Page 131 of Citius

Regaining my alignment took longer than I cared to admit, never quite as deep in the zone as the earlier part of the race. Even so, my pace was steady, my feet sure, as Millwright Memorial Stadium came into view. The course circled the stadium’s perimeter, leading to the finish line.

Powering through the final half mile felt glorious. Packed spectator stands lined the home stretch, greeting the runners with rapturous applause. Banners displaying sponsor logos—Redwing, the BelcrestOrganization, and so forth—hung in the air. Near the finish line, an energetic individual wearing a Captain Tusker costume jumped around with wild abandon.

My time could have been better. The twitch in my calf verged on becoming a cramp. But I made it.

I slowed to a brisk walk, accepting a bottle of water and a towel as I tried to ease the tightness in my leg. The crowd of exhausted runners shuffled forward, moving away from the finish line in a sluggish procession.

As I neared the vast white medical tent, a short woman wearing a Northport cap and a neon staff vest labeledPhysicianapproached me, eyes fixed on my irksome calf.

“That could use some ice.” Her voice was clinical, almost detached—and I recognized it at once.

Morgan.

She looked up, eyes widening the merest fraction of an inch behind her sunglasses. At least the surprise was mutual. Her hair was shorter and darker than before, a deeper shade of plum that muted the burgundy undertones.

“Didn’t know you were running today.” She fell in step beside me. “Pain on a scale of one to ten?”

“Mild three,” I replied, waving away her concern. “Nothing that requires assistance. Just need to walk it off.”

“At least eat something. I have it on good authority the bananas and chocolate milk are outstanding.”

I shot her a withering glare. Morgan, unfazed, flashed a brief half-smile and nodded toward an approaching pair of women pushing a double stroller. Identical toddler girls—each wearing a sunhat and tiny sunglasses, gripping a bottle of chocolate milk—kicked their feet and called for Morgan.

“My nieces are snack connoisseurs,” she said with evident affection.

Neither woman resembled the Van Daal siblings I’d encountered thus far, but the taller of the two, wearing a runner’s bib, seemed more likely. Her dark textured curls were cropped short, highlighting the strong planes of her light brown face.

Her mate, by contrast, had a softer, more maternal warmth, with a pink-tipped ponytail and charming eyes.

“Is this him?” the taller woman asked, steering the stroller into my path and giving me a judgmental once-over. “The infamous pheromone stud.”

I stopped short, tweaking my sore calf, and turned to Morgan.Delight radiated out of every sweat-soaked pore. Cal wouldneverlive this down.

The rosy pink of Morgan’s embarrassed flush paired almost too well with her new hair color, a striking contrast to the sharpness in her amber gaze as she glared over the rims of her sunglasses.

“No, Audra, this is Owen Redmond. He’s one of my supervisors—”

“Her neighbor,” I interrupted, extending my hand.

“Audra Van Daal.”

Her grip was firm, matching mine with equal force. A clear indicator of a kindred spirit who had as little patience for nonsense as I did. Her pheromones, a blend of sensible bamboo and subtle cardamom, reinforced my positive first impression. Well worth the scent exchange.

“I’m Holly,” said her mate with a wave, sending a faint cloud of diluted violet in my direction. A beta. “And these are our girls, Liv and Cece. The rest of our pack is around here somewhere.”

“Olivia and Cecilia,” Morgan said under her breath as if apologizing for the childish pet versions of her nieces’ names.

Given the tawny hue of their complexions, Audra was the likelier candidate for biological mother.

Audra’s attention remained fixed on me. “You work for the university?”

“No, Redwing BioTech. Vice president for technology research and development.”

“I see.” Her critical gaze shifted to Morgan, both brows arching up as if demanding an explanation for why she hadn’t heard about me in advance.

Morgan side-stepped the silent question, saying, “Audra’s a pack and family law attorney—”

An ear-splitting squeal from one of the girls made Morgan wince.

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