Beneath the Wolf's Veil

The Scent

Ravens POV

The fight had taken the edge off, but not enough. Ash was still pacing within her mind, restless and clawing, even after the ride. Usually the Harley and the open road were enough to quiet it. Not tonight.

Pushing into Steeles Bar, the kind of place that smelled like sweat, cheap whiskey, and too many bad decisions. Perfect. Her crew were already there, spread at their corner table, beers in hand, laughing too loud. Giving them a quick nod, heading straight for the bar, and taking a seat.

"Whiskey neat, make it a double," I said to the bartender. Suddenly, my mouth started watering.

The scent cut through the haze like a blade-rich, grounding, impossible to ignore. Sandalwood. Heavy masculine. Wrapped in something sharp and unexpected. Apples. Crisp. Clean. It shouldn't have fit together, but it did, and it sank its teeth straight into her chest.

Ash froze for a second, inhaling deep as the smell surrounded Raven. Ash suddenly lunged forward, trying to take control of their human form. One word echoed in her mind as she sips her whiskey. "Mate," Ash says excitedly.

The word thundered through her veins, so loud she almost dropped the glass. She scanned the bar, her pulse spiking, but the crowd blurred. Boots, leather jackets, patches from rival crews. None of them close enough. None of them him.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. Her wolf clawed to get out, to find him. But I shoved Ash back, nails digging into the counter until her knuckles went white.

Not here. Not now.

She couldn't afford to slip. Not in front of her crew, not in front of half the city's outlaws. Whoever he was — he could wait.

"Boss, are you good?" Vin says, from the table, smirking. Waving her over.

"Peachy," I lied, heading to the table. My voice was steady, but her wolf was howling, thrashing against the mental barrier. The scent was everywhere, wrapping around me, making me feel like I couldn't breathe.

I needed an anchor. Someone to drown it out.

My gaze lands on my regular distraction. Logan, he was a fun time, a good distraction. He's a mechanic that rode with her crew occasionally. Broad shoulders, an easy grin, and the kind of man who never asked for more than she was willing to give. No strings. No bond. Just flesh and heat.

"Hey Logan, want to buy me another drink?" I asked, walking up to him.

Logan's eyes widen in surprise — I don't chase anyone. But then he grins wide. "Thought you'd never ask."

Minutes later, Logan's arms were draped over her shoulders, his laughter warm against my ear, as they slipped out the back door, towards my bike. The night air hit their faces, cooler than the smoke inside, but the scent followed. Sandalwood and apples, stronger than ever.

Ash snarled in protest, furious about walking with Logan and furious at Raven for going with him. I ignored Ash, focusing on Logan. I couldn't handle it anymore, grabbing Logan and pushing him against the wall, slamming my lips against his. His hands found her waist, greedy and familiar.

No matter how hard she kissed him, no matter how close she pressed, the truth didn't change.

It wasn't his scent that clung to her. It wasn't his touch that would make her blood burn with desire. And no matter how much she wanted to deny what was happening. She couldnt-

Ash knew, currently clawing and biting the mental barrier I put up to keep her from running to find our mate.

He was here, somewhere watching, waiting.