6. ETHAN

Chapter six

ETHAN

The drive home takes less than ten minutes, but I’m restless the entire way. The car is silent except for the soft hum of the engine and I keep fidgeting with the hem of my shirt, glancing at her hands on the wheel. She drives so effortlessly, her long fingers relaxed on the leather steering wheel, her gaze steady and focused. Even now, when I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams, she’s calm.

I hate how much I need that.

When we pull into the driveway, the sight of the house does what it always does—it takes my breath away. The sleek lines and abstract angles make it look like something out of a design magazine and I feel that familiar pang of disbelief that I live here now. The tall windows glint faintly in the moonlight, their geometric patterns casting shadows across the perfectly manicured lawn. It’s beautiful in a way that feels untouchable, and yet... something about it feels like home.

Zana parks the car and comes around to open my door before I even reach for the handle. Her hand rests lightly on my lower back as she guides me inside, her warmth grounding me for just a moment.

“Baby, I can see you worrying. Everything will work out as it always does.” She waits for me to rest against her, letting her words sink in. “Anything you want to change yet?” she asks, her voice teasing as she leans down to nibble on my ear.

I shake my head, managing a small smile. “No. I like it.” And I do. Most Omegas step into their Alphas’ houses and immediately want to move everything around to make it theirs. Me? I wouldn’t change a damn thing because this feels like an extension of Zana and I want her just as she is.

She hums in approval, her fingers tracing small, soothing circles along my spine as she nudges me forward. The familiar scent of her home wraps around me as we step inside—a mix of wood and faint citrus, undercut by the faintest trace of something... missing.

The thought makes my chest tighten, but I push it down as I kick off my shoes and head toward the living room. Zana is right behind me, her hands resting on my shoulders as she gently pulls me back against her, the weight of her presence is both comforting and stifling.

“What do you want to do?” she asks softly, her voice a low rumble that I feel more than hear. Her Alpha purr follows, keeping me from spiraling into whatever panic is edging its way into my consciousness right now. Zana always puts me first, even when I think I want one thing and need another. Fifteen minutes ago, the only thing I wanted was to be inside of my Alpha and now I’m just confused. Maybe disoriented is a better word.

I shrug, my hands fiddling with the edge of my shirt again. “I don’t know,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady but the restless energy from earlier hasn’t gone away. If anything, it’s worse now that we’re here. The house feels... off. Like something important has been misplaced and I can’t figure out what it is. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Alpha. I just…” Needing more than her makes me feel horrible, selfish even.

She doesn’t press me, just hums again and lets her hands slide down to my waist, holding me firmly as if she can sense how close I am to unraveling. I tilt my head slightly, catching the warm, spicy notes of her scent—rich cinnamon and honey, the combination as intoxicating now as it was the first time I caught it.

But there’s something else. Or rather, there isn’t . That other scent, the one I can’t stop thinking about, the one I’ve been chasing for weeks now—it’s gone. Or fading. It’s that sweet, earthy mix of almond and sandalwood, the scent that’s been driving me insane. The one I can’t name, can’t trace, can’t pin down.

My heart starts to race and I pull away from Zana, pacing across the living room. I can’t sit still, can’t focus. The air feels too thin, too sharp, and I can’t stop sniffing, trying to catch even the faintest hint of that scent. It’s not here. It’s not here.

“Ethan?” Zana’s voice is cautious now, her eyes tracking me as I pace. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I say quickly, the word tumbling out before I can stop it. “I just—nothing.”

She doesn’t believe me. Her gaze sharpens, but she doesn’t push. Not yet. Instead, she steps closer, her hands reaching out to gently tug me back toward her.

“Breathe, baby,” she says softly, her thumbs stroking my arms. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice cracking. “I don’t know what it is, Zana. It’s like... like something’s missing, but I don’t know what. My chest hurts and I can’t stop thinking about—” I cut myself off, biting my lip.

“Thinking about what?” she prompts, her tone soft but growing insistent.

I shake my head, frustrated tears burning at the edges of my eyes. “It’s stupid.”

“Nothing that makes you feel like this is stupid,” she says firmly, her hands sliding up to cradle my face. Her thumbs brush away the tears before they can fall, her scent wrapping around me like a cocoon. Zana presses her lips to mine, tasting me for several seconds before whispering, “Tell me.”

I hesitate, my throat tightening. “It’s a smell,” I finally push out, the words spilling out in a rush. “It’s this scent—I don’t even know if I’ve really smelled it, but it’s been in my head for weeks now. It’s almond and sandalwood, and it’s everywhere—I keep buying things that smell like it, but it’s never right. It’s never enough. ”

I wait for her to lash out like my father always did, the authority figure in the house wanting me to be grateful for what I have. But this has been bothering me for weeks. Her hands stay steady on my face, her touch grounding even as my chest tightens further.

“When did this start?”

“I don’t know,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “A few weeks ago. Maybe longer. I just—I can’t stop thinking about it. I need it, Zana. I don’t know why, but I need it.”

Her expression softens and she pulls me against her again, her lips pressing to my forehead. “We’ll figure it out,” she purrs. “If it’s important to you, we’ll figure it out. I promise.”

Her words ease some of the tension, but the ache in my chest doesn’t go away. I nod against her, my fingers clutching at her shirt as if letting go might break me entirely. Zana moves before I realize what’s happening, guiding me toward the couch. I let her, stumbling slightly, my breath coming too fast, too shallow. The edges of my vision blur, panic clawing at my chest like a living thing.

“Sit,” she says softly, her voice steady and grounding. She kneels in front of me as I drop onto the couch, her hands resting on my knees. “Ethan, look at me.”

I force my gaze to hers, the rich brown of her eyes anchoring me. Her hands slide up to cup my face, her thumbs brushing against my cheekbones. “Breathe, baby,” she murmurs, leaning closer. “In, out. With me. You’re such a good boy, for me, aren’t you?”

I try, mimicking the slow rise and fall of her chest. It’s hard—my lungs feel tight, like I can’t get enough air—but the steadiness of her presence starts to work its way through the haze. Then her lips brush against mine, pulling me back to the moment. The panic doesn’t disappear, but it lessens, just enough for me to focus.

“There you are,” she praises, her lips curving into a small smile. She kisses me again, slower this time, her hands warm against my skin. “Good boy.” Her words send a shiver down my spine, the praise wrapping around me like a blanket. She pulls back, her gaze searching mine. “Can you tell what feels wrong or off?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper, the words trembling on the edge of a sob. “It’s... everything.”

She tilts her head, her eyes softening. “Does your heart hurt?”

“Yes,” I admit, my voice barely audible.

“Does it feel like there’s something just out of reach? Like the thing you’re looking for is right around the corner, but you can’t quite find it?”

“Yes,” I whisper again, tears prickling at the edges of my eyes. “Exactly like that.”

She chuckles softly, the sound low and soothing. “I think I know what’s going on,” she says, her thumb brushing away the tear that escapes. “You’ve found another mate, baby.”

Her words hit me like a jolt of lightning and I blink at her, stunned. “What?”

She laughs again, sitting back on her heels and pulling me with her until I’m curled up in her lap on the floor. “You’ve been trying to recreate the scent, haven’t you? Almond and sandalwood, right? That’s not a random craving, little one. That’s a scent match.”

I gape at her, my mind spinning. “You think so?”

“I know so,” she says, her tone matter-of-fact. “That’s how scent matches work. When you catch onto a mate’s scent—even before you meet them—it sticks with you. It becomes this... ache, this longing. That’s why you’re freaking out. Your body knows there’s someone out there who’s supposed to be here, with us.”

“Do you feel it too?” I ask hesitantly, searching her face for any sign of confirmation.

She shakes her head. “That’s not how it works, love. Until I actually smell the scent myself, I won’t feel the pull the way you do. But that doesn’t mean I don’t believe you.” She leans forward, her lips brushing against mine again. “I find the scent intriguing. Sweet but grounded. It suits you.”

I pout slightly and she laughs, nuzzling her nose against mine. “You’re adorable,” she purrs. “And when we find your other mate, I’ll make sure they’re comfortable. They’ll have a place here with us. Come on. Let’s get you into the nest.”

I hesitate for a moment as she stands up but then take her hand, letting her pull me to my feet. She leads me down the hall, her fingers laced with mine. The door creaks open, revealing the chaotic mass of pillows, blankets, and plushies that take up the entire space. It’s become my favorite place in the entire house, a little bit of happiness and fluff all in one place.

The colors clash in the best way, a mixture of vibrant blues, soft greens, and warm yellows. There’s no order, no symmetry, just comfort. It smells like Zana, her scent woven into every corner, and the faint trace of the missing scent lingers, though it’s weaker now.

Zana guides me to the edge of the nest, her hands steadying me as I climb in. She follows, her movements graceful as she settles beside me. Her fingers brush against my cheek, her touch featherlight as she presses a kiss to my forehead.

“I’ll take care of you tonight, baby,” she muses, gently placing me on my back. “I’ve got you.”

And I know that she does. She always does.