Page 11 of Welcome to Bone Town

There’s no scent lingering in the tent. I pick up a shirt discarded over the back of the lone chair and bring it to my nose. Nope.

Like a dart to a bullseye, I step closer, bend down, and sniff. Scent blockers only last about twenty-four hours, less in the heat, and I’ve got a good nose, better than most.

She smells like… something. It’s too subtle. I can’t make it out. Moving closer, I hover my nose above her neck where her scent gland lies.

The world tilts on its axis, and I’m suddenly drunk. Elderflower and rose hips with a touch of something citrus. Light and fresh, slightly botanical. Delicious. I want to drink her down and never stop. I’ve been thirsty my whole life and didn’t even realize it. “Fuuuuck.”

She stirs.

I don’t want to leave. This is my mate. My scent match. I suspected when I first saw her, and now it’s more than confirmed. She’s mine.

I could stay. She’ll know the second she scents me, and she’ll want me, too. Right?

That niggle of doubt drives me to take a step back.

It’s not time yet. I’ve got work to do before I’m ready for her. Right now, I need to get out of here. But every step away feels like torture.

I’ll come back soon. I have to.

11

“It’s a mass grave,” Dr. Slate says. “Or a battle site.”

We’ve been having this discussion for a week. At first, I was willing to consider his hypothesis, but the more we uncover, the more certain I am that it’s wrong.

Now, standing at the edge of the dig, surveying the bones, I take in the little flags marking each discovery. There’s some pottery and other artifacts, but mostly it’s just bones. The bones of sixteen people so far.

“It’s not a grave,” I argue, more sure than ever. “They aren’t laid out like a graveyard, and they aren’t thrown together like someone dumped them here. They’re clustered in groupings and in positions...” My cheeks heat.

Dr. Slate narrows his gaze on me. “What about their positions?”

“They’re… extremely…intimate. These people died during…” Goddess, is he really going to make me say it? I’m no virgin, but talking about sex with colleagues has my ears burning with embarrassment.

“Are you implying they died during sex, Dr. Whitlock?” His brow scrunches down as his gaze returns to the site.

After a fortifying breath, I reply. “Yes.”

I can almost see the wheels turning in his mind. Of course, an alpha would assume violence first and struggle to rethink his hypothesis. But I’m not an alpha, and I know what this is. It’s not a mass grave, it’s a mass orgy.

How it killed them is just as much a mystery to me as to Roman, but what they were doing when they died is clear.

And it’s confirming all of my suspicions and buoying my hopes.

There are myths and stories about the goddess Lunara’s festivals that would fit very well with the scene in front of us. The few artifacts we’ve recovered that aren’t bones have all been dishes painted with the omega symbol. I’m growing more and more certain that her temple is here. I just need to find it.

Hopefully, alone first.

I’ve never been religious or superstitious even though the stories of Lunara have always held a pull for me. But what I’m most concerned with isn’t the goddess herself, but her most legendary relic. No one knows exactly what it was, but it’s said to have mystical abilities that could throw an omega into heat.Any omega.

Magic? Probably not. But could the relic have scientific properties that might do those things? That I might believe.

Or at least believe enough to want to try it before the Ekdoti government gets their hands on it.

Archer strolls over, joining us on the slope. He’s holding a bagel and a coffee from the mess tent. I’m surprised Bear’s not with him. The two of them have shared nearly every meal together lately and seem to have really hit it off.

“Did you tell Dr. Slate your theory?” Archer asks.

“He doesn’t believe me.”

---