Chapter 3 When the Alpha Smells Her

POV Kaelen:

What is that intoxicating scent of jasmine?

I set the pen down on my desk and inhale slowly, deliberately, letting the fragrance sink deeper. My wolf stirs beneath my skin, restless, alert. For a brief moment, instinct sharpens every sense—

Then another scent invades my lungs.

Human.

My lip curls in disgust as the two aromas collide. One warm, floral, maddening. The other repulsive and unmistakable.

It has been months since humans last stepped into my bar. I had hoped it would stay that way.

When my pack and I left the kingdom of Symes to live among humans, we chose Sanches for a reason. Close enough to trade, far enough to remain untouched. Zayn—my closest friend and alpha of the Blood Warriors pack—settled his territory in the neighboring city of Leston.

I bought land almost outside Sanches. Built our home there. Built the bar there. Distance is safety.

After witnessing what humans are capable of, I will not risk exposing my pack again.

The past will not repeat itself.

“Fuck.”

I slam my fist against the desk when I hear the human’s animated voice echo from the bar. The calm I had been enjoying evaporates instantly, replaced by irritation and anger.

I stand and head toward the bar. Tharion, Lucien, and Aerin are working tonight. They can deal with this shit.

I refuse to throw drunk humans out again—especially those stupid enough to drink beer brewed for wolves.

The moment I step into the bar, my attention locks onto her.

Lyra.

She is smaller than most humans, but she commands the space around her without trying. Her translucent blue eyes are fixed on me, bright and unsettling. Long red hair spills down her back. Her body curves in ways my mind should not explore—yet immediately does.

I imagine her astride me, riding me while my hands grip her hips.

When my gaze returns to her face, lust flashes unmistakably in her eyes.

The scent of her arousal hits me like a punch.

My wolf snarls, surging forward, eager to claim the female who is clearly reacting to me.

Then the truth crashes down.

Human.

The realization douses me in ice. I force my wolf back, burying him beneath discipline and rage. I tear my gaze away from Lyra and move toward Tharion without giving her another look.

Still, my heart is pounding.

Tharion stands behind the counter, staring at Seraphine—the dark-haired human—when I stop beside him. I curse under my breath. Again. Humans polluting my bar.

Lucien is the first to acknowledge me through our bond.

“Two human females in the bar, Alpha,” Lucien says telepathically.

“I smelled them the moment they crossed the threshold,” I answer coldly.

I do not mention Lyra. I do not mention how hard my cock went at the sight of her.

My pack knows how much I despise humans. After Zander Calla and Morgana Roux, their kind came closest to wiping us out. I remember exactly what they are capable of. Nothing will ever erase that.

“They’re beautiful,” Tharion adds casually. “Human women haven’t stepped foot in this bar in, what—twenty years? I hope they come back.”

My jaw tightens. I glance back toward the women.

Lyra’s blue eyes find mine again.

The reaction in my body is instant and unwelcome. I huff and force my gaze away.

“I’ve decided. I want to try the craft beer. What about you, Lyra?” Seraphine says.

I nearly snarl.

That beer is not for humans.

Lyra lowers her gaze to the menu, and the fury inside me coils tighter. Why does she keep looking at me? As she takes her time choosing, my eyes betray me—tracking the curve of her cheek, the fall of her hair, the delicate shape of her hands.

I imagine those hands wrapped around my swollen cock.

Would they even fit?

What the fuck is wrong with me?

“I’ll have the craft beer too,” Lyra says.

Her voice slides over me like silk. I want to hear it break as she moans my name while I fuck her hard.

Seraphine claps excitedly, snapping me out of the thought. I inhale slowly, brutally, forcing control.

I would never fuck a human.

Especially not Lyra.

“You’ve got to be joking,” Aerin laughs. “A hundred bucks says they spit it out after the first sip.”

I look at Aerin and shake my head. I will not take part in their stupidity.

“Two hundred says the smell alone makes them quit,” Lucien adds.

Tharion glances at me, then back at the women. He stays out of the bet.

“That beer is very strong for huma—” Tharion corrects himself. “For you.”

Lucien elbows him.

“Fuck, Tharion. If you’re not betting, don’t ruin it.”

Lyra’s eyes lift again.

We stare at each other.

Six seconds.

I counted.

I force myself to look away.

“Tharion,” I say sharply. “Give them what they ordered.”

I need distance.

As I walk away, the pressure in my chest grows heavier with every step.

I refuse to examine why.

...

I’m finalizing the order for the next shipment of alcohol—supplied by Zayn’s pack, since we work as vendors—when Draven enters my office.

One look at his expression tells me everything. Either he fucked someone… or he’s about to.

“Alpha,” Draven says. “Permission to fuck a human?”

I stop writing and lift my head slowly.

“I know we shouldn’t touch humans,” he continues, unfazed, “but there’s this woman outside and—fuck—she’s soaked just from me touching her. She smells like cherries. Sweet. I need to know if she tastes as good.”

My hands curl into fists.

Draven has always known exactly how to provoke me.

For a brief, dangerous moment, curiosity sparks. Which one?

I crush it instantly.

I inhale several times before answering. Draven is reckless, immoral, and thinks with his cock—but he is loyal. He has always placed the lives of Tharion, Aerin, Eryx, Lucien, and mine above his own.

“Draven,” I say evenly, “leave this room. Come back in. And we’ll pretend you didn’t ask me something that fucking stupid.”

He doesn’t move.

Instead, he licks his lips and smiles.

“She’s dripping, Kaelen. Soft. Hot. Ready for me.” He snorts. “Oh—right. You probably don’t remember what that’s like.”

The insult doesn’t touch me.

It hits him.

Sex without bond is mechanical. Hollow. Male wolves only experience true pleasure after mating—after frenzy—when their soul mate awakens it.

That happened to Draven.

Years ago, his supposed mate appeared. The frenzy tore through him—and through all of us via the pack bond.

Calina.

A manipulative she-wolf who used dark magic to fake a bond. When she was exposed, the damage was already done. Draven lost something that was never hers to take.

“Draven,” I say quietly. “How long will you keep chasing what only your true mate can give you?”

His expression hardens.

“That pleasure Cal—”

“Don’t say her fucking name,” he snaps, rage flooding our bond. “I’m not wasting eternity believing in fairy-tale happiness.”

“She exists,” I reply firmly. “Kai saw your future. Your happiness. Your pups.”

“I have nothing left to offer,” he mutters. “She’ll be disappointed.”