Page 12 of Knot Your Sunshine
Her eyes… they're violet. Actually violet, like twilight over the Pacific.
So it wasn't a filter after all…
Suddenly, a scent hits me and I have to grip the nearest pillar to steady myself. It's hers. My alpha senses pick it up even from twenty feet away, cutting through every other smell in this crowded airport.
Mango and lavender, exactly like the notes I caught in her hair oil but intensified, richer, completely intoxicating. The breathleaves my lungs in a rush, and I have to fight the urge to rush toward her immediately.
She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and she's definitely our scent match. One hundred percent. No margin of error.
But my triumph shatters when I process the rest of the scene. She's not alone. There's another young omega next to her, an elderly omega… and three alphas. All of them positioned protectively around the group.
My stomach drops to somewhere near my shoes. My hands clench involuntarily, nails biting into my palms. She brought alphas? But my research said nothing about—
Wait. Breathe. Analyze.
I close my eyes and focus, extending my alpha senses. The other young omega's scent... she smells bonded. Her pheromones are thoroughly intertwined with three alpha signatures that match the men accompanying her. They're a pack. Not Mia's pack.
My shoulders drop from where they'd climbed toward my ears. Okay. Crisis averted. She just brought friends for support. Smart, actually.
She's moving closer now, weaving through the crowd, and with each step her scent grows stronger. This time my knees do buckle, and I almost fall. Every cell in my body screams to get closer, to breathe her in, to discover every note and nuance of her scent, to—
Focus, Josh. Keep your self-control.
I take a few seconds to collect myself, stand upright, smooth my shirt, and approach, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I'm sure everyone in a ten-foot radius can hear it.
"Mia Everly?"
She turns from her conversation, and our eyes meet.
The world stops. Actually stops. The airport and crowd fade to background noise. It's just her eyes on mine, her violet irises edged by growing dark centers. Her lips part slightly, and my enhanced alpha sight zeroes in on the pulse fluttering at her throat like a trapped butterfly.
She feels something too. Maybe not the full force of what I'm experiencing, the half-dose of blockers makes sure of that, but there's definitely something flickering in those remarkable eyes.
"Yes?" Her voice is melody and honey and home, and I'm drowning in the single syllable.
"I'm Josh." I manage what I hope passes for a casual smile, though my voice comes out rougher than intended, like I've been gargling gravel. "I'm the assistant my employer sent to escort you."
She blinks, those long lashes fluttering, and I catch the subtle way she leans forward, just an inch, as if trying to catch my scent through the chemical barriers. My omega,ouromega, already trying to find me even though she doesn't know why.
"I apologize on his behalf," I continue, forcing professionalism into my tone even as her gaze makes me feel like I'm free-falling without a parachute. "He was called away on urgent business and won't be able to meet you for a few days."
Disappointment flashes across her features, a tiny downturn of her lips, a dimming in her eyes, and I want to fix it immediately. Want to tell her everything will be perfect, that she's about to meet her pack, that we've been searching for her without her knowing it.
"In the meantime," I press on, shoving my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her, "I've been instructed to take you to the resort and ensure you have everything you desire." I let a small smirk play on my lips. "That offer extends to your friends as well. We can certainly arrange accommodations for everyone."
"Oh!" She brightens slightly. "That's really generous, but—"
One of the alphas steps forward, tall and lean with dark hair that's artfully tousled, wearing an expensive-looking linen shirt. He moves with the kind of casual elegance that speaks of old money and good upbringing.
"That's very generous, but there's no need. I've already booked the Celestial Pack Suite for us, and the Royal Suite for our omega's mother," he says, with an unplaceable lilt that only adds to his charisma.
My eyes widen before I can stop them. The Celestial Pack Suite runs fifteen thousand a night. Minimum three-night stay. "Does that mean... you wouldn't happen to be Mr. Beaumont, would you?"
He nods, a warm smile transforming his aristocratic features from handsome to approachable. "Dorian. A pleasure."
"The honor is all mine, sir." The words tumble out in an embarrassing rush. "Our resort serves Beaumont Pâtisserie exclusively to our guests. I—my boss and I are huge fans. The brown butter croissants? Life-changing."
"Well, I appreciate that." His smile widens, genuine pleasure lighting his eyes. "Our chérie"—he gestures toward the petite omega with obvious affection—"insisted we take a much-needed holiday to accompany her dear friend."
