Page 31 of Power Shift

I nod stiffly, bringing my nose to Briar’s hair and sucking her scent into my lungs.

“Who is she, Ronan? You can tell me that, yeah?”

“Mine,” I grit out between my clenched teeth.

She releases another noise, this time higher in pitch. It causes my knot to swell wider, nearly painful in size.

“Briar.”

It’s muffled in my shirt. I stroke the back of her head, trying to remind myself that Dash is pack.

Realization dawns on me at the same moment he slides toward us. His hiss of breath isn’t as startling as the tensing of Briar’s body against mine. She pulls herself out of my grip enough to blink up at Dash, wonder lighting her eyes.

“Are you . . . You too?” she whispers.

Two words and she’s confirmed what I knew from the moment I saw her. We’re scent matched.

All three of us.

Which means that the odds are . . . Jasper and Landon too.

Fuck.

11

BRIAR

I’m in a dream.That’s the only plausible explanation for what’s happening, and even that isn’t believable.

The alpha holding me hostage in his arms is my scent match. I’m sure of it.

His rich caramel scent is layered with the hint of coffee, slightly bitter, as if I made the mistake of ordering it black instead of with milk. I’ve inhaled it over and over, trying to search through it for the hint of someone else. Another omega, mostly.

My heart pinches at the possibility that he’s not mine for the taking. Or that, similarly to the alpha from the restaurant, he won’t want me once this scent spike dies down.

I furrow my brows and rub my cheek against his palm, breathing in the thick, rich caramel that might as well be running in glistening ribbons down his neck.

The collar of his leather jacket is flipped, creating a boundary between his throat and where I ache to bring my nose. He holds me firmly with a sense of sureness that I pray I’m not making up in my head.

“Ronan?”

Suddenly, I’m plastered to the alpha’s firm chest. The shift has me able to press up on my tiptoes and sneak closer to his throat. I’m still too far to rub against his scent gland, but even just this is better. His scent is stronger here, like a beacon for both me and my omega that makes me glad I always wear scent-cancelling panties. The burst of slick that escapes when that sweet scent swells would have soaked through regular ones.

Ronan grows completely still against me as his chest rattles with a growl, and he snarls at the owner of the new voice.

“Alright, Ro. I’m not going to take her from you,” the man says. “You can trust me.”

With a stiff nod, Ronan leans close, bringing his nose to my hair, and pulls in a long inhale of my scent. I preen at his interest, my worry that he’ll retreat starting to dim.

“Who is she, Ronan? You can tell me that, right?”

“Mine,” he declares, almost ferally.

I can’t help it. It’s not about the ownership of the claim but the pride with which he says it that draws a needy noise up my throat. It brushes his chest as I rub against his shirt and try to keep my eyes from rolling back.

“Briar,” I whisper.

Ronan palms the back of my head and strokes my hair, a rough exhale blowing through it. My stomach flips over and over again as another scent drifts toward us.

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