Page 47 of Fragile Heart

My growl grows louder, more violent.

Brielle pulls away from Caleb and looks at me. Her face pales, and then she ducks her head and practically runs to the front door, the small plate held in a white-knuckled grip. Caleb growls, low and dangerous. It bounces off the walls of the room. The possessive reaction stokes my rage until it’s a burning inferno in my chest. The door closes just shy of a slam.

“What the fuck was that about?” Caleb asks, the growl still a dangerous vibration in his chest.

I ignore his question and cross my arms, turning so I’m not tempted to watch Brielle’s retreat from our house.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” My voice rumbles through the room. Caleb runs a hand down his face, clearly trying to keep his own reaction in check. “It’s not enough to come home smelling like her? Now you need to get Camden attached to her? How the hell are we going to explain this to him in another month when you two fizzle out because you get called to a fire for longer than a week?”

“We’re not going to fizzle out,” he says, the words surprisingly restrained given the rage blazing in his eyes.

“Please,” I scoff. “You haven’t done more than fuck a random Beta since Kayla died.”

He takes a step toward me, his hands clenched tight, the veins on his forearms standing out from the strain of it.

“Because you’ve made it abundantly clear you aren’t ready for anything more. Did you ever think I’ve been keeping everything to the fucking shadows because you made it clear just last month that you aren’t ready to move on?”

“I’mnot,” I growl.

“Then don’t move on, but do not imply that this thing I have with Brielle is going to fizzle out, Ethan.”

“Then stop lying to yourself about it at least,” I say, practically yelling. “She’s the new meat in town. You’re not even the first one to pursue her since she showed up. You know that? You’re probably the fourth man she’s fucked here.”

The thought slashes across my chest, but I ignore it, clinging to the rage instead. I ignore the possessive flavor of it, though. I haven’t had her for a literal decade. I don’t need her now.

“She hasn’t.” Caleb shakes his head. “And you better watch your fucking mouth. You’ve never once called a woman a whore, and I won’t let you start with her.”

His voice gains a lethal edge to it, something I haven’t heard since Kayla first moved in with us and Alex Dean gave her a hard time. It draws me up short.

“She hasn’t been with anyone since her husband, not aside from me,” he says. He takes a step closer to me and then another, putting a single hand on my sternum, shoving his index finger into the bone. “I will say this once and only once. She is not the type of woman to hop from bed to bed.” He scowls. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that if that’s the dynamic that’s been established, and you fucking know it.”

I clench my jaw hard enough a muscle flexes in my cheek.

“And I know it won’t fizzle out because she’s my goddamn scent match.”

The words are a slap across the face, stunning me. I stumble a half-step back.

“What?” I ask, my voice just as shell-shocked as the rest of me.

“It’s lavender. Her scent.”

Yeah, I already know that. Did I not just mention that he smells like her all the fucking time? Not that I need him toremember the way her scent feels. I can still smell it in my dreams. And sometimes in the shower when I succumb to the need and fuck my hand while pretending it’s her warm heat instead.

He pulls out an envelope from the back pocket of his jeans and shoves it against my chest. I grab it on instinct.

His voice is cooler now, the heat of his rage gone. “And she’s my match.”

He drops his hand and pushes past me, right out the front door and onto the front porch. I twist, staring at him as he closes the distance between him and Brielle where she sits on the edge of the porch with Camden. She bites her lip as he settles beside her, her eyebrows furrowed and her shoulders rolled in. A small smile graces her lips as he intertwines their fingers, and some of the tension in her body falls away.

I drop my eyes. The envelope’s already been opened. I slip the single piece of paper out, my stomach dropping as I realize it’s an official notice from the Council. I read the words, trying to make them change, reorder themselves.

Holy hell, he’s even done the bloodwork to confirm it. They’re matches. Literal soulmates. I drop the paper and practically run to the garage, intent on getting to Cottonwood before I can say something I won’t be able to take back. Camden waves from where he’s playing on the porch, a wildflower in one fisted hand and a piece of chalk in the other. Brielle doesn’t look up as I drive past them, but Caleb’s eyes are cold and calculating, the rage still simmering just under the surface.

Scent matches.

God help me.

CALEB

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