Page 15 of Bonded By Christmas
I’ve never been led around by my instincts, but I can’t seem to fight the urge to learn more about her.
She pops out of the bathroom and squeaks when she spots me leaning against the wall opposite the door. It’s like a magnet pulls me across the hallway, and the next thing I know, my hands are on her shoulders as I push her up against the wall just next to the bathroom door.
She would have every right to slap me away or scream for help.
If I was in my right mind, I’d be appalled by my behavior, but all I can focus on is huffing hits of her scent.
It’s truly indescribable.
Those electric notes make no fucking sense, but there are lightly floral and sweet fruity undertones. Whatever it is seems to knock all rational thought from my mind, and I bend, burying my nose in her throat.
“What’s your name?” I growl out the question, barely holding myself back from licking her skin.
Shit.
I’m too far gone—acting like one of those rabid alphas they tranquilize.
“L-Lacey.” Her hands come to rest on my forearms, and she groans, shaking her head. “Why do you smell like that?”
“Wilder,” I murmur, “and I’d very much like to know the same thing. Which house are you a guest of?”
Based on which family she’s associated with, I’ll have an idea of how much scheming I’m going to have to do to make her mine.
There were seven original families in the old days. With mine removed, there are six, but they often make marriage pacts with one another to secure territory and encourage peace. Someone is much less likely to attack a rival house thathouses their daughter. At least, if they have even a modicum of decency.
That could be complicated if she’s promised to someone else, but my entire job is to broker deals and peaceful transactions.
“House?” she whispers. “I’m here with my mom. It’s her pre-wedding party thing.”
My lips drag along her cheek as I pull back, my addled mind working double time to catch up.
If she’s here with Dawn…
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, shaking my head and taking a large step back. “How old are you?”
Her eyes widen, and she sputters, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ll be eighteen in eleven days.”
Way too young for me.
Hell, if she were freshly eighteen, it wouldn’t make it any better. We’re at two totally different stages in our lives. A six-year age difference isn’t much when both parties are in their twenties or above, but I’ve got way more life experience than she does.
“Sorry about”—I wave a hand—“all of this.” I take another step back and offer a tight smile. “Welcome to the family, little sister.” And with that, I spin around and meander back down the hallway toward the party.
I’m going to need a lot of alcohol to make my system forget her electric scent, and even more to be around her from now until the wedding.
Present Day
It’s been three years since that fucking party, and I still remember every note of her complex scent. I’ve given her space to grow into her own, but she’s about to turn twenty-one right after Christmas.
I’ve waited long enough.
We’ve seen each other over the years, and she’s never said a word about how I invaded her space that first night. She’s also never let on that she’s as attracted to my scent as I am to hers, but I have seen the looks she shoots my way when she doesn’t know I’m watching.
She’s attracted to me, even if she thinks she shouldn’t be. There’s nothing weird about the two of us being together. It’s a well-known fact that stepsiblings often end up bonded after their parents. It’s simple biology.
My dads are inherently drawn to her mother’s scent, and I’m unnaturally obsessed with the way Lacey smells.
It may have been taboo fifty or a hundred years ago, but times are changing. Blended families have become more frequent than they once were, thus leading to more cases of scent matches within stepfamilies.
