Page 8 of Citius

“I know what I said.” Alijah shushed the other man, failing to inject the words with any semblance of bite. “Let’s go get lunch.”

“I was right. They’re sisters,” the alpha said, unduly smug and content to stay put.

“Youaskedher—why would you ask her?” Mortification radiated from every inch of Alijah as he tried, but failed, to meet my gaze. “I’m sorry, Morgan. He works at the ballet and got me tickets for the closing night ofA Midsummer Night’s Dream, and I thought Piper was you at first. Which is stupid because you’re a gymnast—”

Panic undermined his expression. Alijah was clearly afraid he’d stepped on a landmine.

He had nothing to worry about. Gymnastics was a painful memory, a loathsome scar I’d adapted to living with, but it was my problem. It was frankly nice that people still remembered my legacy.

Reassured by my calm demeanor, Alijah continued with a stuttering start. “I-it’s just that you really, really look alike. Watching her onstagewas like seeing double, but not quite. Like looking at you with a squint.”

“It’s okay,” I said, interrupting his well-intentioned chatter. “But I must admit, I’ve never heard our resemblance put quite that way before.”

Piper and I shared the same biological alpha father, Pops. We’d inherited his dark hair, angular facial features, and natural athleticism. However, Piper was a beta, giving her a few extra inches of height and a slimmer build, with lithe muscles befitting a ballet dancer.

“She was amazing as Titania—amazing,” Alijah continued, a touch breathlessly. “I can see why they made her a principal this season. She’s super good.”

“Yeah, she earned it. Even I’m not tough enough for ballet.” I turned to the lounging alpha. “And what do you do?”

“Joaquin Toledano, lighting designer, at your service.” His Cheshire Cat grin showed a few too many teeth.

“AndJoaquinwill be leaving now.” Alijah insistently tugged on the alpha’s wrist, his smile faltering with each new pull. I had never seen him so flustered. “Sorry—again—about him. Oh, and I won’t be at the game tomorrow. We have pack stuff this weekend, but don’t worry! I reminded my guys to include PheroPass on the hit list for photos.”

Joaquin half-slid, half-poured himself off the sofa and back onto his feet. The knowledge that he was tall was one thing—but the heady experience of his entire long, toned body invading my personal space was quite another. Not as tall as Cal Carling, but tall enough to inspire a rare tingle of submissive instincts in my hindbrain.

Joaquin gave Alijah a light swat on the hip. “Introduce me properly.”

“You already did it yourself.”

“I don’t mean my name, babe.”

“Then what—? Oh!” Alijah’s confusion bloomed into joyful realization, eyes sparkling like black diamonds. He pressed himself against Joaquin’s side and wrapped an arm around his waist. “Joaquin’s my alpha. We bonded a few months ago. Still getting used to it.”

I was unaware that Alijah had a mate. At least, I don’t think anyone had ever mentioned it before, and it didn’t seem like Alijah expected me to already know.

Joaquin looked a few years older than me, maybe thirty-five. A decade wasn’t a huge age gap between partners, but that didn’t mean it was negligible. Especially when clean-cut, business casual, Alijah looked like an overly innocent boy scout compared to his mate.

Joaquin hooked a tattooed finger in the collar of Alijah’s polo shirt and pulled, revealing an expanse of smooth skin and part of an intricate fern leaf tattoo. The tattooed frond curled up at the end, framing anelliptical bite on the left collarbone.

Alijah’s bond mark.

While Alijah was busy batting Joaquin’s hand away and fixing his collar, Joaquin returned his direct attention to me, looking ever so proud of his handiwork. A languid smile revealed a single dimple on his left cheek.

Heat touched the tips of my ears. This entire encounter was very much in the weeds.

“Well, it’s a little late, but congratulations on your mating.” I stepped back, needing distance between me and their amorous vibes. “And good luck with your pack business.”

“Thanks,” Alijah said with a touch of forced optimism. “We’re going to need it.”

Joaquin voiced his agreement with a raspy chuckle.

Must be some serious pack business.

“See you next week.” Alijah pulled Joaquin toward the door. “Go Narwhals!”

Joaquin trailed behind Alijah, content to move at his own pace even as he intertwined their fingers. He looked over his shoulder and gave me a blasé, two-fingered salute in parting. “Pleasure’s been all mine, doc.”

Was it too soon for more ibuprofen?

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