Page 44 of Unbonded (Pack’s Companion #3)

Coming home to New York is always a sweet relief.

I enjoy visiting my birthplace, but I’m a lot less enamored with spending time in the ice castle that passes as the Janssen family estate.

To say that my childhood was lacking in warmth is putting it mildly.

I grew up thinking I was living in a real ice castle, given the frigid air that would chill me to the bone, even with all the ancient fireplaces burning to capacity.

The fact that I would stare into those flames, wishing they would rise up to engulf the whole house, only struck me as odd when I left for boarding school and learned that not all families were like mine.

By comparison, the warmth of my New York home is so startling, I can almost hear the crack of my thawing heart when I cross the threshold.

For years it has been because of Bram at my side, always ready to be a buffer between me and the harsh realities of the world.

But now we are talking about forming a pack, and walking into my house when it is saturated in the scents of our potential mates is like going from an ice bath to a slick-scented sauna.

Careful, Corbus. Showing emotion is a sign of poor breeding.

Words spoken to me by my own mother when I was told my father wouldn’t be returning for my fifth birthday.

He was away on another business trip, and even as a child I knew it was because he preferred the company of strangers.

Something I always thought I inherited, until I met Bram and realized it wasn’t familial bonds I disliked – it was just my family that left me cold.

Case in point, my trip to the Janssen estate to inform my mother that I am officially moving the company headquarters from Brussels to New York.

Since my father’s death three years ago, she’s shown minimal interest in the family business as long as I keep her in the manner – and rare gems – she’s become accustomed to.

She dismissed the news with a wave of her bejeweled hand, those blue eyes I inherited as soulful as chips of glass as she stared at me across the breakfast table.

New York, she supposed, was better than Los Angeles, even though my mother has never stepped foot outside Europe.

“There’s a reason Paragon gems are rare, Corbus. We only accept the very best.”

Once upon a time I would have hurried to assure her that the family legacy was safe, no matter its inferior location in the Americas.

But it’s been years since I danced to her poisonous tune, and I just spread another layer of blackberry jam on my breakfast roll.

This is the last meeting I plan to have with Mother for the foreseeable future, so I’m in no mood to stretch it out with unnecessary chitchat.

“We will be celebrating the launch with some new additions to the pink diamond range.”

She sniffs, but I know she’s been eyeing one of the larger diamonds for herself.

She knows the rare pinks are my favorite, hoarding them away like nuts for her eternal winter.

I’d hoped to keep her focus on business, but as she nibbles the edge of her croissant, I can feel her gaze burning into the side of my face.

“And are you finally going to give that dancer your bond?”

Give, not ask. It wouldn’t occur to my mother that Dash would have any say in the matter.

“Things are progressing,” I tell her, in the same voice I use when Bram insists we discuss our insurance coverage.

But my mother isn’t going to be put off by my apparent indifference. “And what about these rumors I hear of him being in a relationship with another omega? An employee of yours, if I’m not mistaken.”

Despite her refusal to travel to New York, my mother has spies all over the city. “Kate Valentine. She doesn’t work for me. She’s part of my pack.”

“But I heard she’s unbonded .” The word rolls off her tongue like a cockroach scuttling away from the light. “You’re not seriously thinking of making her a Janssen , Corbus.”

“We haven’t discussed our pack name,” I say with a cool shrug, even though the idea rolls through my veins like molten lava. “But I’m not making her anything. Kate is perfect as she is.”

I don’t add that I’ve already changed out every flower display in the Paragon empire from my mother’s signature hyacinths to bouquets of white florals and orange blossoms.

My mother gives a disapproving sniff and dabs at her bitter little mouth.

“I suppose I see the appeal, since this dancer is a male.” She means Kate’s ability to give me children – the necessary genetic offspring to continue the Janssen line.

“Although, why you chose him when you have every ballerina in the world just dying to be a Janssen Jewel is beyond me.”

“Perhaps because I love him.”

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. At the age of thirty-two, I’ve learned to hide most of myself from my mother, but she pounces on this revelation with a brittle laugh. “Oh, Corbus, that’s very sweet, but we both know love isn’t something you’ll ever be able to feel.”

She’s never put her opinion of my emotional capacity quite so bluntly. “What does that mean?”

“It’s fine, my dear.” She gives my hand a condescending pat, and I snatch it away as if it’s frostbitten.

“Let your pack love you. Your name and money are more than enough to keep them invested. But don’t expect to truly bond them.

” Her hand flits towards her bonding mark, covered in its lace-and-diamond choker.

I’ve only seen it a handful of times in my life, and from memory it looks more like a skin tag than a mating bite.

“You simply don’t inspire that connection. ”

The fact that she scorns Kate for being unbonded – when her own husband could barely sink his teeth into her - has me on my feet, my napkin dropped on the table. “You’re the one who knows nothing about love, Mother. Don’t wait for an invitation to the bonding ceremony, because you won’t get one.”

“Corbus!”

I don’t bother to kiss her cheek - I have the emotional capacity of a rock, after all. “Goodbye, Mother.”

“You can’t seriously be leaving like this!”

“Ah, but that’s the beauty of money. I don’t have to see you to keep you fed and clothed.”

It seems it’s a day of hard truths, but my mother’s eyes narrow like a viper’s. “If you’re going to settle for a mediocre pack, don’t expect my blessing! From the moment you were born, I knew you’d never live up to the Janssen name!”

The words bounce off me, as harmless as the rain against the window pane. “I hope that thought follows you all the way to your cold, lonely grave.”

It was only as Bram and I drove to the airport that I realized I never got around to telling her that I’m a scent match. Not that she would’ve believed me, but I don’t like denying our bond, even if the omission saved me from more ridicule.

I was being honest when I told my mother that Kate is perfect as she is.

I understood Dash’s infatuation from the moment he voiced it – I just didn’t think the potential was there for me to feel that way, too.

She smelled divine, but Dash was my goal, and I’d spent six long, frustrating months trying to pass myself off as a worthy suitor.

My mother is right about one thing – emotional regulation is the mountain range I have to conquer every day.

The highs are euphoric, but the lows are like plunging into an abyss, and most days it’s just easier to don a mask and pretend I’m a normally functioning person.

My brain chemistry is already a mystery to me, without adding in the complexity of a scent bond. If it wasn’t for Lachlan - the third piece to the puzzle - I’d wonder if it wasn’t just a case of wishful thinking, like Kate said.

But I can see the truth of it now, as I stand in the scent-soaked bedroom and strip my travel-chilled clothes from my body.

The three of them are slotted together in the nest like two big spoons cradling a little one.

As always, the golden boy is guarding the back of his lifelong love, and I study him as I drop my cufflinks on the vanity.

Lachlan is handsome with his golden hair and square jaw, but his scent holds the real allure, like sunshine pooling on a warm rock.

It’s ironic that he looks like the prince in the Ice Queen book I read as a child, trying to imagine myself winning the favor of a princess in a distant land.

My gaze moves to his prize – our scent match – and I feel my heart thud in my chest as I loosen the knot on my tie.

They look so happy together – so complete – how can there possibly be a place for me?

“Don’t drop it on the floor, Bram!” Dash’s scolding tone penetrates my haze, and I watch as my best friend sheepishly scoops his shirt back up.

He looks at the crumpled fabric with skeptical eyes, but Dash is snapping his fingers as if it’s another box of handgemaakte chocolade .

“Can’t you see I need it right here ?” Dash stabs a finger at the corner of the nest and snatches the shirt out of Bram’s hands, before turning his fierce regard my way. “Yours too, Mr. Egyptian Cotton.”

Kate snorts at the command, but I hand it over with a slight bow. I have more titles than silk ties, but if it puts dimples in her cheeks, I’d happily add it to my letterhead.

“Do you want the pants too?” Bram asks, looking perplexed.

He’s unflappable in most areas of his life, but he’s always been self-conscious about his clothes.

He refuses to shop at the designer stores, preferring the same boxy suits and basic shirts he gets from an online tailor.

“I could go grab some clean ones from my room.”

“The whole point is for them to be used …” Dash gives an impatient click of his tongue and snaps his fingers again, this time under Kate’s nose. “Can you help me with them, please? Disrobe Corbus while I take care of this one.”