Elijah lingered in the shadowed corner of the room, just far enough that he could see them, close enough that every whispered word cut him sharper than any blade. Tina's silver hair gleamed under the soft light of the chandelier, the vanilla-mint warmth of her pheromones drifting straight to him. He inhaled, his chest tightening in frustration. She was here, smiling, laughing, her alpha energy wrapping around Andrew like a soft, irresistible cloak.
Andrew. His omega scent—honeyed, familiar, grounding—mixed with Tina's vanilla-mint like sunlight meeting honey on crisp morning bread. Elijah's nostrils flared. The two of them together, so intimate, so oblivious to him… it was unbearable. His wintery crisp pheromones stiffened, freezing the edges of his own control. He gritted his teeth, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the glass in his hand.
