nn

settled in my throat, my terminal began

ce's name, sending a fresh wave of vi

tier Alpha whose weak, unstable agave scent had once seemed familiar, but after waking up drenched in Win

le fidelity. Yet even after discarding five years of our shared history to secretly roll in bed wi

dth on undignified screaming matches in public. I was waiting for the ideal stage

swiped the red icon a

, encrypted ping chimed across my term

ng request

n Kens

he notification for several seconds to ensure

empting to link our biological profiles? As my employer? Or as t

rs to share real-time pheromone

tapped Decline without

hs. Aside from my direct department head, Julian Vance, I had zero reason to interact with s

runways and commanding billions in global revenue. Under ordinary circumstances, an unbonded de

ed all historical retail records, which was the sole reason the reclusive CEO

ification flashed across our

o Conference Room 28 for an eme

minu

r tote, and sprinted toward the soaring gla

oward the central elevator bank and

Chloe Sullivan teased, looking me up and down with keen, sparklin

division. It was true; I despised stiff,

my collarbone. "To project an image of undeniable executive competence,

ully delivering a firm, congratulatory smack to my backside. "Wh

ss

s. An S-class Alpha's grip during the height of a rut was devastatingly powe

ing the breathless whim

a broad, manicured hand reached through the th

ass doors sl

sionalism. And stepping in right behind him was Winston Kensington,

sses resting on the high bridge of his nose, and the titanium Level VII scent co

essed our backs against the

rning to face the doors, positioning his massive frame direct

dare lif

lpha rolled off his broad shoulders in silent waves. The air inside the confined cab grew impossibly th

in of my scent gland began to prickle with sudden, traitorous he

ept from the back of my ne

to shoulder with the man who had torn my clo