Page 93 of Citius

Alijah

Coconut was, without question, one of the worst smells in the world—worse, even, than Wyatt’s decomposing boxwood stench. Sickly sweet and cloying, it drowned out everything else, like a bad hangover from the cheap tropical drinks I’d regretted after college bar nights.

After a disastrous workday, humiliating myself in front of Morgan and submitting my photos at the absolute last second, all I wanted was to retreat upstairs and bury myself in Joaquin’s embrace. But, of course, the day wasn’t done punishing me.

No, it had one more trial in store: an elevator reeking of coconut.

Cal held the door open with a portable medical bag in hand. Owen observed my hesitation with unnerving interest. Summoning a deep, bracing breath, I stepped inside, wedging myself in the back corner where a faint hint of mint managed to fend off the worst of the stink.

Kelsey must have passed through recently. Best neighbor ever.

When the doors opened on the sixth floor, another suffocating cloud of coconut awaited me. Had I not suffered enough?

I hurried past the alphas, desperate for Joaquin. He opened the front door just as I reached for the handle, and relief propelled me into his embrace. His long arms wrapped around me, rocking us back and forth as I pressed my face against his throat, drinking in the grounding heat of his peppery scent.

Joaquin slid a hand inside my jacket, his thumb pressing into my bond mark through the fabric of my shirt—a simple move that magicallycalmed the storm in my chest.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, guiding me inside with a steady hand on my hip.

“Everything. Work, the weather, me. All the damn coconut. I hate it so much.” I let my forehead fall against his shoulder, defeated. “Did you get udon? Please tell me that you got udon. Not that it’d ruin my day if you didn’t—it honestly can’t get any worse—but I could really go for some stir-fried squid right now.”

Joaquin silently asked Owen to fill in the blanks with a questioning look.

Owen was less than forthcoming, as per usual. “It seemed wise to carpool.”

Our pack leader slipped off his coat to reveal a white button-down that still looked as fresh as it did this morning. How did he look ready for business while I felt like a waterlogged mutt dragged from a dumpster?

He settled in the new leather armchair. It was a fantastic deal Joaquin had snagged through his theatre connections. We kept it strategically angled to hide a damaged section of upholstery. Owen pulled out his phone and began replying to emails.

“There’s a strong coconut pheromone signature in the elevator and hall right now,” Cal added helpfully. At least he had the decency to look human as he plopped down on the couch, his hat hair sticking out in tufts and his pants wet around the ankles. “Doesn’t seem to be a crowd favorite.”

“I see.” Joaquin didn’t bother to stifle the amused glint in his eyes as he helped me out of my coat. He’d heard me gripe about coconut and goat cheese enough times to last the rest of his life.

“Udon?” I asked, verging on a whine.

“Yes, I got you the spicy seafood one with extra squid. And guess who I saw when I picked it up?” He rubbed my hands between his toasty palms, the affectionate gesture chasing away the lingering stiffness in my limbs. “Your favorite doctor. Met her siblings, too. Did you know…”

A flicker of confusion crossed his face, quickly replaced by something flintier. More suspicious.

“Wait, what’s the neighbor girl’s name again?”

“Kelsey,” Wyatt said as he descended the stairs, hands shoved in the pockets of his gym shorts. He stopped at the last step and gave me an apologetic wince. “If you don’t like coconut, you might want to rethink the housewarming guest list.”

A thread of panic coiled around my spine. “Why?”

“Because Piper Van Daal’s pheromone signature is coconut,” Joaquin said, applying steady pressure to my bond mark. “And she has a sister named Kelsey. Met her tonight.”

“But—but…” My mind raced.Morganwas Piper’s sister. If Piper hadanothersister named Kelsey—the same Kelsey who lived across the hall… No, that couldn’t be right. It had to be a coincidence. Ithadto be.

Joaquin turned to Wyatt, unleashing a venomous sneer. “Always knew you were a sneaky little fucker.”

“What the hell?” Wyatt balked, leaking whiffs of sour sap.

“Careful.” Owen looked up from his phone and shot a warning glance at Joaquin.

“Fuck that,” Joaquin drawled with a wicked laugh, steering me into the living room. He dropped onto the sofa, tugging my sleeve until I followed, and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “Time to come clean, Wyatt.”

“There’s no need to make it sound like a conspiracy,” Cal said in his usual deep, steady tone—trying to diffuse a situation I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Unfortunately, he only succeeded in provoking Joaquin further.

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