Page 20 of Fragile Heart

Holyfuckinghell.

There’s absolutely no way that this is happening right now.

Scent matches have only been confirmed to exist for a couple years. A brilliant Omega in California has spent the last half a decade studying them.

You can’t open any news from the Council without seeing Violet Montegue’s face somewhere in the first few pages. When her first round of research was published, it sent waves through the entire world. Literal proof of soulmates, the perfect pairings between Alphas and Omegas. Within weeks, the Council had put out a statement regarding their matching process and the ways in which they’d be integrating the newly-discovered markers for recognizing your match.

For Alphas, it’s intense protection and possessiveness, even worse than when they drop into rut due to an Omega’s heat. Nothing matters but that perfume, that Omega.

Fuck me sideways that mine just happens to be in my mother’s coffee shop. Ethan is going to fuckingloseit when I tell him. He was ready to fight me over fucking a random woman in Jackson that I haven’t talked to since—and it’s not like she’s been banging on my metaphorical door begging for a second round.

When I tell him I’ve found my scent match?

The growl builds in my throat before I realize it’s there, and Mom hesitates beside me. I swallow the sound, breathing carefully through my nose, trying to forget the lavender smell.

“What has you so up in a mess all of a sudden?” Mom says, slipping into the seat across from me again, sliding the refilled mug in front of me.

My knuckles whiten around the mug, and Mom purses her lips.

“You were fine just a minute ago,” she says.

I stretch my neck again and take a long drink from the mug, focusing on the main road just outside the window, not trusting myself just yet.

The coffee’s still too hot, but I don’t flinch. Mom’s coffees are the best in the state. Certainly leagues better than the instant crap we get while on a fire. Pilots may get better than the fighters on the ground, but that doesn’t make it much more than midnight gas station shit.

I catch sight of the woman, her brown hair grabbing my attention as she settles into a Land Rover with Colorado license plates. As she adjusts, the blue ink of a tattoo flashes in the mid-morning sunlight. A butterfly maybe? Or it could be a flower of some kind.

The desire to trace it with my tongue, to see how low it goes along her neck, rides me hard, and it’s impossible to stop my scent from flooding the room. I take another drink and close my eyes, counting to ten.

Mom sighs. “I promised myself when you and your brother designated within three months of each other that I wasn’t going to put myself in a situation where it’s my sanity or your anger.”

“I’m not angry,” I say, my voice breathless. At least it’s not a growl.

Mom’s a Beta, just like Dad. The more subtle changes to a person’s scent, the ones that give away their arousal and anger and even an Omega’s heat, are lost on Betas. It’s part of what makes them Betas, part of what lets them stay stable when an Alpha is ready to drop into a possessive rage.

When I focus on Mom again, her lips are pursed, and she has her chin resting on her palm. “All right. Then I probably especially don’t want to know what has you scenting so strongly right now.”

“Who was that woman? I haven’t seen her before,” I say.

“Brielle? Oh, she’s Melissa’s friend from college.” Mom raises an eyebrow. “She moved out here end of last month. So… a week and a half? Almost two weeks, actually. She’s staying in Emily’s guest house until the tourist season dies down and the housing options open up a bit more.”

I raise an eyebrow. “The widow?”

“Yes,” Mom says slowly, mirroring my own look. “Her husband died in a car wreck over New Year’s Day.”

Fuck. Me.

The desire to comfort her, wrap her in my arms and block her from the harsh realities of the world, is strong enough it robs me of any response to Mom.

Wait. Did she say husband?

“Husband?” I ask.

Mom nods. “She’d been married for six years, almost seven.”

Omegas don’t marry Alphas. Omegas onlymarryBetas. Even unbonded Omegas with Alphas are viewed differently under the laws, though some have weddings, too. But a bona fide marriage license? That doesn’t happen between Alphas and Omegas.

What had made her end up with only a Beta?

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