by the fireplace in a well-practiced receiving line. It wasn’t their first time meeting a prospective pack.

Well, hopefully, we were a prospective pack.

Keon, also known as Dad, was the tallest. An alpha who smelled of cedar and suede, with mahogany skin and springy gray hair. He had a firm handshake and a booming yet warm voice.

Exactly the type of man I wished could have been my father growing up.

Pops was Dante, a smaller and sharper-looking alpha who smelled like agar wood, with an olive complexion and thick brown hair. He wore spectacles and a chunky cardigan, which I caught Cal eyeing with envy.

His features were a more masculine version of Morgan and Piper’s, with strong angles and a classic Roman nose.

The scent of warm summer rain enveloped me as Renee, their mother, pulled me in for a long hug.

She was the real surprise.

A petite beta beauty who’d generously shared at least one of her best features with each of her children: Rory had her auburn hair, Morgan her height and bow-shaped mouth, Piper her elegance, and Kelsey her freckled, peachy complexion.

Holly and Rory returned, swinging one of the twins between them. They settled her on the floor near the Christmas tree, where there were tons of new toys to play with.