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“ I t’s a mass grave,” Dr. Slate says. “Or a battle site.”

We’ve been having this discussion for a week. At first, I was willing to consider his hypothesis, but the more we uncover, the more certain I am that it’s wrong.

Now, standing at the edge of the dig, surveying the bones, I take in the little flags marking each discovery. There’s some pottery and other artifacts, but mostly it’s just bones. The bones of sixteen people so far.

“It’s not a grave,” I argue, more sure than ever. “They aren’t laid out like a graveyard, and they aren’t thrown together like someone dumped them here. They’re clustered in groupings and in positions...” My cheeks heat.

Dr. Slate narrows his gaze on me. “What about their positions?”

“They’re… extremely… intimate . These people died during…” Goddess, is he really going to make me say it? I’ m no virgin, but talking about sex with colleagues has my ears burning with embarrassment.

“Are you implying they died during sex, Dr. Whitlock?” His brow scrunches down as his gaze returns to the site.

After a fortifying breath, I reply. “Yes.”

I can almost see the wheels turning in his mind. Of course, an alpha would assume violence first and struggle to rethink his hypothesis. But I’m not an alpha, and I know what this is. It’s not a mass grave, it’s a mass orgy.

How it killed them is just as much a mystery to me as to Roman, but what they were doing when they died is clear.

And it’s confirming all of my suspicions and buoying my hopes.

There are myths and stories about the goddess Lunara’s festivals that would fit very well with the scene in front of us. The few artifacts we’ve recovered that aren’t bones have all been dishes painted with the omega symbol. I’m growing more and more certain that her temple is here. I just need to find it.

Hopefully, alone first.

I’ve never been religious or superstitious even though the stories of Lunara have always held a pull for me. But what I’m most concerned with isn’t the goddess herself, but her most legendary relic. No one knows exactly what it was, but it’s said to have mystical abilities that could throw an omega into heat. Any omega.

Magic? Probably not. But could the relic have scientific properties that might do those things? That I might believe .

Or at least believe enough to want to try it before the Ekdoti government gets their hands on it.

Archer strolls over, joining us on the slope. He’s holding a bagel and a coffee from the mess tent. I’m surprised Bear’s not with him. The two of them have shared nearly every meal together lately and seem to have really hit it off.

“Did you tell Dr. Slate your theory?” Archer asks.

“He doesn’t believe me.”

“I didn’t say that. It’s actually a… good hypothesis,” Roman says, surprising me. “We need to find more before I’ll fully subscribe to it, but it’s… good.” He repeats the word like it pains him.

I can’t help the little thrum of satisfaction that fills my chest.

Bear joins us, immediately reaching for Archer’s coffee like sharing is the most natural thing in the world. By Archer’s surprised expression, it’s clear sharing a coffee is a new development in their quickly growing friendship. But it doesn’t surprise me all that much. Bear seems like the kind of guy who’s overly affectionate and likes sharing. He picked some grapes off my plate when we were chatting yesterday. Though, admittedly, sharing someone’s drink is a bit more personal.

The second Bear takes a sip, he makes a disgusted face and spits in the sand. “What the hell is that?”

Archer kicks the wet sand with his toe. “Cold milk and a blended raw egg.”

“Shit.” Bear makes a face, dragging his tongue along his top teeth. “If I get sick ‘cause of that egg, I’m takin’ it out on you. ”

“There’s only a 0.005% chance of getting salmonella from a raw egg. You’re more likely to get hit by lightning,” Archer says.

“It could still happen. And I’d still punish you if it did.”

“How exactly would you punish me?” Archer says, a shy, but playful lilt to his voice.

The thought of what Bear could do to punish Archer has a hot flash much stronger than the desert heat warming my whole body. I fan my face. A perfectly normal gesture in this weather.

“Any luck on the radar?” Roman asks, cutting through the sexual tension.

Bear shakes his head. The ground-penetrating radar machine disappeared two days after we arrived, before we could get any images.

“There is something I want to talk to you all about, though.” Bear glances around like maybe he doesn’t want to be overheard, then jerks his head in the direction of the forensics tent. “Let’s go in there.”

Curious what he could have to say, I don’t hesitate before trailing behind him. Neither does Archer, who walks just a few steps in front of me. He must not realize I’m so close, because when I duck through the flap on the tent, I run into him, stumbling back a step before regaining my balance. The shy scientist is hiding some serious muscle under his clothing—he didn’t even budge.

I step around him to see what made him stop in his tracks. Bear is standing in the middle of the tent, holding a knife.

“What the hell?” Roman says, pushing forward and placing himself between me and the alpha who’s supposed to be here to protect us.

“Oh, sorry. No, I found this. Last night, while doing patrol, I spotted this knife near Dr. Whitlock’s tent.”

A chill slithers down my spine. “It’s not mine.”

“I figured,” Bear says. “You don’t seem like the type to break rules.”

There are no weapons allowed on the dig site, apart from the ones the security detail carries, but I would never own a knife like that even if there wasn’t a no-weapons rule. It’s not a little pocket knife or steak knife or the kind of thing you’d use for camping—not that I’ve ever been. This is a knife that could do some real damage. The sun glints off the sharp metal like it agrees.

“I already spoke with all my guys, and it’s not any of theirs.” Bear flips the knife around with ease and tucks it into the belt at his waist. “Is it yours?” His piercing gaze lands on Roman.

“Of course not!” Roman scowls.

Bear takes in the archeologist for a long beat before he seems satisfied and turns a softer, questioning look on Archer, who holds his hands up, palms out, and shakes his head. “Not mine.”

“Hm, yeah, didn’t think so.” Bear runs a hand over his neatly trimmed beard. “One of my guys said he saw someone sneaking around a few nights back. Thought it was someone on the crew, but when he approached to try to find out, they were gone.”

“You think someone’s after the artifacts?” Archer asks.

“Not sure, but I spoke to my boss and they’re gonna let me hire a few more guys and buy some lock boxes. Anything you find that’s particularly precious, keep it under lock and key.” He flicks a glance at Roman and me before resting his gaze on Archer. “And no one should be wandering around after sundown. Especially not alone.”

“I like working at night,” Archer says, frowning.

“Tell me when you’re gonna be up late.” Bear’s smile is almost cocky, and I think he might actually wink, though with his face partially turned away from me, it’s hard to be sure.

I suddenly feel like an interloper, one more invested in the look they’re giving each other than I should be. A startlingly hot image of the two of them kissing pops into my mind. They would be so pretty together. My skin tingles with that familiar ache. The one I know there’s no release from. If only my stupid body would have a heat and get it out of my system.

Frustrated, I take a step back.

Roman clears his throat. “Where exactly did you find the knife?”

“On the east side of Dr. Whitlock’s tent.”

“Have your guys move her tent closer to mine and Archer’s,” he says through gritted teeth, shoulders riding up with tension.

“What? That’s entirely unnecessary.” Deep down, I actually appreciate the concern, but acts of kindness don’t come without a cost from people like Roman Slate. And I’m not sure I want to pay that bill when it’s due.

“You’re an unbonded omega,” he snarls. “The only one on this dig. You’re defenseless and a knife was found by your tent. ”

“How do you know I’m defenseless?” Okay. Now I’m mad.

He raises his eyebrows. Before I can overthink it, I sweep his legs out from under him, just like I learned to in the self-defense class I took last year. Or rather, I try to. I make him stumble, but he catches himself right away, and the force rebounds on me. I lose my footing and fall on my ass.

He glares down at me with his arms crossed like he proved his point. Bear growls, and Archer takes my elbow and helps me up.

“Are you alright?” Archer asks.

Bear steps up to Roman so they're nearly chest-to-chest. “Hurt an omega—hell, hurt anyone—on my watch again and?—”

“ She attacked me ,” Roman says, voice level and calm.

The two men are of equal height, but that's where the similarities end. Where Roman is all lean muscle and sharp lines, Bear is wider with a barrel chest I’m not sure I could wrap my arms fully around. Though, even without the thick cords of muscle Roman is sporting, you can tell that Bear is incredibly strong. Farm-boy strong my roommate used to call it. A man who could lift you up with one hand and carry a bale of hay in the other without breaking a sweat.

“I’m fine,” I say, eager to get them both to back down. For a moment, Roman’s gaze flicks to mine and something like regret pinches his features, but it’s gone in a flash.

“Have her things moved,” he says, throwing back the tent flap and stomping out.