They’re my age and all incredibly attractive, but I still don’t have the foggiest clue why this wolf shifter thinks I should talk to his pack.
Teo steps forward, his brown eyes darting to the female and then back to me. “Falon, this is Bastien and Valen,” he says, pointing to the twins. “Ryker and Sabin.” The blond and the pretty boy with the tattoos both nod. “Siah and Knox.” Blue eyes and tough guy just stand there. “And this is my mate, Vinna.”
Her name sparks recognition for some reason, and I quickly try to sift through my memories for where I’ve heard it before. Her light green eyes are fixed on my hands like Teo’s were when I first met him, and something about that is prickling through me as important.
They’re all staring at me expectantly, and I abandon my memory search for politeness.
“I’m Falon, for those of you who I haven’t met. This is Ryn, Treno, and Zeph,” I introduce, pointing behind me.
“Are you all from here?” I think Sabin asks, or maybe his name is Ryker.
Crap.
“Uhhh, no. I grew up here, they didn’t,” I answer politely, and he nods once.
I get the distinct impression that I’m missing something. It’s not a feeling I enjoy.
“Soo, what’s up? I mean, your pack seems...great and all, but you could have just told me if you wanted your cars towed in a text, so why are all of you here?” I ask, cutting to the chase.
The female steps forward, her eyes jumping from me to my mates and back, like she’s sizing them up. I take her in warily, tapping into my core on instinct, just in case this meeting somehow goes south.
“Have you ever heard of the term Sentinel before?” she asks me, her nostrils flaring like she’s scenting the air for my answer.
It’s a very wolf thing to do, but when I also take a deep breath, in an effort to figure out what’s going on, I realize she’s not a wolf. She has hints of a floral scent, but it has a citrusy base, the tang of caster magic, an earthy tone like the wolf shifters do, and a cool scent that smells slightly metallic that I can’t quite place. I have no idea what she is. Caution weaves through me at her question.
How does this chick know that term?
Zeph releases a deep growl behind me, and everyone in the room tenses.
I narrow my eyes. “Who are you, and what do you want?” I ask evenly.
Maybe my looking around and asking about Sentinels and the Ouphe flushed out whoever these people are, but I can’t tell if they’re friend or foe.
“I’m getting cold, and honestly I could really go for a taco, so if we can just speed up whatever the fuck this is, that’d be great,” I add, feeling antsy, and an amused smile breaks over the female’s lips.
She carefully starts pulling off her glove and then shoves the sleeve of her coat up to her elbow. She holds her hand up, palm in, and I trace the marks on her fingers with surprised eyes. She rotates her arm to the side, and I see a full line of runes that run up the outside of her forearm.
Well, damn. I didn’t see that coming.
I stare at her marks on her ring finger. They stretch down past her knuckle, and she has different runes on her middle finger. My eyes snap to hers, and they’re filled with intrigue and curiosity while her lips are turned up in a knowing smirk.
I breathe her in again, focusing on the undertones of what I think are jasmine and orange in her scent, and realize what that means in connection with her markings. She is like me. Not in the Gryphon sense, but in the Ouphe sense—or Sentinels, as they go by in this world.
Shock and excitement filter through my dumbfounded thoughts. I was looking for information about Sentinels or the Ouphe so I could figure out how to get back to my mates. But now they’re here, and another Sentinel, one like me, is standing in the bay of my garage. I don’t even know how to begin to process this.
What does this mean?
I pull my sweater off over my head and expose the markings on my arms and chest. Her eyes widen for a fraction of a second before she schools her features.
“She’s about as marked as you, from what I can tell,” one of the twins observes, and we all just sort of stare at each other for a moment as though none of us knows exactly where to go from here.
I hear footsteps clomping down the stairs in the back of the shop, and Wekun waltzes into the garage, fixing the sleeves of his sweater as he announces, “Falon, I’m going to pop over to see—”
“You!” Knox accuses aggressively, and Wekun’s head snaps up in surprise at the snarl.
Wekun throws up his hands in defeat and rolls his eyes. “Always with the mate hate,” he grumbles incredulously.
“Wekun?” the female asks, confused, but it’s clear she knows him.
My eyes snap from Wekun back to...fuck, what was her name again...I blank for a second, and then it comes to me.
Vinna. Right. And with her and Wekun in the same place, I finally make the connection.
Oh shit, so this is Vinna? This is who he was here to check on?
“You’re here!” Wekun chirps in surprise and then shakes his head in
