Reyes was going mad inside, her alpha instincts clawing feral at the edges—that sweet, unique scent wafting off Emily in waves, richer and more intoxicating than any omega she'd ever caught drift of.
Not that she'd tangled close with any omega before, but damn, she trusted her nose—this was pure nectar, hidden under layers of jasmine soap and lavender suds like a veiled secret begging uncover.
It twisted her gut possessive, gray eyes darkening stormy every inhale—was this how Emily really smelled? How the hell did this woman consider herself as omega?
She couldn't quite pin it down—this wasn't standard omega bloom; it felt muffled, cloaked by something artificial, like blockers or denial. Maybe Emily was hiding her real gender.
This might be the reason of this wonderful smell.
But why is she hiding her real identity?
