The old house at Wolf Trap had always been a fortress against the world, but for Will Graham, it had often felt like a cage for his own lonely, omega nature. The world was a place of betas, a monotonous sea where true alphas were near-mythic, their existence just a story told in whispers. He’d counted himself among the millions who would live and die without ever knowing that particular, grounding scent, that primal sense of completion.

Then he found her. Or more accurately, she found him. And he still, every single day, counted the impossible, dizzying luck that had made her his.

Pushing the creaking front door open after a long, grating day spent wading through the psychic filth of a new case, the familiar scents of home—old wood, dog, and coffee—were utterly obliterated. Replaced by her. A scent of clean linen, warm skin, and a subtle, intoxicating power that was uniquely alpha, uniquely hers. It was the smell of safety. Of possession. Of rightness.

He followed the scent into the living room, the day’s tension already leaching from his shoulders. And then he saw her, and the air left his lungs in a soft, punched-out sigh.

She was reclining on the sofa, bathed in the soft glow of a single lamp. And she was wearing… hell. A babydoll nightie the color of the softest blush pink, a confection of lace and silk that did devastatingly little to conceal the powerful, beautiful lines of her body. The delicate fabric contrasted wildly with the inherent strength he knew she possessed. She looked like a dream, a vision of sin and sweetness all wrapped into one, and she was all his.

His inner omega, that usually anxious and skittish part of him, didn't whine or fret. It preened. It purred with a deep, thrumming satisfaction. Look at our alpha, it whispered, a possessive, awed sound in his mind. Look how she waits for us.

His posture softened instantly, his body unconsciously yielding, his gaze dropping for a moment in a gesture of pure, submissive adoration before he dared to look back at her. He was home. Truly home.

"I must be the luckiest man alive," he murmured, the words hushed and thick with a devotion that shaped his entire world.