18. Jasmine

I'm working with Kelly in the kitchen a couple of days later when Declan comes bustling in with a bunch of packages under his arm. "Special delivery," he draws, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the door. "Come with me, darlin'."

"Wait up!" I protest, trying to wipe my fingers on my apron. "I was in the middle of a peri peri sauce, and those bird's eye chilis are spicy. You don't want me to get it on you."

But Declan just laughs. "I'm from South Texas, darlin'. There's no such thing as too hot when it comes to you and cookin'." I roll my eyes at him, but he stops in the middle of the hallway and cocks a challenging brow. "You want me to prove it?"

"What are you going to do? Go back to the kitchen and chug my sauce like it's water?"

"Why would I do that when I have somethin' much tastier right here?" Lifting our clasped hands to his mouth, he starts to lick across my sticky fingers, and I watch him almost in a trance. Part of me is mesmerized by the rasp of his tongue over my skin, but I'm also waiting for the heat to hit. But he just hums happily as he cleans me up, finally sucking my thumb into his mouth and releasing it with an audible slurp. "Delicious."

"You're crazy!" I grumble, pulling away and wiping my hand on my apron. "And kind of disgusting."

Of course, my fingers are now tingling from something other than the chilis. Declan seems to know it too, because he slants a filthy smile my way. "Spicy, sticky, or just plain wet, you taste damn good to me, darlin'."

I'm still shaking my head at him as he chuckles and drags me into the room at the end of the hall. I haven't explored down here yet, but I can hear Chewie yipping and Violet's surprisingly calm voice. My sister isn't exactly known for her patience, but she seems to have discovered a bottomless well when it comes to the excitable puppy.

I smell Casper's scent before I see him, but I still stop abruptly at the scene before me. Chewie is dashing around, his little claws scratching frantically on the shiny floorboards as Violet reads aloud from her training book. They both look up as we enter, and I give my sister an encouraging smile.

But my attention quickly moves to Casper. He's sitting on a stool in front of a huge black piano. The lid is down, but his fingers are tapping the top like he's playing imaginary keys. His head turns at our approach, and the strain on his face makes my heart clench. It's like he's trying to hear something far away, his ears chasing a fading sound.

"How's the trainin' goin'?" Declan asks into the sudden quiet, his hand patting the top of my sister's head. "Makin' progress with the little bandit?"

"Slowly," Violet huffs, looking up at him hopefully. "But that's normal, right, Dec? All puppies take a while to warm up to instructions."

"Sure is. He's got a brain the size of a pea and the attention span of a gnat. You're doin' great, Lettie."

I wait for my sister to scowl at the nickname, or to complain about Declan ruffling her hair, but she gazes up at him like he hung the moon. Huh. Guess she's decided she likes those things, after all.

"Thanks for keeping them company," I tell Casper as I walk over, my hand sliding to the back of his neck. His skin is so soft and warm, it instantly makes me breathless. And when he tugs me down onto the stool, I can't resist curling into his shoulder, breathing in his scent. I glance back at my sister and drop my voice. "They're not disturbing you, are they?"

"I'm happy to have them in here." He taps his knuckles on the piano lid and gives me a wry smile. "The silence is deafening sometimes."

I squirm forward, my arm sliding around his waist. "Anytime you want me to sing, you just let me know. You might want to invest in some heavy-duty ear plugs first, but I'm willing to give it a shot."

He smirks and drops a kiss on my cheek, while his hand slides up my thigh. I'm wearing jeans, so there's a layer of denim between us, but I'm surprised the fabric doesn't burst into flames as he traces a lazy circle on my leg. "Pretty sure I've already heard you sing, sweetheart. The acoustics in that hallway closet were especially memorable."

I'd roll my eyes at him if his touch didn't instantly reduce me to mush. Damn, I already like him so much. How is that possible? Although, he's not exaggerating about the hallway closet. Our steamy make-out session yesterday will live rent free in my head for a long time.

"Okay, canoodlers," Declan says, swinging his leg over the stool and nudging me into Casper. "We didn't just come up here so you two could cuddle. I've got a surprise for you."

He sets his packages on the top of the piano and grabs a thin one from the middle. It has a logo with a music note on the top, and as he peels it open, I can sense a whiff of nervousness in his scent. Casper's brow is scrunched in curiosity, but his mouth goes slack as Declan presses the contents into his hands. At first glance it looks like a rubber mat, but then I notice the lines of music embossed on the surface.

"It's a 3D music sheet for Sonata No.2." Declan tells him, his Texan drawl almost clipped with nerves. "I have a couple others, but if you tell me what you want, I can get ‘em printed up. They're doin' some really cool things in touch sensitive products these days."

I glance back at Casper, relieved to see him tracing his fingers over the music sheet, his scent a sweet cloud. "Wow! That's amazing, Dec. And you can really get others made up?"

Declan puffs up with relief, his chest brushing my back as he slings an arm around my waist. "Just tell me what you want. The guy who makes them plays piano too. He said he's got a heap in stock, but also prints to order. Here's his catalog."

He hands over another sheet from the packing envelope and Casper's smile grows as he runs his fingers over the embossed list. "Thanks, Dec. I really appreciate it."

"Anythin' for you, sweetheart." Declan is almost humming with happiness, his spicy amber scent mingling with Casper's sweetness. When I turn to smile at him, his lips are only an inch from mine. My heart gives an excited thump, but then he pulls back with a cheeky grin. "I've got more surprises."

"Something for me?" Violet asks, her eyes big and hopeful again.

"Of course, but you're gonna have to wait until Xavi and Erik get here. This is a group surprise."

Violet casts an impatient glance at the door, but she doesn't have to wait for long because I can already hear the guys heading down the hallway. As soon as they enter the room, Chewie dashes over to terrorize Erik's laces while Xavier bobs down to talk quietly to my sister. I notice him doing that a lot, checking in with her and giving her little gifts, like the fluffy giraffe pen he slips from his pocket. I have no idea where Xavier gets his stationery, but since everything else in his office could be straight out of an Alpha Abroad catalog, I'm thinking he must have a secret stash. Or else he's ordered it specially for my sister, like Declan did with the sheet music for Casper. And that makes my heart just about melt through my ribs.

"You look happy," he says when he comes over to us. "What's going on?"

"Dec just gave me some 3D music," Casper explains, leaning against Xavier. When he tips his head back, there's no missing Xavier's reaction. His woodsmoke scent is suddenly so strong I'm tempted to look around for a fireplace. And the way he stares at Casper's mouth, I'm pretty sure he's about to make a move. I squirm, entranced, but Xavier settles for brushing his thumb over Casper's pink cheek, and I try not to sigh with disappointment.

Leaning forward, Xavier reads the top of the sheet music. "Chopin's Sonata No.2. That's a challenging piece."

My brows shoot up at the coincidence. "Chopin? Seriously? I had you pegged from day one." When the guys chuckle, I protest, "Hey, he's pretty much the only composer I know."

Casper gives me an indulgent smile, his hand landing back on my thigh. "Don't worry babe, I'll add music appreciation to your education program."

There's a thick undertone in his voice, and he seals the promise with a slow, teasing kiss. He uses Xavier's body to block the heated display from Violet, but it doesn't stop the guys from watching. A purr rattles in Xavier's chest while Declan's breath feathers over the back of my neck. When his hand slides over Casper's on my thigh, I whimper at the heat burning into my jeans. My fingers clutch Casper's shirt as he licks into my mouth, and if my sister wasn't only a couple of feet away, I would have crawled into his lap.

It"s over way too soon, but as I come up for air, Erik's gaze snares mine. His knuckles are white as he squeezes his folded arms against his chest, and I wonder what he's trying to hold back. Is he thinking about the porn we watched in his office, and the way I tasted his knot? The heat in his eyes makes me bold, and instead of looking away, I say, "I'm up for anything you guys want to teach me."

"Damn, you two are trouble," Declan laughs, reaching for the next package. It's bigger than Casper's and shaped more like a tube. His eyes glint as he hands it to Erik. "It makes sense this one comes from the first Volk in the pack."

When I glance up at Erik, he's staring at me with an expression I haven't seen before. If I didn't know better, I'd think he's feeling a bit shy, and my heart squeezes as he brushes a kiss over my cheek. "We decided this is better than perfume or chocolates, since you already smell perfect, and no one can beat your chocolate sauces."

I blush, unwrapping the heavy outer layer and then peeling back the brown paper, the scent of expensive leather drifting up to greet me. I'm not sure what to expect, but it's not the beautiful handmade knife roll on my lap. It's distressed leather, full grain and as soft as butter, but with sturdy pockets and slots, including one for a small recipe book and another for a thermometer or brushes. It's obviously old, but beautifully preserved, and the gold monogram on the front flap takes my breath away.

"Volk," I say softly, running my thumb over the crest. "Whose is it?"

"Yours," Erik replies. "But it belonged to my grandfather back in Denmark. He was an omega and cooked for the royal family at one time."

"Erik, it's beautiful!" I exclaim. "But this is a family heirloom."

"Then who better to gift it to than you?" he asks, and I realize this is a courting gift. Not perfume or chocolates, but something personal that I will use every day for the rest of my life. Every time I step into a kitchen, or reach for a knife, I'll now think of Erik and his omega grandfather. Casper must sense how overwhelmed I am, because he pinches my cheek. "Say thank you, and then cook him a big Danish feast, okay?"

I laugh, leaping up to hug Erik and thank him. "It's amazing. I'll treasure it always."

"And while that's a hard act to follow," Declan says, reaching for the last package on the piano, "I now have something' for all of us." It's the biggest of the three, and when he opens the protective sleeve, there's a silky black box with an elegant French name printed on the lid. "Lucky for us, I already had these on order."

Clutching the knife roll to my chest for safekeeping, I watch as Declan peels back the layers of tissue to reveal a set of decorative masks shaped like wolves. Two are made from silver, one is black suede, and there's a white silk pair. The last one in the box is child-sized and made from soft brown fur. They're beautiful, and clearly custom-made, but I can feel both Erik and Xavier stiffen behind us.

"Now, before y'all start to squawk like mother hens, give me a chance to explain."

Declan's comment is clearly directed towards the other alphas, and Xavier gives him a sharp look. "You can't be thinking of the full moon party."

Declan takes one of the silver masks out and holds it up. It's amazingly detailed, with prickly whorls of fur and the hint of canines in the jut of the snout. "Why not? You have to admit, we could all do with a night out."

He casts a quick glance Casper's way and Xavier's lips thin. I know they're worried about Casper, but he looks around, clearly confused by the change in mood. I quickly take one of the white masks out of the box and press it into his hands. "It's like something you'd wear for Mardi Gras," I tell him. "It's really elegant, with tiny feathers stitched into the white silk."

His thumbs brush over the fabric, but there's an uncertain pinch between his eyes. "The Boston club had a full moon party. They used to go on this hunt through the streets until they found an omega in heat. They'd drag them back, and well… it wasn't pretty."

My stomach clenches at the visual, but Xavier's hand comes down on Casper's shoulder. "Nothing like that is ever going to happen here," he says in a near-growl. "It's just a normal party with a few moon-themed additions."

"Exactly," Declan says, "and it's for new members only, so there won't be anyone on the invite list who'll cause trouble."

"What do you think, Erik?" Xavier asks, his scent still thick between us. "Could we all attend the party tonight without it being an issue?"

"The security is solid," Erik says slowly, staring at the mask in Casper's hands. "And the disguise will make protecting their identities easier."

"We'll still need to do something about their scents," Xavier says. "There will be other omegas there, but they're still going to be a temptation."

"Casper might be," I murmur, pressing my hand to his throat. "But my scent is so light, it'll barely register in a room full of omegas."

The alphas exchange a quick glance and I wonder what they're thinking. Has my scent changed? It's possible, given how much time I'm spending with Casper. But Declan distracts me, wrapping his finger around one of my curls and giving it a gentle tug. "Moon blooms. If I put in a rush order, we can fill the whole damn club with jasmine." He gives me a wink. "It'll be our little secret."

I smile back at him, and after another long look with Erik, Xavier gives a stiff nod. "Fine, but we use the private booth. And if anyone so much as looks sideways at them, they're out on the street and their membership is revoked. No exceptions."

I remember what Erik said about their one-strike policy for misbehaving members, and I realize Xavier is equally committed to keeping the club trouble-free. Who would have thought that the infamous Ferro club would one day be an omega friendly zone?

When Casper looks my way, his thumb still tracing the silky edge of the mask, I shrug and drop a kiss on his cheek. "Guess we're going to a party, Mr. Bright."

I spend the rest of the afternoon doing a practical assignment in the kitchen under Kelly's watchful eye. They're using a catering company for the party tonight, so she has some free time to help me, offering just the right amount of guidance as I work through a complicated blood orange tiramisu. Chewie is taking a much-needed nap next to the range, and Violet is sitting on the counter, eating chocolate chip cookies straight from the oven. She's wearing the wolf mask Declan bought her, stroking the soft brown fur after every bite, and I'm seriously wondering if we'll ever get it off her again.

Kelly has agreed to stay overnight to keep an eye on her, and my chest warms every time the other woman smiles in my sister's direction. Her open affection isn't something either of us are used to, since the only women at our father's estate are his beta housekeeping staff, and the occasional alpha associate he invites to dinner. He has a strict non-fraternization policy with the staff, and if he ever seeks out company for himself, he doesn't do it at the house. It's left the estate feeling even more soulless than it did when our mom drifted through the halls like a ghost.

I carry a lot of guilt from those days. Could I have helped my mom more, maybe given her something to cling to when she was feeling depressed? We barely spoke that last year, mainly because I blamed her for not stepping up and taking my side. But she was watched every moment of the day, and the amount of pills my father fed her, she stopped living a long time before she died. It was so hard to leave

Leaving Violet to move into the dorm almost killed me. But after my father forced the second hormone injection on me, living under his roof was no longer an option. If I'd stayed, I'm not sure what I would've done. I don't think I would've given up like my mom did, but I doubt I'd have been much of a role model for my younger sister, either.

An hour before the party, Violet and Kelly are settled in the media room with a bowl of homemade popcorn between them, and I head upstairs to get ready. The guys have been busy down in the club, so I'm surprised to find Xavier waiting in my suite. He's flicking through one of my textbooks but turns to study me when I enter the room. He's dressed in a crisp white tuxedo shirt and black trousers, his bowtie and jacket draped over the bed. Even though I've just split a decadent tiramisu with Kelly, my mouth waters at the sight of him. "Hey, Xavier. Everything okay?"

Those bottomless black eyes roam over me. "If you don't mind, I'd like to help you get ready."

There's an intensity to his voice that shoots sparks across my skin, and I rub my hands down my thighs. The assignment required me to wear my chef whites, but I've stripped down to a pair of yoga pants and a tank, and I can feel my nipples tighten in anticipation. "Is this a caregiver thing?"

A small smile pulls at his lips. "I suppose. I'm a little on edge about tonight and this will help me settle."

"Okay." The truth is, placing myself in Xavier's hands sounds blissful. Not only am I buzzing to feel his touch again, but I'm tired from a long stint in the kitchen, and the thought of getting ready on my own has me swaying on my feet. "I'd love for you to take care of me."

An approving rumble sounds in his chest, and he starts to fold his shirt sleeves back with elegant efficiency. When he's done, I cock a brow at the way his eyes narrow on me. "You look like you mean business."

He smirks as he leads me towards the bathroom. "It's a fair bet that when my sleeves are rolled up, I'm not thinking about work."

I just smile and lean into him, breathing in his scent. His approval keeps rumbling from his chest as he carefully strips me out of my tank, leaving me in my leggings and a sky-blue bra. I feel his gaze like a hot breeze on my skin, but he turns to drape a towel on the counter, setting out his bottles of homemade shampoo and conditioner. I expect him to steer me towards the shower, but instead he helps me onto the long marble vanity. "Do you mind if I wash your hair this way?" He slips a rolled towel under my neck and positions my head over the basin. "I don't think we have time for the whole shower ritual."

I immediately want to argue – I'm more than ready to skip the party for whatever he has in mind – but his hands are in my hair, warm water cascading over my scalp, and I sink beneath the blissful pressure of his fingers. As he soaps up my hair, the air fills with the potent scent of flowers, and I have to wonder if he's trying to mask my own mild scent.

When he's rinsed out the soap, he applies a coconut and frangipani conditioner to my hair and tucks it in a silk cap. He then turns to fill the tub, more sweet-smelling oils going into the water as he lights the candles around the edge. I don't move from the vanity, and when he finds me exactly as he left me, he gives another of those appreciative rumbles. "Good girl. Now, I'm going to undress you and put you in the tub."

I watch our reflection in the steamy mirror as he peels off my leggings and panties, going down on a knee to ease them off my feet. He then rises and unhooks my bra, his gaze intent as I stand passively in front of him. I've never acted so submissively in front of a man, let alone an uber alpha, and I think he can tell, because he drops a kiss on my cheek. "You're doing so well," he murmurs. "Thank you for trusting me like this."

I just nod and let him help me into the tub, dried rose petals lapping at my thighs. I sink under the water, and he eases me back against the pillow, a soft cloth brushing over my neck and shoulders. I close my eyes, floating like those rose petals, until he removes the silk cap and starts to comb out my hair. When he's done, he lifts me from the tub and wraps me in a pair of fluffy white towels. My limbs feel loose and molten, like warm honey is oozing through my veins.

Xavier cups my face. "Will you let me scent-mark you, Jasmine?"

I doubt any scent will stick to my skin after all the potent soaps and oils he's applied, but I like the idea of smelling like Xavier. "Okay. What do I need to do?"

"Stand still. I'll be using my teeth, but I won't break the skin."

I shiver at the glimmer of eyeshine in his gaze. "Can I touch you?"

"It's better that you don't," he replies, even though the admission makes him frown. "There's a fine line between scent-marking and bonding for uber alphas."

I nod, even though I feel a stirring of regret in my chest. Bonding is the last step in forming a pack, and I'm not sure where our courting is headed. I mean, it's obvious Xavier finds me compatible, but we're a long way from exchanging bonding bites.

It doesn't stop me shuddering at the first brush of his teeth, though. I've read enough about scent-marking to know he will focus on each of my pulse points, and Xavier chooses to start on his knees. He lifts each foot, my balance put to the test as his lips seal around the artery on the upper side. It's somewhere between a kiss and a sucking sensation, and my belly dips as he slowly turns me, applying the same pressure behind each knee. It's a vulnerable position, his hands tight on my thighs and the wet claiming of his mouth the only things keeping me from collapsing forward. He pauses as I'm wracked by another shudder, then turns me again, parting the towel to press his mouth to my groin. A whimper slips from my lips, and I can feel my folds growing slick at the raspy brush of his cheek. His fingers dig in, but he just repeats the process on the other side, his mouth trailing over my hip to my hand. There's a slight nip to his marks now, not enough to hurt, but I can see a faint indent on my wrist.

"Xavier," I whisper, and he tilts his head back, eyes burning pools as he peels his mouth from my skin.

"Do you want me to stop, Jasmine?" His voice is ragged, almost desperate.

"No." I think he might be asking me to stop this before he goes too far, but it's on the tip of my tongue to tell him to go deeper. To sink his teeth in and pierce the skin, even though a wrist bite is a mark of shame. But my body doesn't care, and my mind is fuzzy with need. "Xavier…"

It's like his name is a drug and we're both caught in its spell, because he lurches to his feet, his body heavy against mine. I want to wrap my arms around him, but I don't move an inch, our gazes locked as he studies me. He looks like he's just run uphill through a hurricane, but his fingers are gentle as they sweep along my cheekbone.

"Temple," he murmurs, leaning forward to brush his lips over the fading bruise. He barely makes contact, skimming the tingling skin, but I can feel my heart thud like it's racing to its last beat. The towel unravels from my hair, damp curls slapping wetly on my cheeks. We both groan as his lips slide down to my neck. He grabs a handful of hair, using it to tilt my head, exposing my pulse point. "Throat," he murmurs thickly. "Jasmine, I want…"

I press my hand to the back of his neck, my submission finally cracking. "Please, Xavier."

We both know what I'm asking for, and for a moment his teeth clutch at my skin. His scent is all around me, his body thrust hard against mine. Some distant part of me knows it's my scent gland and not my pulse point, and that a bite here will bind us together forever…

"I promised I wouldn't hurt you." Xavier takes a rapid step back, his hands curling into fists. His mouth is wet, but his eyes are searing. He blinks heavily, shaking his head. "But I have less control than I expected."

I wonder if I look as wrecked as he does, my pupils blown and my skin gleaming with his marks. I know that my towel is lying in a puddle on the floor and his hooded gaze is burning over every exposed inch. His nostrils flare at the slick trickling down my thighs and I wait for his composure to break, for him to reach for me…

His jaw flexes, and he clears his throat roughly like it's packed with gravel. "Will you… will you let me dress you?"

It"s the opposite of what I want. And I know he's fighting it too, because I can see his erection straining his tuxedo trousers, thick and eager to bury itself inside me. My thighs quiver, my skin flushing hot as I think of Erik's knot under my fingertips. I want to drop to my knees, to crawl to Xavier and bury my face in his groin. Then I want to strip him bare and crawl up his body until I can impale myself on his cock, planting his knot deep… "I think… Getting dressed is a good idea."

He lets out a heavy breath. Disappointment? Relief? I can't tell as he turns and strides to my closet. I stand in the middle of my bedroom, stark naked and swaying over watery knees until he returns with an arm draped in silk. Ivory, with flecks of silver, it's a waterfall of shimmering moonlight from a delicate halter neck. It spills from his hands to pool on the floor and he goes down again on one knee, reaching for my foot.

I stop him with a hand on his shoulder. "Underwear?"

"No," he growls, grabbing my thigh. "I need to be able to run my hand over you, feel your slick…"

Because we've shown so much control up to now. I give him a pointed look. "Xavier…"

He grumbles as he gets to his feet, another trip to the closet before he returns with a wisp of white lace and three-inch heels. No bra then, but I don't complain as he eases my feet through the barely-there panties, his nose inches from my slick thighs. "If you keep looking at me like that, I'm going to soak through the dress," I warn him.

"Good," he smiles, but it fades into another of those half-pained expressions. "I'm messing this up. The ritual demands worship, not slobbering over you like a horny teen."

I can't help but laugh. "I don't think you could slobber if you tried."

His lips thin, but there's a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "If you could see inside my head right now…"

"I like the view from here," I tell him, giving in to the urge to run my fingers through his hair. It's soft and thick and he arches up, rubbing against my palm like a cat. "You seem to spend a lot of your time on your knees around me," I joke, but my voice is a breath of tangled air.

And he doesn't help the state of my lungs by dragging that silk dress over every curve, his hands tracing the lines of my body. "If I had my way, I'd worship you on my knees every day. I can't tell you the pleasure I get from seeing you like this, wrapped in my scent and marked by my mouth." He fixes the halter around my neck then takes a step back. "And now I'd like to give you my courting gift."

"You've already given me so much," I protest as he reaches in his pocket. "And I don't need gifts. The flowers are lovely, and the knife roll is amazing, but I have simple tastes…"

The words die on my tongue as he opens a small velvet box, displaying the hair comb nestled there. It has a gold shaft and pearl teeth, with tiny diamonds embedded in the porcelain spray of flowers. "Jasmine," I say softly, brushing my fingers over the gems. "Xavier, this is exactly what I'd choose for myself."

"I'm glad," he replies and there's no missing the satisfied gleam in his eyes as he fits the comb into my hair. I wish I had more time to do something elaborate to really show it off, but once he settles the white mask on my face, they complement each other perfectly.

"You're a vision," he says, taking his jacket from the bed and pulling it on. "And as soon as the party is over, I'd like to talk about what comes next. I won't be able to settle unless we come up with a plan."

I reach up and touch his cheek, excitement bubbling in my stomach as we study each other in the mirror. "Party first. Plan later."