Page 24 of Do You Even Hex, Bro?
Then it hits me.
A scent.
And not just any scent.
I freeze, coffee halfway to my lips, nostrils flaring to pull in more of it. Ancient forest after rainfall. Lightning-struck oak. Green smoke and emerald fire. Underneath that, something else. Fear and exhaustion and raw, wild power barely contained.
My wolf slams against my consciousness, suddenly alert, desperate.
Mine, it growls.Find. Protect. Claim.
"Kill? You good?" Sean's voice sounds like it's coming through water.
I don't answer. Can't. I'm already moving, drawn toward the darkest corner booth where the scent originates. All I can see is a small hooded figure hunched over a coffee mug. Face obscured, body rigid.
Female. Witch.
But not like any witch I've ever encountered.
Humans smell like food or flowers or sweat. Witches usually smell like whatever element they manipulate—earthy or airy or smoky. But she smells like... like the world itself. Like magic in its purest form.
My mouth goes dry. My heart hammers against my ribs like it's trying to escape my chest. I've never felt anything like this before. This immediate, visceralpull.
"Micah," I call without looking back. "Get over here." My voice comes out rough, guttural.
She tenses at the sound, still not looking up. Her knuckles whiten around her mug. She knows I'm coming for her, and she's afraid.
Good instincts. But unnecessary.
I'm five steps away when she suddenly bolts from the booth, keeping her hood low. She's fast, slipping between tables toward the back of the café.
Toward the bathrooms.
"Shit," I mutter, changing course to intercept her.
Micah appears at my side, confusion evident on his face. "What the hell, Kill? I was making progress with?—"
Then he catches the scent too. His eyes widen, pupils dilating. "Holy fuck. Is that?—"
"Yes." No need to explain. No words are adequate, anyway. This is all instinct. "Get the others. Can't let her leave."
He nods, immediately turning to signal Sean and Rowan. Meanwhile, I pursue the hooded figure, keeping my pace deliberately casual. No need to cause a scene. The last thing we need is campus security getting involved.
She's heading straight for the women's restroom, clearly planning to hide or escape. I reach the door just as it slamsshut. I hear the lock click. From inside comes rapid, panicked breathing through the door.
Our fated mate is having a panic attack and we haven't even gotten to introduce ourselves yet.
So much for making a good first impression.
Micah, Sean, and Rowan converge on me, all wearing identical expressions of shock and excitement.
"Did you smell that?" Sean whispers, which for him is still too loud. "She smells like?—"
"Like when lightning hits the lake during full moon," Rowan interrupts, his eyes glassy. He always was the poet of the group.
"Like an old spell book," Micah adds wistfully.
"Like our fucking Bonded," I growl, cutting them all off. "And she's terrified."
