Keya's POV:
I walked into my room, keeping the door open just long enough to motion him in.
James hesitated for a moment, then stepped inside. And that was when I saw it—the way his nostrils flared, how his jaw locked the second the scent hit him.
Rhys. Rafe. Me.
Our scents were tangled everywhere—on the sheets, the pillows, the air. The scent of s*x and arousal was too much to miss.
This was not the room of a grieving mate, and he saw it, he felt it and he hated it.
I smirked. My wolf snorted.
"The bastard deserves it... that night after he came back wearing Miranda's scent..."
"It hurt like hell..."
He swallowed hard, and for the first time in a long while, I felt good looking at him. Felt tall. Steady.
He looked... shaken. His shoulders too tense, like he’d walked into a place
