Her Scent
Xander POV
The war room hums with energy, like a quiet tension hanging in the air. It feels like the final breath before a battle. The table in the center is carved from dark stone, and etched with ancient runes that shimmer under the lights overhead. The maps are now all stretched open and weighed down at the corners with iron markers. Red pins mark a selection of pressure points. Blue pins signal routes for supplies. Standing here, I run my hand along the edge of the table, tracing the lines that divide territory, ours and theirs.
It’s quiet in here, this room is created to shield us from the outside. There’s no noise coming in, no scents, nothing. The room is veiled by layers of cloaking spells, some of the enchantments are older than my bloodline, drawn from the stone itself. The room is sealed to everything outside, a vault of silence and focus. It’s the best way for this room to be. It’s a room where we talk, prepare are movements, so we can’t risk anyone hearing anything.
Garrick, my Gamma, is standing across from me. His hands are braced against the table. He furrows his brows as he leans over the western edge of the map. That is the side that has been a concern now for weeks, and we’ve got to fix it. The valley route is too exposed, too narrow to be defended by strength alone. The old patrol posts there were abandoned long ago.
“We reinforce here,” I say as I point to the ridgeline above the creek. “We shift the second unit into rotation at dawn. We also keep the third for shadow coverage through the night.”
Garrick is quick to nod in agreement. “And what about the sentries?”
“We rotate those every six hours. There are no gaps. If someone’s late, we replace them.”
He grunts in approval, dragging out of the pins into position. The table clicks softly beneath his fingers. The strategy locks into place the moment the pin is pushed in.
“We’ll hold,” he says, his voice steady.
“We always do,” I reply. He knows that I’m right, we do always manage to hold.
!A knock breaks the quiet.
It takes me a moment to realise, it’s so faint I nearly dismiss it as part of the pulse of the warded stone, but then it sounds again, louder. Garrick steps back as I move to the door and pull it open.
One of the maids stands there, her hands are clasped in front of her apron, her eyes are wide with apprehension.
“Alpha,” she says with a small bow. I nod once, giving her permission to continue speaking. “I’m here because of Serafine. She’s locked herself in her room.”
For a moment, I don’t try to respond. My brow lifts in disbelief, and I can’t help the dry laugh that escapes me.
“She claims that she is feeling ill,” the maid adds quickly, as though that will explain something, or justify the interruption.
“She’s acting,” I mutter while shaking my head. “She’s trying to make a scene.”
The maid says nothing, she stands waiting for orders, and I can see she won’t leave until I express them.
“Leave her to it,” I say while waving my hand. “All she wants is attention. I won’t give it to her.” I’m too busy for Serafine’s foolish games right now.
She nods and murmurs something resembling a ‘yes, Alpha‘ and then disappears out of the door, closing it behind her. They should know, by what I told them, by who she is, that she’s doing it to cause issues and for attention.
“Problem?” Garrick asks, not looking up from the maps.
“No, not at all,” I reply as I return to the table. “She’s playing games; let her exhaust herself with them.”
We begin to go over the plans more. It takes us hours to finalize the shift schedules and realign the outposts. Grabbing the leather–bound ledge, I scribble down notes, my handwriting is sharp and precise. While I am, Garrick marks the board with his usual grim efficiency, placing the command stones into the slots to seal the schedule.
The map glows faintly, confirming our changes.
Rolling my shoulders back, the tension in my spine eases slightly; it’s a good thing. We’re securing things, I’m not entirely convinced that Serafine’s father doesn’t know who he sold her to. Both he and she could be using this time she is here to find the weaknesses, and I won’t let there be one.
Another knock sounds, and I sigh. I don’t bother to hide my annoyance this time, they know I’m working against a deadline. Garrick opens the door and another younger maid stands there. Her face is etched with concern, and if this is about Serafine, I might actually punish her.
“Alpha Xander,” she says without waiting for permission to speak. That says this isn’t stupid, it’s urgent. “Serafine hasn’t eaten today. We’ve tried twice and she refuses to eat or open the door.”
1/2
Her Scent
I stare at her for a long moment, irritation prickling beneath my skin. I thought it would be urgent, not Serafine! Somehow, she must have been made aware of my plans, and now she’s trying to sabotage my attempts to secure things from her
father.
“I don’t care what game she’s playing,” I say, my voice cold. “Let her stay locked in there?”
Her lips part like she’s about to say more, and I glare towards her, and she closes her mouth. Good, I don’t have time to waste on Serafine and her fake illness. The maid bows and walks away, and Garrick closes the door with more force than needed. Still not as forceful as I would have closed it if it were me.
“She’ll come out when she’s ready,” I mutter under my breath as I focus back on the table. “If she’s that hungry, she’ll stop playing games and pretending to be ill.”
Standing here, we finalize the last of the few entries and begin compiling the formal report for supply runners and the border guards. By the time we finish, the candles have burned low and the magic within the room begins to pulse. It’s a reminder of how much time has passed.
Staying in a magic–bound room can have effects on wolves if we’re in here too long, so it’s time for us to leave and have a break.
Blocking out the last flame, I reach the door, and the moment I open it and step out, something slams into me. Not physically, but instinctually. The scent crashes into me like a wall, thick and heady. It’s impossible to ignore, and my wolf instantly surges and snarls violently within me; it’s so violent that I have to brace myself against the doorframe to stay upright. Heat instantly rushes through my limbs and lights every nerve on fire.
The scent is unmistakable…Heat, not just any, but hers. Serafine’s.
Behind me, I hear Garrick inhale sharply, his wolf growls and I snap my head around to see the other men in the hallway frozen in place. Their nostrils flare, and their bodies stiffen as their wolves begin to awaken.
“Don’t even fucking look in her direction,” I growl, my wolf becomes eager. None of them move or even try to speak; they don’t need to. My voice carries the weight of something deeper than rank, something feral and from my wolf.
I won’t wait for their response. I step away from the war room and follow the scent. It coils through the air, it’s like smoke spreading fast. It’s thick and intoxicating, and my wolf is no longer pacing in my mind. He’s lunging, snarling for control, and every part of me pulls toward her.
As I move through the corridor, I follow her scent and go down the steps outside and past the edge of the garden. The trees rise around me as I step into them. Her scent is stronger here, sharper and desperate.
Suddenly, I see her. She’s in the trees, barely even concealed by the shadows. Her hair is loose and tangled, and I can see from her chest that her breathing is heavy and wild. She’s barefoot, her skin flushed and her nightgown clings to her like a second skin.
She looks like a fevered dream, and she smells exactly like mine.
