Page 20 of Pack Scratch Fever

POE

I can’t mess this up.

I can’t ruin my second chance.

Piper is in our kitchen, her lemon and mint scent perfuming the area. Maddox and Avery’s subtle scents are on her skin as well, and I try not to let jealousy take over.

They were kind to her first.

I was an asshole.

Yet somehow, she still agreed to dinner with me.

Avery and Maddox aren’t coming back for a while—I have Piper all to myself.

My scent match .

I stopped lying to myself about it the day I gave her the plant.

She’s here, she’s my scent match, and I won’t fuck this up.

“You have to let me do something ,” she insists, standing at the counter and watching me chop baby spinach.

I quit my knife work to look into her inviting eyes. “Fine. You can juice a lime if you insist.”

She laughs. “I can do more than that. I’m not going to just sit idly by while you do all this!”

“When’s the last time someone cooked for you?” I ask pointedly.

When she remains silent, I resume chopping. “Exactly,” I say. “Allow me to do something nice for you.”

Hopefully, it will be the first of many things.

Dinner tonight is poached white fish in coconut milk. I had asked her what her preferences were, and when she said she was pescatarian, I let out a pleased hum.

I mastered this meal in college, and it’s one of my favorites when I take the time to cook.

“I didn’t take you for a cooking guy,” she admits.

“What did you take me for, then?”

I dread her answer.

“I figured you lived off spite and energy drinks.” Her expression is playful, and I can’t help but smile, too. “At least that’s what I thought the first day we met.”

“I was insufferable. I’m surprised you didn’t punch me in the face.”

“I thought about it,” she admits, leaning against the counter. “But you brought in that kitten, and it’s hard to remain angry when there’s an animal in need.”

She’s so sweet it makes my chest ache.

“You’re remarkable,” I admit quietly. I heat the olive oil in the pan and turn my back to her, opening the pantry to find a can of coconut milk.

I hear her scoff. “You had a kitten that needed help, Poe. It’s not remarkable. It’s what any person would do.”

“That’s the thing.” I turn back around, canned milk in hand. “Not any person. Only good people.”

She chews her lip and looks away. “Yeah,” she mutters.

I catch a glimpse of her mating gland peeking out from her blouse, and my mouth waters.

She’s right there to take, mere steps away. It would be so easy to mark her.

But her scent has soured in the time since my compliment, as if she doesn’t believe my words.

“Did I say something wrong?” I ask, and I’m met with a pair of sad eyes.

She shrugs. “You didn’t. It’s just…” her voice trails off. “Just don’t put me on a pedestal, okay? I’m not a saint or anything like that. I could be doing more.”

I frown. “What are you talking about?”

“There’s always more I could be doing,” she repeats softly. “I could be more successful. So don’t make it seem like what I do is a huge accomplishment when it’s not.”

I stare at her, confused.

Finally, it clicks.

“Who told you that?” I ask, taking a step toward her.

She looks up at me, her eyes guarded. “What do you mean?”

“Those aren’t your words. Those aren’t coming from you. Someone else told you that at least once, and it stuck with you.”

And the reason I know that? It’s my internal monologue.

But it was originally spoken by someone else.

Piper’s scent sours even more, and I worry I’ve ruined the evening before it even started.

“No one,” she snaps. “I just know what I’m capable of, and I’m not reaching my full potential.”

I want to argue with her and insist that she not talk about herself that way. I want to force her to see herself the way my packmates and I see her.

But her walls are still up, and I have no right to ask anything of her.

Instead, I offer her some of my own truth—it’s the least I can do for her.

“I feel the same way,” I say, and her eyebrows scrunch together.

She motions to me. “Are you serious? Now that’s insane. Coming from the guy who works so hard he doesn’t leave his office?”

I shrug. “There’s always more to do, right?”

Piper shakes her head. “Not in your case. I’m sure you’ve done enough for ten lawyers.”

“And you’ve done enough for a hundred cat ladies, but here we are.”

She scoffs, but she smiles, and that will have to do for now.

By the time dinner is ready, her scent is almost unbearable.

It’s heady, delicious, and everything I didn’t know I needed.

I haven’t yearned like this in ages.

I originally wanted to eat outside because it’s more intimate and the night air is the perfect temperature.

But it also helps that I won’t be confined indoors with Piper’s scent.

I’m acting as if I’m in my twenties.

I yearn.

I want.

This scent match is unlike anything I’ve experienced, and knowing that my packmates already tasted her makes this even more torturous.

My inner Alpha fights to break out of its cage and take over.

Piper and I sit next to each other on the cushioned bench with our plates on the glass table.

I wait with bated breath as she takes her first bite of fish, hoping that I’ve finally done something right for her.

“That’s exquisite,” she breathes, closing her eyes. “Wow.”

My Alpha roars in triumph.

I provided for her.

I fed my mate .

My internal monologue becomes more primal every moment I’m with her.

“I’m glad you like it,” I tell her. “Again, one of many ways I intend to make up for my behavior.”

At that, she smirks. “We’ll see,” she says. “It’s going to take a lot more than a plant and some dinner to make up for you calling my favorite animals pests.”

Her face is playful, but I’m reminded of how rude I was to her. “I insulted your work,” I murmur. “I’m sorry for that again.”

“It’s fine, Poe,” she says, placing her fork down. “I’m just teasing you. You’ve more than made up for it. Besides, you wouldn’t be the first person to say that. Like I said when we met, you weren’t even the worst encounter I’ve had.”

She says it doesn’t bother her, but her warm eyes are guarded as she speaks.

It doesn’t sit right with me.

“I’ve envied you,” I admit to her. “Since the first day we met.”

That seems to startle her. “Why the hell would you do something like that?” she asks sharply. “What do you mean, you envy me ?”

“You love what you do. It gives you a purpose,” I say. “That first day, you called me out for being a jerk and assuming that you would take care of the cat problem we had. The rescue is more than your job. It’s your passion.”

Her gaze softens. “That doesn’t mean you should envy me, Poe.

There is always something going wrong, always something I have to worry about.

There’s the lingering thought that maybe our veterinarian won’t be able to work with us anymore, or that we’ll see a huge drop in donations and not have enough resources.

Nothing is guaranteed with this. Ever.” She lets out a deep sigh and stares at her plate, scowling.

“From what Avery and Maddox have told me, you have an army of people that are ready to do whatever you need them to do,” I add softly. “And that includes me.”

I don’t miss the subtle shake of her head. “I have no other choice but to do this. I have to do this, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy.”

Her hands are in her lap, and I slowly reach and take one. She allows me, but it remains limp in my hold. I run my finger over her knuckles, marveling at the softness of her skin. Electricity thrums through me, and she meets my gaze, her eyes glassy.

I decide to be vulnerable.

“The first day I met you, you reminded me of what I didn’t have,” I explain.

“You showed up at three in the morning at our packhouse because you care about what you do. You didn’t have to.

You could have ignored Avery and Maddox panicking and told them to deal with the cats themselves, but you didn’t.

Then I came home, miserable from working eighteen hours, and you’re on my couch, chatting with my packmates with this… fire in your eyes.”

She squeezes my hand back.

“You’re what I want to be, Piper. You love what you do.

I don’t. Avery and Maddox enjoy their jobs, and at times it feels as if I’m just doing what’s expected of me.

I’m jealous of you because you have autonomy over your career.

You’re as hard on yourself as I am, but you’ve done something remarkable with that pressure. ”

I finally spilled it all to her.

I’ve put so many years into the firm, but recently, it hasn’t felt like enough.

It’s been eating at me and turning me into someone I don’t want to be.

The job has become mind-numbing, and it’s reached the point where I dread waking up in the morning.

But I don’t know exactly what to do about it.

All I know is that Piper, this Omega who smells like heaven, makes me want to do more with my life.

My chest is tight as I wait for her response. She stares at me, searching my eyes with her own troubled ones.

“Certain people wouldn’t agree with you,” she says, her voice clipped.

I don’t know who these certain people are, but I have a feeling it’s the same ones that told her she could be doing more.

“Certain people are stupid ,” I spit. She turns away from me to study the garden. She frowns, and I follow her gaze.

A grey blob with a long, fluffy tail sniffs around my herb garden, and I sigh at the interruption.

Piper smiles.

“I recognize that one,” she says. “That’s the tomcat likely responsible for that entire colony.”

As if the cat can understand English, he looks at me and lets out a dramatic yowl, then heads over to us.

He leaps swiftly onto the table before I can blink, his large green eyes meeting mine as he plops near the ledge.

Piper laughs as I hold a staring contest with the cat, bewildered.

“What the hell is going on?” I demand, and she only laughs harder.

“I’m telling you, it’s the catnip scent,” she chuckles.

The cat gives me a slow blink; its fluffy tail swishing behind it.

I chance a look at Piper, who is giving me a breathtaking smile.

“He’s fixed and vaccinated, but Mari thought he wasn’t adoptable,” she says with wonder. “You’re just a cat whisperer.”

A deep, strong rumble sounds from the feline, who continues to slow blink at me.

“I genuinely don’t understand what’s happening right now,” I mutter.

“The same thing that happened with Mister Whiskers. He likes you. This is a pretty big deal.”

“But why is this happening ? All because of my scent?”

The cat moves a paw closer, and I hold out my hand to push him away, but he simply nuzzles his cheek against me.

“From my experience, it’s a number of things, not just scent. They see something in you,” Piper murmurs. “It’s a huge compliment, believe me. Our scents combined must be what is attracting him.”

Because we’re scent matches, I want to add.

Her lemon-mint and my earthy aromas create something so mouthwatering that even cats can’t resist it.

The irony.

Thankfully, the cat only nuzzles my hand one more time before jumping off the table and scampering away, while Piper watches me in disbelief.

“What?” I ask her, wiping cat fur off the table.

“Dinner and a show,” she chuckles. “What a night.”

I scowl and swat at her with my napkin. “What a night indeed.”

She giggles, and I commit the sound to memory.

I vow to make her laugh like that as often as I can.