Page 36

"Or its timing," Jax adds, a hint of rueful humor in his voice. "It's not an excuse for our behavior, but this came at a time when our brains were already collectively scrambled by Darren's designation."

"No, I get it, I just…" I take a deep breath, trying to center myself. "This is a lot to process."

"We know," Jax says, his expression softening. "And we understand if you need time. Space. Whatever you need."

"We just wanted to be honest," Aidan adds earnestly. "Now that all the cards are on the table."

"And to apologize again," Dmitri says, his blue eyes serious. "For the poor first impression. And second."

"We know we've made a mess of things so far," Jax continues, his gray eyes meeting mine directly. "But we'd like the chance to show you who we really are. What our pack is usually like, not what it's been lately."

The sincerity in his voice, in all their faces, is disarming. These aren't the awkward, uncomfortable men from The Terrace, or the absent pack from our first planned meeting. They seem genuine. Open.

And terrified I'm going to walk out the door. I'm used to being on the other end of the equation.

"I don't know what to say," I admit, overwhelmed by the intensity of five pairs of eyes fixed on me. "This isn't exactly a situation I ever imagined myself in."

"Join the club," Zayn mutters, earning himself an elbow from Dmitri.

"We're not asking for any decisions tonight," Jax assures me. "Just a chance. To get to know you. For you to get to know us."

"As people," Aidan adds quickly. "Not just as potential... whatever."

"We can take things slow," Darren says, his voice gentle as he tentatively reaches for my hand again. "As slow as you need."

I look down at our joined hands, his large palm engulfing mine. His touch grounds me, cuts through my chaotic thoughts.

I've been hurt before. Four times, to be exact. The idea of opening myself up to that kind of pain again, multiplied by five, is terrifying.

But there's something about these men. Something that makes me want to take the risk.

"Slow," I agree finally, looking up to meet five pairs of hopeful eyes. "We can try it slow."

The relief that washes over their faces is almost comical in its intensity. Aidan actually pumps his fist before catching himself, a blush spreading across his freckled cheeks.

The others look both relieved and excited, even though I can tell they're trying to play it cool. Not to scare me off.

And Darren... Darren looks at me like I've just handed him the world.

"Thank you," Jax says simply, the words carrying all five men's gratitude.

"Don't thank me yet," I warn, though I can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips. "I haven't agreed to anything beyond dinner."

"Dinner is good start," Dmitri says with a decisive nod. "Food builds bridges."

"Speaking of food," Aidan interjects, clearly eager to move past the awkwardness, "everything's getting cold. And I spent like six hours on that risotto."

"How is that even possible?" Darren quips. "Did you milk the cow yourself?"

Aidan's face goes blank. "What the hell do you think risotto is?”

The mood shifts, lightening as plates are passed and wine is poured.

The conversation turns to safer topics. M business, their upcoming games, Aidan's apparent stress-baking habit that has filled their freezer with enough muffins to feed a small army, and Darren's lighthearted threats of an intervention.

Gradually, I find myself relaxing. These men are not what I expected.

Jax, despite his intimidating presence and clear authority as pack alpha, has a dry wit that emerges when he's comfortable.

Dmitri, for all his stoic exterior, listens with an intensity that makes you feel truly heard.

Aidan's enthusiasm is infectious, his genuine interest in everything from my design process to my favorite movies drawing me out of my shell.

Zayn surprises me most of all. Beneath the sharp edges and caustic remarks is a keen intelligence and unexpected depth. He asks insightful questions about my business model, offering suggestions that actually make sense.

“Maybe limited edition collaborations,” he says as we move from dinner to dessert, an impressive array of Aidan's baking efforts. “Creates artificial scarcity. Drives up demand and justifies higher price points.”

"That's not a bad idea," I admit, surprised. "I hadn't thought of that."

He shrugs, a hint of smugness in his smile. "I minored in business before hockey took over my life. Some of it stuck."

Through it all, Darren remains a steady presence beside me, his hand occasionally finding mine under the table, his smile warm whenever our eyes meet.

There's a new ease to him here, in his home with his pack, that I haven't seen before.

Despite the complications, these men are his family. His foundation.

And they're trying. All of them, in their own ways, are making an effort to make me feel welcome. To show me who they really are, beyond our previous encounters. Or lack thereof.

It's nice. Nicer than I expected. Nice enough that when Aidan suggests moving to the living room for coffee and more dessert, I find myself agreeing without hesitation.

The living room is as comfortable as it first appeared, with plush leather couches arranged around a large coffee table. I settle onto one end of a sofa, expecting Darren to join me. Instead, Aidan plops down beside me, eagerly offering a plate of what he calls "experimental brownies."

"Uh, how experimental are we talking?" I ask warily. "There's an unusual spice, or I'm going to be dancing on the table by midnight?"

"Wouldn't complain about that," Zayn says, flashing a wolfish grin that immediately makes me blush.

"They just have chili powder," Aidan explains, watching anxiously as I take a bite. "Just a hint. For complexity."

The brownie is rich and fudgy, with a subtle warmth that blooms at the back of my throat. "These are amazing," I tell him honestly, and his face lights up with joy.

"Really? I wasn't sure about the balance. I tried three different versions before settling on this one."

"The rookie's been baking since dawn," Zayn comments, confirming what Darren told me in the car as he settles into an armchair across from us. "If you don't like something, please lie. For all our sakes."

"I heard that," Aidan calls over his shoulder, already heading back to the kitchen for coffee.

Darren takes the spot on my other side, his thigh pressing warmly against mine. "Having fun?" he asks quietly, his blue eyes searching mine.

"Surprisingly, yes," I admit. "Your pack is not what I expected."

"Good unexpected or bad unexpected?"

"Good," I assure him, and the smile that spreads across his face makes my heart patter.

Yep. I’m screwed.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of conversation, laughter, and more dessert than any six people should reasonably consume.

I learn that Dmitri has a secret passion for gardening, that Jax writes poetry he never shows anyone, that Zayn speaks three languages fluently, and that Aidan once tried to dye his hair team colors and ended up with what he describes as "toxic sludge green" for two months no matter what he did.

I find myself sharing stories too, about growing up with Jessica as a sister, about the disaster that was my first attempt at designing knitwear, about the time I accidentally shipped a customer the wrong order and ended up with a five-star review anyway because "the universe knew what she needed better than she did. "

It's easy. Comfortable. Nothing like the strained, awkward interactions I'd been bracing myself for.

By the time I glance at my watch and realize it's nearly midnight, I'm genuinely surprised. The time has flown by in a way I wasn't expecting.

"I should probably head home," I say reluctantly, setting down my coffee mug. "I have orders to pack in the morning."

"Of course," Jax says, standing immediately. "Thank you for coming. For giving us a chance."

"Thank you for having me," I say, finding I mean it.

"It was our pleasure," Dmitri adds, his accent thicker with the late hour and what I suspect is a fair amount of Aidan's bourbon cherries.

"We should do this again," Aidan says eagerly, then catches himself. "I mean, if you want to. No pressure."

"I'd like that," I find myself saying, and I mean it. Despite the bombshell they dropped, despite the complications, I've enjoyed myself tonight.

Each of the alphas takes a moment saying goodbye, and Aidan secretly passes me his chocolate chip cookie recipe like it's an arcane secret and Zayn might intercept it at any moment.

Darren insists on driving me home, waving off my protests about him being tired after a long day. The others see us to the door, their goodbyes warm but not overwhelming. There's no pressure, no expectation, just genuine satisfaction in the evening we've shared.

The drive back to my apartment is quiet, comfortable. Darren's hand finds mine across the center console.

"Thank you," he says as we pull up in front of my building. "For tonight. For giving them a chance."

"They're not so bad," I admit with a small smile. "When they're not running away from the dinner table or making cryptic comments about pumpkin spice."

He laughs, the sound warm in the confines of the car. "They grow on you. Like a fungus."

"Charming comparison."

"You know what I mean." His expression grows more serious. "They really liked you, Lexie. All of them."

"Even Zayn?" I ask skeptically.

"Especially Zayn," Darren says with a grin. "He actually acted almost human tonight. That's practically a declaration of undying devotion from him."

I laugh, shaking my head. "The bar is very low, apparently."

"The lowest," he agrees, his smile softening as he looks at me. "But seriously, thank you. For being open to this. Whatever this is becoming."

"I'm still processing," I admit. "The whole scent match thing is... a lot."

"I know." He squeezes my hand gently. "No pressure, remember? We go as slow as you need."

I study his face in the dim light of the car, the strong line of his jaw, the warmth in his blue eyes, the slight curl at the corner of his mouth. Despite everything that should come between the two of us, I'm drawn to this man, this omega, in a way I can't fully explain.

Maybe there is something to this scent match business after all.

"Walk me to my door?" I ask, and his smile widens.

"Absolutely."

The night air is cool as we make our way up the walkway to my building, our hands still linked. At my door, I turn to face him, suddenly shy despite the intimacy we've already shared.

"So," I say, fidgeting with my keys. "That was an interesting evening."

"That's one word for it," he agrees with a soft laugh. "Not exactly how I planned to introduce you to the concept of being our scent match."

"Oh? And how did you plan it?"

"I didn't get that far," he admits. "I was still stuck on the 'how do I tell her without her running for the hills because of my crazy pack' part."

I smile, touched by his honesty. "Well, I'm still here. No hills in sight."

"Thank gods for that." His hand comes up to cup my cheek, his touch gentle. "And no window escapes, either." He pauses. "Can I see you again soon? Just us, maybe?"

The hope in his voice is impossible to resist. "I'd like that."

His smile is brilliant, lighting up his entire face. "Good. That's... good."

He leans in slowly, giving me plenty of time to pull away if I wanted to. I don't. Instead, I meet him halfway, our lips coming together in a kiss that's soft and sweet and full of promise.

When we part, his eyes are dark, his breath coming a little faster. "I should go," he says reluctantly. "Before I forget all about taking things slow."

The heat in his gaze sends a shiver down my spine. "Probably a good idea."

He steals one more quick kiss before stepping back. "I'll call you tomorrow?"

"I'll answer," I promise, and the smile that spreads across his face makes me decide this is a risk worth taking.

I watch him walk back to his car, waiting until he's inside before unlocking my door. As I step into my apartment, I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips.

I'm still terrified. Still uncertain. Still not entirely convinced that this impossible situation can work out.

But I guess I have a little bit of hope left in me after all.