“Is she safe?” I asked suddenly, still holding a waffle. My voice was low—barely above a whisper—but it came out sharper than I meant. My brain was still playing mental hopscotch over everything he had said, everything I had seen, and everything I didn’t understand.
Ethan, who was leaning back on his seat, blinked and tilted his head at me. “Hmm?”
I turned to fully face him, heart thudding hard again for an entirely different reason now. “My mom,” I said, trying to keep my tone calm. “She’s Greg’s mate, right? Doesn’t that mean she has… that scent too?”
For a second, he just stared at me. Then he shook his head like he found the question amusing in that weird way of his. “Oh, no,” he said, casual as anything. “Only female mates who haven’t been imprinted yet have that scent. Greg imprin
