Craving The Wrong Scent

Valerie

I felt Sebastian’s heartbeat thundering against my palm as he buried his face in my neck, his body shaking with silent sobs. Even after ten years of this cycle, my wolf whined at his distress, desperate to comfort our mate.

Our mate who doesn’t want us, I reminded her firmly.

“She’s really done it this time,” he choked out. “She’s really leaving me, Val.”

I stroked his hair, the silky strands sliding through my fingers the way they had a thousand times before. “Shh, it’s okay. You’ve broken up before. Fifth time this year, remember? You'll always find your way back.”

It was only July. Five breakups in seven months should have been a sign that something was fundamentally wrong, but Sebastian didn’t want logic when it came to Chelsea. He wanted comfort. He wanted me to be his safe place while he fell apart over someone else.

And like the fool I was, I gave him exactly what he wanted. Every. Single. Time.

Sebastian pulled back, his amber eyes red-rimmed and devastated. God, he was beautiful even when crying.

“No,” he said, his voice cracking. “This is different.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a cream-colored envelope with trembling hands.

I opened it, and the world tilted sideways.

Chelsea Marie Hartwick and Jonathan David Prescott request the honor of your presence at their wedding…

Wedding? Three weeks from now? Chelsea was getting married to someone else?

A dangerous warmth bloomed in my chest. Is this it? I thought wildly. Is this finally it?

I had waited ten goddamn years for this moment. Ten years of watching Sebastian chase a woman who was disgusted by what he was. Ten years of being his everything except the one thing I actually wanted to be.

And now Chelsea was marrying someone else.

I forced concern onto my face instead of the barely suppressed joy threatening to break through. “Sebastian, I’m so sorry.”

“She sent me an invitation,” he said bitterly. “Like I’m supposed to just show up, smile, watch her marry some accountant and give them my blessing.”

I should have felt bad for him. Part of me did. But another part whispered: Good. Now maybe he’ll finally see you.

“Come here,” I said softly, pulling him back into my arms. He clung to me desperately, and I tried not to think about how right it felt. How this was how it should have been all along.

Eventually his tears stopped. “I need to do something,” he said finally. “I need to get her out of my head or I’m going to go crazy.”

A reckless and impulsive idea sparked.

“Let’s go out,” I heard myself say. “Let’s go to a club. Get wasted. Dance until we can’t think anymore.”

Sebastian blinked, surprised. I was usually the responsible one. “Val…”

“You dragged me to that karaoke bar last month. You made me go camping in the rain. The least you can do is let me pick the distraction this time.”

He sighed. “Okay. Yeah. Whatever.”

“Go home and change. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

After he left, I rushed to my bedroom. My closet was modest, practical clothes, but nothing flashy. Sebastian never noticed what I wore anyway. But there was one dress, hanging in the very back, that I’d kept for three years.

Sebastian had bought it for Chelsea before one of their breakups. Unfortunately, they fought before he could give it to her, and then, he’d given it to me instead, saying I might as well have it since Chelsea didn’t appreciate anything he did for her.

I’d almost refused, but something in me wanted to keep this one thing he’d chosen, even if he’d chosen it for someone else.

Now, staring at my reflection as I slipped it on, I didn’t feel ridiculous at all, instead, I felt grateful for holding onto it this whole time.

The dress fit better than perfectly. It hugged my waist, accentuated my hips, made my legs look longer than they had any right to be. The burgundy color made my skin glow and brought out the gold flecks in my hazel eyes. I looked like someone Sebastian might actually notice.

I let my dark hair down from its usual practical ponytail, letting the waves cascade over my shoulders. My makeup was nothing too dramatic, but enough to make my eyes pop and my lips look fuller. One last look in the mirror, and I barely recognized myself.

The dirty thought that found its way into my head made me smile. I grabbed my clutch, slipped on my heels, and headed out to my car.

Sebastian was waiting in the parking area of his building when I pulled up, and the look on his face when he saw me made every second of preparation worth it. His eyes went wide, his mouth actually dropping open slightly as he took in the dress, the hair, the whole package.

“Val?” he said, sounding almost uncertain, like he wasn’t quite sure it was really me.

I stepped out of the car, hyper-aware of how the dress moved against my skin, how his eyes tracked the movement. “What?” I asked, trying to sound casual even though my heart was hammering. “Too much?”

“No, I…” He shook his head, and I could see him trying to process. “You look… wait, are you trying to console me or are you planning to ditch me and have your own fun tonight?”

There was something in his tone that might have been jealousy, or maybe just surprise. I’d never dressed like this for a night out with him before. Never tried to look like anything other than his safe, comfortable best friend, but tonight, it was my audition to be his girlfriend.

“Can’t I do both?” I smiled. “Get in. We’re going to help you forget all about your ex.”

The club, Lunar, was already packed when we arrived. Bass thumping, lights flashing, and bodies writhing.

“I’ll get us drinks!” I shouted. Sebastian nodded but then spotted his friends across the room.

“I’m just going to say hi!” he called, already moving away.

I watched him go, trying not to feel disappointed. At the bar, I ordered whiskey while fighting off three different guys who thought they could buy my attention.

When I finally grabbed our drinks and turned to find Sebastian, my stomach dropped.

There was a girl on his lap. Straddling him, arms around his neck, body pressed against his. His hands gripped both of her ass, while his lips worked at her neck.

His friends were in similar positions, everyone having the time of their lives.

The whiskey glasses trembled in my hands. Around me, the club kept pulsing with life and music and people having fun, completely oblivious to the fact that my world had just tilted on its axis again.

Goddamn it.

This was what I got for hoping and putting on a dress he’d bought for another woman, thinking tonight would be different, but he didn't even recognize the dress. Chelsea was out of the picture and Sebastian was already moving on, just not with me.

I stood there frozen, watching the man I’d loved for ten years grind against a stranger, as my heart shattered into a million pieces.

I’d waited ten years, since I was thirteen, believing that being the good friend, the understanding one, the girl who was always there would eventually mean something. That fate and the mate bond would eventually win out over human women and Sebastian’s inexplicable attraction to people who never truly loved him.

But standing in this club, watching him touch someone else two hours after crying over Chelsea, I finally understood the truth: Sebastian didn’t want a mate. He wanted someone to chase. Someone to fight for. Someone who would break his heart over and over because the pain made him feel alive.

And I was never going to be that for him, because I had always been his. Where was the chase in that?

One of the whiskey glasses slipped from my hand before I realized what I was doing. It shattered on the floor, the sound lost in the pounding music as the splash of the liquid hit my shoes.

“Shit, are you okay?” The bartender was suddenly there with a towel, but I barely heard him. My eyes were locked on Sebastian across the room. As if sensing my gaze, he looked up. For one heartbeat, our eyes met across the crowded club.

He didn’t look guilty or sorry. He just looked surprised, like he’d forgotten I was there at all. Then the girl on his lap pulled his face back to hers.

Disappointed, I turned and walked away, leaving the remaining whiskey on the bar, and leaving my stupid hopes scattered on the floor with the broken glass.

Ten years, I thought bitterly. Ten fucking years.