Page 5

Chapter 5

Thorne

I stand at the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office, hands in my pockets, watching the stream of traffic flow forty stories below. The city pulses with life, but my mind drifts elsewhere. Something feels off today - has for weeks now.

The click of heels against marble breaks my contemplation.

“Your papers for the Thomson meeting, Mr. Stone.” My personal assistant’s voice carries that breathy quality she reserves just for me.

I turn. She’s wearing a fitted pencil skirt that hugs her slim hips, her blonde hair falling in waves past her shoulders. She’s very pretty, in that predictable way that used to draw me in.

Many times.

Too many times.

And my dick ruled my head when I offered her a job as we dressed.

“Thanks.” I take the folder and inhale, remembering that last night we fucked at Club Midnight. The way her scent had seemed intoxicating then. The way we pretended we didn’t know each other. But now? Nothing. Not even a spark. It’s as though it never happened.

The scent was so intense that night, I almost sank my teeth into her neck to claim her.

Fuck!

I scrub my hand over my jaw every time I think about that.

What a fucking disaster that would’ve been. Not that I thought that at the time. I was furious when I woke up and found out she was gone.

The night she pretended never happened. I get it was a game we played, pretending we didn’t know each other. But she has still never mentioned it—not once.

I’ve never touched her since that night, and I’ve often wondered if she used a special perfume to lure me, something that masked her true scent. Because she doesn’t smell like that anymore.

Maya lingers, straightening items on my desk that don’t need straightening. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, that’s all.”

Her fingers trail along the edge of my desk as she walks around it and eventually stands beside me. “You seem tense. I could help you...de-stress?”

“Not today, Maya.”

She steps closer, tilting her head. “Tonight then? We could grab dinner first...”

“No.” I let my alpha tone seep into my voice, watching her shoulders instantly drop in submission. “That’s not happening. Not today, not tonight.” I want to say not forever, but the words catch in my throat. “We’ve discussed this.”

“You haven’t wanted me for months now. What have I done wrong?” Her voice cracks. “What can I do to make it better?”

“Find yourself an alpha who wants you.” The words don’t hurt me like I thought they would. I’d say I feel lighter and happier for finally telling her how I feel.

Her cheeks flush pink. “I just thought—”

She was just sex. She had to be. My pack mates felt nothing for her.

“Just a pretty face,” Miller said when I asked him about her.

“No way. She’s not mine.” Zane was much blunter .

“You thought wrong. The meeting papers are all I need. You can go.”

“I’ve wasted nearly a year waiting for you to want me.” She stares at me for a moment and then retreats when I don’t answer her.

The sharp click of her heels on the floor irritates my ears before she stops and turns back to me. “What did I do wrong?”

“Your scent changed and you still haven’t told me why.”

“I used to wear scent blockers in Club Midnight. I never wore any scent to attract you. You were attracted to me without a scent.”

I shake my head. “You’re lying. Be honest with yourself.”

“I am.” She sighs when I arch an eyebrow. “Stupid fucking alphas who are waiting for their scent matches. You know scent compatibility is enough. I like your smell, you like mine.”

I shake my head.

Her chest rises before she turns away and closes the door behind her with a thud.

I return to the window, loosening my tie. The city stretches endlessly before me, but somehow feels smaller than usual.

Needing to get down to work, I settle into my leather chair, flipping through Maya’s meticulously prepared papers. The Thompson deal could net us millions if I play this right, but the numbers swim before my eyes, refusing to hold my attention.

My finger clicks on the mouse, opening a new tab on my computer.

Club Midnight’s website fills my screen, the dark aesthetics, and crimson accents speaking to my baser needs.

My eyes scan the schedule. I haven’t been since that night. And my pack mates much longer.

“Pain night,” I mutter, shaking my head. Last night’s theme makes my skin crawl. Not my scene.

Tonight’s “Pack Fantasy” catches my attention, but not as much as tomorrow’s offering. Tomorrow is “new omegas” night.

Maybe tomorrow is the night. The night we finally find the one that all our pack agrees on.

I grab my phone, typing a quick message to Miller.

Up for some fun tomorrow? Fresh blood at the club.

His response comes fast.

Miller: No. And I need to talk to you about something when you get home.

Me: I’ll be home around seven.

“Fuck.” I lean back, staring at the ceiling. I never even argued with him. “What the fuck is happening to me? What is happening to my pack?”

Once upon a time, we’d be desperate for the twenty-four hours to tick by to get into the club. Now it’s a nonchalant shrug of our shoulders.

The desk phone buzzes. “Mr. Thompson is here,” Maya’s professional voice announces. Despite her annoyance, she always acts with dignity in front of clients. “Should I send him in?”

She sounds so sweet.

She looks so sweet.

I don’t know why she no longer does it for me.

She doesn’t smell as sweet.

Maya seemed perfect on paper. An omega who triggered something in me when I met her at Club Midnight. But now? Nothing. Especially the memory of her scent that last night. It was intoxicating, but it doesn’t match what I smell on her now.

Is that possible? Can an omega change her scent that much? Unless she was on scent modifiers. Some omegas use blockers, some use a scent with a hint of alpha pheromones, and some use other omegas perfumes. But why do that?

It also makes little sense because I could smell her as though she were my mate.

Was she so desperate she had a perfume made up to smell like me?

Did she hunt me?

Did she want my pack?

She’s admitted it since. Asked to be our pack omega. Not all packs wait for their scent matched mates. Omegas are so rare that some packs just want an omega to call theirs. An omega who they can breed.

But I can’t give her that. Not anymore. My pack is waiting. It started with Zane’s constant preaching about waiting for our true mates. But that’s my younger brother, the romantic, the virgin. The one who is still holding out for some perfect match while denying his alpha urges.

I laugh to myself. It’s been that long since I fucked an omega—anyone—you’d think I was celibate. I’m not. I’m just waiting for the right one. I found her once. Or did I?

“Are you okay, Mr. Stone?” Maya asks, and I realize she is still waiting for an answer.

I close the browser, straightening my tie. “Send him in.”

Time to do what I do best. This deal won’t negotiate itself.

But somewhere in the back of my mind, something persists. Like I’m missing something crucial. Something important.

I slam through the front door of our beach house, tossing my jacket onto the leather couch. The day’s meetings have drained every ounce of energy from my body.

Miller appears from the kitchen, bourbon in hand. “Rough day?”

“The worst.” I take the glass, savoring the burn as I swallow. “Where’s Zane?”

“Called about an hour ago. Emergency came in right as his shift ended.”

My jaw clenches. “He needs to quit that damn job. The family business is waiting for him.”

“He’s different from you, Thorne.” Miller leans against the doorframe. “Not everyone’s cut out for boardrooms and takeovers. Including Zane and me.”

“We haven’t done a takeover in five years, and that job nearly killed him once already.” The memory of seeing my brother in that hospital bed, covered in burns, still haunts me.

“You still have to let him make his own way in the world.”

“He’s my baby brother,” I say as I step out onto the balcony, letting the ocean breeze cool my temper. The waves crash against the shore in steady rhythm. “Anyway, how was your day at the hospital?”

“Interesting. That’s what I wanted to tell you about.” Miller joins me, resting his elbows on the railing. “Had this pregnant omega come in?”

I laugh. “You have omegas coming to you every day.”

“Not like this one.” He stares into his glass. “She wore scent blockers, but there was something about her. A hint of strawberry that made my inner alpha growl.”

I go to take a drink of my bourbon, but my hand freezes mid-lift.

Strawberry is one of my pack’s scents, but we’ve smelled the berry on plenty of omegas in the past.

“Just a hint of strawberry? Anything else?” I’d normally walk away from him right now, but the way he is looking at me roots my feet to the spot.

Miller runs his hands through his hair, frustration etched across his face. “Although her perfume was masked with a scent blocker, there was more. There was something about not only her smell…but her. But—”

Miller doesn’t normally have his head turned by patients, but I still have to interrupt him. “But she’s pregnant and must have alphas who asked her to go on scent blockers or modifiers to protect her.”

“I told her she had to get rid of them.” His voice drips with exasperation.

“Why? She already has alphas—a pack.”

He hesitates, chewing on his words. “Not sure if she was lying to me. Her face went a beautiful shade of pink when she claimed she had alphas and that they were away on business.” He smiles to himself. “Ah, that face. She was gorgeous, even more so with the flushed cheeks and her copper hair.”

Copper hair? I raise an eyebrow.

“Was she pretty?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Not your version of pretty. She wasn’t a blonde catwalk model with skinny arms and legs; she was curvy.”

Curvy? “She was pregnant.”

Miller rolls his eyes at me, annoyance clear. “It wasn’t just the pregnancy. I agree her tits were massive, but she had a softness about her.”

“I like curves.”

“Only fucking tits,” he grumbles. “You normally like smaller girls.”

I chuckle, shaking my head.

“Talking about tits and asses,” I say, smirking at him. “As we’re not going to Club Midnight? Do you wanna hit a bar? I need to chill and get rid of this stress I’m feeling.”

Miller laughs, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “And you want Zane to join you at the company?”

All talk of the pregnant omega disappears.

“Yeah? What’s wrong with that? The boardroom won’t kill him.”

“Stress can kill.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, that fireman’s life calls to him.”

“That fireman's life nearly got him killed.” The thought sends a jolt through me—what if something happened again?

Miller meets my gaze, seriousness returning to his features. “You know he wouldn’t be happy in the company.”

I exhale sharply, tension tightening in my chest. “Doesn’t mean he shouldn’t try it.”

He looks out at the horizon as if searching for answers in the waves crashing against the shore.

“Listen,” Miller says finally, “he’ll figure it out when he’s ready.”

The weight of those words lingers between us. What if I don’t have the time to change my brother’s mind?

Miller knows how I feel. How I willed Zane to wake the hell up when he was in a coma. And yet Miller still thinks it’s okay that my brother is out there chasing danger after everything that happened to him.

I take a sip of my bourbon and stare ahead. “I was slightly tempted by Maya today. I just need–”

“She’s not ours,” he replies. “Forget her.”

“She had the perfect scent once...” My voice comes out harsher than intended. “She was perfect. Her platinum blonde hair, beautiful pale green eyes and the way she looked at me as I knotted her.”

“I thought Maya had blue eyes,” Miller says.

“Must have been the overhead lights.”

“Anyway, she’s not mine. But hopefully, one day, we’ll agree on the same omega.” Miller studies me for a moment before continuing. “I want to settle down. I think you do. Maybe when we have an omega, Zane will respect your wishes because he doesn’t want to upset his omega.”

I laugh, but Miller continues, “I don’t think he’ll want to put himself in harm’s way if he had one.”

“And how do you know that?”

Miller’s shoulder sag as he turns and looks into the distance. “I don’t—I just hope I’m right, for all our sakes.”