Page 105 of Unhinged
Nitro smells like smoke and grease. It’s rough and loud and makes my back go straight without thinking. Definitely alpha.
Arky’s scent is warmer. Kinda like old leather and trees. It feels steadier, like he doesn’t have to try so hard. Still alpha, just... calmer.
Stallion’s got this sharp, spicy thing going on. Clove, maybe? And something else I can’t name. And honestly, a little scary. Like the kind of scent that says don’t mess with me.
Then there’s Suave. And for a second, I totally mess it up. He smells sweet. Warm and golden, like sugar and something soft, like maybe amber? My brain says omega—becauseduh—but no. He’s alpha too. Just… smoother. Too smooth. Dangerous in a whole other kind of way.
He grabs my hand all smooth and shit, like we’re on some Jane Austen set.
“My lady,” he says, and straight-upkissesthe top of my hand.
Arrow lets out a low growl and smacks him upside the head. “Lips off my omega. This is Brydgett. Our Kismet. Our Ol’ Lady.”
“Arrow,” I warn.
“She hasn’t quite accepted the label,” he amends, arm tightening around my waist, “but we’re Kismet. So hands off.”
“Sorry, Arrow.” Suave smirks, no real apology in it.
“Nice to meet you boys. You coming back for the party this weekend?” I ask, giving them a polite smile.
“Sure am,” Nitro says, adjusting his cut. “We’ve been staying off-site with Stallion for a while. But his beta’s pregnant, and the mood swings were getting lethal. So we hit the road.”
“Congrats,” I tell Stallion, who looks like a golden-haired demigod.
“Thanks. Pretty sure our omega’s the one who knocked her up. He’s proud as hell and she’s cranky as sin. Rowdy brothers in the house weren’t cutting it.”
“Well, I’m about to hit the road,” I say, backing up. “But it was nice meeting you all. Maybe we’ll shoot darts or something at the party.”
“Cool. See you then,” Arky says with a lazy nod.
I turn, almost to the door when Arrow’s hand wraps around my arm.
“Gidge,” he says, soft but firm. “You can’t just go off alone. Where are you going?”
I look at him right in the eyes. They’re all dark and cloudy, like one of those storms you can feel in your bones before it even hits. He’s worried, and trying not to show it. All protective and bossy, like usual. It makes me wanna scream and kiss him at the same time.
“I need to talk to Georgia. Alone.”
“Let me take you,” he says instantly. “I’ll wait outside. Please.”
I sigh. “Fine. But you stay outside.”
“Deal.”
“Let’s go, Driving Miss Daisy.”
He grins. “You okay?”
I straddle the back of his bike, hands gripping the seat.
“Yeah,” I say. “Just need a gal to talk to, okay? Leave it.”
His silence stretches. Then?—
“This got anything to do with the plum and sandalwood rolling off you in waves?”
I twist and glare. “Leave it.”
