Page 98 of Their Mate
She crouched low near a patch of tangled grass. “Here,” she said, her voice a blade’s edge. She pulled back the brush, and sure enough, there was a vent grate, half-rusted, still sweating warm air. “This runs into the old maintenance corridors. It’s pretty narrow, but it’ll keep us hidden.”
Nox crouched down, his knives gleaming faint in the morning light as he tested the grate. “Bolts are rotted. We can get in quiet, if we’re careful.”
Eamon muttered under his breath, “Quiet isn’t Griff’s specialty.”
I snorted.
We worked in silence, easing the grate up and off. The air that rolled out was warm and stale, tinged with antiseptic and steel, but there was something else in it too and it made the back of my throat ache and itch.
It was her. And she was in heat. What the fuck?
Sera’s scent was faint at first, just a thread on the air, but enough to make my wolf sit straight up inside me. I swallowed hard and tried to ignore it.
Focus on the mission. That was the plan.
The vent swallowed us one at a time as we crawled belly-first through the shaft. The metal groaned under our weight, every scrape seeming loud in the silence. I pulled myself along behind Bishop, the mystery woman moving ahead of him with the kind of fluid ease that made me wonder just how many times she’d done this before.
The air grew thicker the deeper we went. That faint thread of Sera’s scent grew stronger, until it was in my lungs, my blood, and my head. Heat and spice, the kind that hit the back of your tongue and made your pulse hammer.
I gritted my teeth.Not now. Not here.
Griff’s voice whispered back from up ahead. “You smell that?”
Nox’s laugh was low and dangerous. “Oh, we smell it.”
Bishop’s shoulders tightened as he crawled. “Stay focused.”
But it was getting harder. My nails bit into the metal, scraping as I pulled myself forward. My breath had gone ragged. The vent stank of rust and dust, but all I could smell was her. All I couldfeelwas her, like she was pressed against my skin even though she was still locked gods-knew-where inside this cursed rock.
We dropped into a maintenance gallery, narrow catwalks stretched over pipes and cable guts. The air was warmer here, and heavy with her scent. My chest felt too tight.
“She’s close,” I muttered, voice rough.
The others turned, eyes flashing in the gloom.
“Buchanan,” Bishop said, a clear warning in his tone. “Keep your head.”
“I am,” I snapped, though we all knew it was a lie. My wolf prowled under my skin, restless, hungry, and ready to tear steel apart just to reach her.
The woman stepped close, her eyes pale and unflinching. “Jamie. Look at me.”
I did, and for a heartbeat, the haze cleared. Then the scent hit me again, harder, and I staggered, hand against the wall.
“Shit,” I hissed, dragging air into my lungs. “It’s too strong. Mymate.”
“You’re losing control,” Bishop said.
“I’m not—” I started, but the growl in my voice betrayed me. My claws were sliding free without me even willing it, scraping sparks from the railing.
The woman sighed like I was a child who’d disappointed her. “I was afraid something like this would happen.”
I blinked at her, confused, then felt a sting in my arse.
“Ow! Bloodyhell!” I yelped, hand flying back. My fingers brushed a dart jutting out of my backside. “What the fuck?”
Griff’s laugh echoed off the walls, bright and booming. “She darted you in the arse, mate!”
Nox actually grinned with satisfaction. “Perfect shot.”
