Page 169 of The Alpha's Pen Pal

Okay. I guess I was pretty ridiculous around her, too.

She set her mug down on the counter and went back to cooking our breakfast. My nose returned to her neck, running up and down the length of it and absorbing her scent with large inhales.

“Why do you do that?” Haven asked as she turned the bacon over.

“Do what?”

“Sniff me so much.”

I chuckled. “Because you smell fantastic,” I said, nuzzling further into her neck.

She laughed and folded in on herself to try to escape me. “I mean, I figured I didn’t stink if you were constantly smelling me. But you mentioned something about your lycan and my scent?”

I placed one more kiss on her neck, took one last inhale, then tucked my chin over her shoulder and squeezed her again. “Scent is an enormous deal for us. In general, but even more so when it comes to our mates. The scent of our mate is strongest to us and can help relax and calm us and our animals.”

She pursed her lips as she kept working on the food. “But you would do it even before you knew we were mates?”

I nodded. “Yes, well, even then, you smelled amazing. And my lycan and I had already decided we wanted you to be our mate, with or without the mate bond. So, me smelling you so frequently worked to calm us and memorize your specific scent. But the night Lennox attacked you, as soon as I smelled you on Sebastian, I knew you were mine in every way,” I explained.

“So what do I smell like?”

“Before, when I didn’t know you were my mate, you smelled like jasmine and something fruity that I could never figure out. The night when I smelled you and recognized you as my mate, I realized it was jasmine and plums.”

Her head snapped to look at me, her brows raised. “You’re joking.”

“Why would I make that up?” I chuckled.

“Plums? Seriously?”

“Seriously!” I replied, laughing even harder.

She shook her head, but a small smile teased on her face as she turned back to the food. “Is that why you smell so good to me, then? Or is that just your cologne?”

“I don’t wear cologne,” I said. “Most shifters don’t. It interferes with our scents and our ability to smell properly.”

“Oh,” she muttered. “Well, you smell fantastic too,” she said.

“What do I smell like?” I asked her, curious to hear her answer, to know how much of my scent she could distinguish.

“Hmm… like… something sweet, smoky, spicy, and woody all at once,” she mused, her brow furrowing as she thought about what she’d said. “Bourbon!” she exclaimed. “You smell like bourbon,” she concluded in triumph, then asked, “Can you grab me some eggs?”

I pulled away from her, regarding her with curiosity, as I walked to the fridge and pulled out the carton of eggs to hand to her. I wasn’t sure how much of the bond a human normally felt or how distinctive our scent would be to one if they were our mate. That would need to be a question I asked Dr. Russo or my dad.

After I handed her the eggs, I picked her backpack up off the floor, and she caught me out of the corner of her eye, her cheeks tinting pink. “Sorry,” she murmured. “It’s just a habit. To have some things ready just—just in case.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear and avoided looking at me.

“I’m not upset,” I said, walking over and touching her shoulder. “I understand why.” She gave me a weak smile and covered my hand with hers. “What do you usually keep in it?” I asked. “And where do you want me to put it?”

“Just in the closet is fine,” she replied. “I keep a change of clothes or two, usually some toiletries and my baby blanket in there,” she told me.

“The one they found you in?” She nodded. “Can—can I see it?” I asked in a quiet, hesitant voice.

“Of course,” she said, turning to look at me with a soft smile.

I smiled back, then unzipped the bag and looked inside. I knew instantly which piece of fabric was the blanket because it was soft and worn and smelled the most like her.

I pulled the purple blanket out of the bag and let it unfurl naturally as my breath caught in my chest.

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