Scentless

Scent

Chapter 2:

Ava couldn’t remember the last time she had been nervous around Damon Hale. Sure, their relationship had started out strictly professional, and, in truth, it still was—on paper. But somewhere along the line, things had shifted. The atmosphere in the office had become… different. Softer, in a way. Where there had once been tension and scrutiny, now there was a strange, almost comfortable rhythm between them.

Not that Ava had planned it that way.

It had been six months since she started working as Damon’s personal assistant, and by all accounts, she had done an impeccable job. The only challenge she hadn’t quite expected was getting used to Damon himself. Over time, the aloof, almost intimidating alpha had started to warm up to her. Not in a casual, friendly way, but in small gestures—brief moments of conversation that extended beyond work, the occasional smirk when he caught her rolling her eyes at some absurd client demand.

The strangest part? It didn’t bother her.

Ava was used to keeping people at arm’s length—especially alphas. But with Damon, it was becoming more difficult. She felt him observing her at times, his dark eyes always watching, always calculating. And yet, there was a softness in his gaze when they interacted now, something that hadn’t been there before.

And people in the office had noticed.

---

It was a Wednesday when Ava found herself sitting across from Damon in the company cafeteria. Of course, it hadn’t been intentional. Damon had asked her to bring him a file before his next meeting, and she’d found him there, alone at one of the small corner tables, finishing his coffee. It was odd to see him in the cafeteria at all, considering he typically had his meals delivered to his office.

"Sit," Damon had said, nodding to the chair opposite him when she arrived.

"I just came to—"

"Sit," he repeated, in that authoritative way he had, as if the idea of someone disobeying him was absurd.

Ava, more out of habit than anything else, complied. She handed him the file and then, with a small sigh, sat down.

She hadn’t expected it to turn into a full lunch break, but somehow it had. Damon didn’t rush through the meeting notes like usual, and before she knew it, they were casually discussing office politics, some recent acquisition, and then… the subject of lunch.

“You never take a real break,” Damon noted, his sharp gaze settling on her half-empty cup of coffee. “Is coffee your idea of lunch?”

Ava shrugged, feeling oddly self-conscious. “I usually just eat at my desk. It’s easier.”

“You’re always working,” he said, and for a moment, Ava wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or a reprimand.

“I like being productive,” she replied. “And keeping busy.”

Damon’s lips twitched, almost into a smile. “You do realize that even alphas take breaks now and then, right? You’re allowed to eat.”

Ava smiled back, her defenses lowering just a bit. “I do eat. Just… efficiently.”

He snorted softly, and for a split second, Ava saw the man beneath the cold, stoic exterior. Relaxed, almost amused.

She hadn’t realized how easy it had become to talk to him. But when she glanced around the room, she noticed something else: the eyes of their co-workers. People were watching them. Watching *her*.

Ava shifted uncomfortably, her fingers wrapping tightly around her coffee cup as if it could shield her from the sudden scrutiny. Damon seemed oblivious, or perhaps he just didn’t care. He was the CEO, after all. But for her, it was different. The last thing she wanted was to be the subject of office gossip.

She cleared her throat, trying to bring the conversation back to work. "Do you need anything else before your meeting this afternoon?"

But Damon didn’t take the hint. He was watching her with that same calculating look he’d given her before. Not cold or detached, but as if he was trying to figure out something. Like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit.

"Why are you always like this?" Damon asked suddenly, his tone curious, but laced with something Ava couldn’t quite place.

"Like what?" she replied cautiously.

"So guarded," he said, leaning back in his chair. "You’re scentless. You don’t respond to pheromones like other omegas. You’re always composed, always in control."

Ava froze. His words, though casual, felt like they carried more weight than usual. She had gone through months of carefully maintaining her composure around him, and now it felt like he was challenging that.

She forced a smile. "It’s just my nature."

Damon didn’t look convinced. His eyes narrowed slightly as if he was probing for something deeper. "Is it really?"

Ava opened her mouth to respond, but just as she did, one of the junior executives passed by their table, giving them both a not-so-subtle glance. Ava immediately tensed, and Damon’s eyes followed the movement.

She had to stop this. Whatever casual, unspoken camaraderie had developed between them, it couldn’t continue—not if it meant becoming the center of office gossip.

"We should… keep things professional," Ava said quickly, her voice a little sharper than she intended.

Damon raised an eyebrow. "We *are* being professional."

"People are watching," she muttered, glancing around again. "It’s not… ideal."

To her surprise, Damon let out a low chuckle. "Since when do you care about what people think?"

Ava’s cheeks warmed, and she cursed herself for even bringing it up. She hadn’t cared before, but now, with Damon… it was different. She didn’t like the attention. Not this kind of attention. It made things complicated. And she had worked too hard to stay under the radar to let something like this unravel her carefully maintained facade.

"I’m just saying," she started again, her tone more measured, "it might be better if we keep our interactions… minimal."

Damon’s smile faded, replaced by something more thoughtful. He studied her for a long moment, and Ava suddenly felt like she was standing on thin ice. She had no idea what was going through his mind, but the tension between them shifted—like a string pulled too tight, ready to snap.

"I don’t agree," Damon said slowly, his voice low. "But I understand your concern."

Ava blinked, a little taken aback by his directness.

"But," he continued, leaning forward slightly, his gaze never leaving hers, "I’ll tell you something."

"What?"

He hesitated, as if weighing whether or not to speak his mind. Then, finally, he said, "I can smell you."

Ava’s breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she thought she had misheard him. "What?"

"I can smell you," Damon repeated, his voice calm, but there was an intensity in his eyes that made her pulse quicken. "Your scent. It’s faint, but it’s there."

Ava shook her head, disbelief clouding her thoughts. "That’s not possible. I told you, I don’t have a strong scent. It’s practically nonexistent."

Damon leaned back again, his eyes never leaving hers. "Maybe to others. But I can smell you, Ava. And I…" He paused, his gaze softening just a fraction. "I like it."

Ava felt her entire world tilt on its axis. This wasn’t happening. She had gone her whole life without anyone detecting her scent—without *needing* to deal with the challenges other omegas faced. But now… Damon was saying he could smell her?

And worse, that he 'liked' it?

She felt trapped, her mind scrambling to make sense of the situation. Had she been careless? Had her scent somehow strengthened? Or was this something else entirely?

"That doesn’t make sense," she muttered, more to herself than to Damon. "It’s not possible…"

Damon’s expression softened, and for a moment, she saw a rare glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes. "I don’t know why or how," he admitted, "but I can smell you. And it’s… soothing."

Soothing. The word hung in the air between them, thick with implications that neither of them seemed ready to address.

Ava felt her pulse quicken, her thoughts racing. This was the last thing she needed—the last thing she had ever expected. Damon, the alpha who hated omega scents, was telling her that 'her' scent, the one she didn’t even realize she had, was soothing to him.

She needed to regain control of the situation. Fast.

"This changes nothing," she said quickly, her voice a little too high-pitched to sound convincing. "I’m still your assistant. We still need to keep things professional. Whatever you think you’re sensing, it doesn’t matter."

Damon’s eyes darkened slightly, his jaw tightening. "You’re right. It doesn’t change anything… yet."

The "yet" hung between them, unspoken but heavy with meaning.

Ava stood up abruptly, grabbing her coffee cup and stepping away from the table. "I need to get back to work."

Damon watched her, his expression unreadable. "Ava—"

"Please," she interrupted, her voice softer now, almost pleading. "Let’s just… leave it at that."

For a long, tense moment, neither of them spoke. Then, finally, Damon nodded, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

"Alright," he said, his voice quiet.

"For now."

Ava nodded curtly, turning on her heel and heading back to the office, her heart pounding in her chest.

As she walked through the corridors, she could feel the weight of Damon’s gaze on her back, even though he was no longer in sight. This was spiraling out of control, and Ava knew that if she didn’t find a way to manage it, things were going to get even more complicated than they already were.

But the worst part was that some small part of her—some part she didn’t want to acknowledge—felt a strange sense of relief. A dangerous sense of relief.

Because for the first time in her life, someone had 'noticed' her scent. And for the first time, it wasn’t something to hide—it was something Damon 'liked'.

And that was terrifying.