Page 101 of Knotting the Firefighters
But his scent isn't alone. Three other distinct aromas wind through the air, each carrying different notes but all combining into a symphony that makes my exhausted brain release happy chemicals.
Cedar and black amber.
Maple syrup and roasted chestnuts.
Honey and eucalyptus.
All of them here.
Aidric, Bear, Silas.
Why are they here?
Why does their combined presence make me feel like I'm floating toward sanctuary?
My feet carry me toward the living room instead of the kitchen, destination changing without conscious decision. The voices grow clearer as I approach—angry undertones mixing with forced whispers, the particular sound of Alphas trying to maintain quiet while actually wanting to yell.
"—why did you fucking bond with her?—"
"—why do you fucking care?—"
Bond?
What bond?
What are they talking about?
The conversation cuts off abruptly as I shuffle into the doorway, my presence apparently noticed despite my attempt at stealth. Four faces turn toward me—expressions ranging from concern to frustration to something that looks dangerously close to possessive satisfaction.
Can't keep eyes open.
Too bright, too much effort.
Easier to just close them and navigate by other senses.
"Wendolyn?" A deep voice—familiar warmth that my sluggish brain associates with comfort and safety and?—
Teddy bear.
Bear's here.
Why is Bear here?
"Does she sleepwalk?" The question carries genuine concern, directed at someone else rather than me.
Calder's response comes from closer proximity than expected.
"No, but I did fuck her at least three more times this morning, so she's probably exhausted."
Oh.
That explains the soreness.
And the complete inability to function like a normal human being.
Another voice grumbles—Aidric, by the particular quality of irritation.
"None of us need details about your sexual marathon. Keep that information to yourself."
