Page 14 of Malibu Heat

“You’ve never perfumed before?” I ask.

She shakes her head.

“Have you ever been with an alpha?”

“I’ve been with alphas, but I’ve never been knotted.” Her cheeks go pink, which I think is adorable, and excitement brews in my chest.

I get to be her first knot; plus, if she’s perfuming this late, her heat is going to hit her with a vengeance.

I get to help her through her first heat.

My alpha instincts roar in my chest, begging me to drag her to the nearest bedroom and rut her until I’m completely spent, but I refrain. There’s something more important I have to address first, easily the most important thing I’ve ever discussed in my entire life.

“I have an idea why you’ve perfumed all of a sudden,” I say, but I hesitate, unsure of how to proceed.

Scent matches are so rare, I’m still doubting whether or not what I’m feeling is real. Could I actually have stumbled across something so many people go their whole lives waiting for? Or is the absurdity of the situation skewing my judgment?

No.My alpha instincts flare, rejecting that thought entirely. I have to be thinking straight–the alcohol wore off a long time ago–and it’s obvious what’s staring me in the face.

“We’re a scent match, Bailey,” I say, feeling numb.

BAILEY

I stall, his words taking way longer than necessary to sink in. I want to laugh at the absurdity–there’s no way this random hot guy I met on the beach is my scent match.

I shouldn’t even have a scent match.I’ve been a beta my entire life, for crying out loud.

If I’d known I was an omega, my life would have looked very different. I would have gone to the Mackay Institute, the best academy for omegas in California, for omega training. I wouldn’t have gone to the beta university I got my degrees from.

If I’d perfumed when I was supposed to, I might belong to a pack of alphas by now. I would have been claimed, losing my ability to scent match with Ken altogether.

I squeeze my eyes closed as the thoughts pour through my mind, crashing down on me and making my chest tight.

This is impossible. Completely impossible.I must be dreaming.

“Tell me you feel it too,” Ken says, his voice slicing through the icy anxiety slithering its way through me.

I open my eyes to meet his gaze, and for a long moment, neither of us moves. I fight the urge to burst into a fit of laughter, but then a hazy realization dawns on me.

I might not know what a scent match feels like, but Ken’s tangy sweet coconut and lime scent has been driving me crazy since I first smelled him. I wanted it to consume me, smother me, but it also already feels like a part of me. It’s almost like if it suddenly disappears, something essential will be missing from my life.

If Ken suddenly disappears, a piece of me will be missing.

His scent is stronger now in the close proximity of my living room, permeating the air and wrapping its tendrils around me, dragging me toward him.

Could he be?

Surely not…

“A scent match?” I repeat out loud, barely aware of my own voice.

Scent matches are rare–incredibly rare–but not impossible.More possible than me awakening after thinking I was a beta my entire life.

The more I consider it, the more plausible it seems, but all of this still feels like a dream. I bite the inside of my cheek for good measure, and it aches, but nothing changes. I bite harder, the faint metallic taste of blood hitting my tongue, and my heart lurches in my chest.

I’m not dreaming.

All of this, including Ken, is very real, and I suddenly feel lightheaded. More than lightheaded–I feel warm, like I’m having a hot flash. I need to sit down.

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