He nodded. “Exactly. From what I can tell,” he tapped his nose, “you two are scent matched.”
He’d already said the same thing in the living room, but it was taking a while to sink in. Instinctively, I took a deep breath. I picked up Gibson’s scent, but not Nash’s. I didn’t know what mine was. A shifter couldn’t pick up his or her own scent. And if I couldn’t pick up Nash’s, then—
Nash shook his head. “I just met my mate, and you’re telling me I have to share her with him? I thought this scent matching was a Two Marks thing. I’m not from here.”
Gibson studied him, quiet for a moment. “You sure about that?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Nash’s back straighten. His mouth opened and closed. “I-I…”
“To be scent matched, you have to be a pure Two Marks shifter,” I clarified. At least, that’s what my research had shown. I wasn’t thrilled to possibly have that data proven invalid too.
Gibson knew this, but if he wanted me to point out the obvious, I’d add more on. I didn’t even know where Nash had come from, but it wasn’t from around here.
“Something you want to tell us?” Gibson asked, still watching Nash.
“My parents died when I was young, and I was taken in by my grandparents in the Wolf Ranch pack. My parents were from Wolf Ranch. At least… I thought they were.”
Holy. Shit.
Gibson pulled his cell from his shirt pocket, typed a message, then set it on the desk.
“I think it’s time to make some introductions,” Gibson continued. “Without fists. Cord, this is Nash Taggart. He’s part of the Wolf Ranch pack in Montana. Like Shelby and Marne. He brought Marne back this morning from a visit.”
I did my usual assessment when I first met someone. Usually, it was in my office for a medical visit. Nash was in his late twenties. Six-two. Two hundred pounds. Dark blond hair, cut short. Fit. Healthy.
“Nash, this is Cord McCaffrey. Medical doctor for the humans in West Springs and on rare occasions helps out with a shifter. Fortunately, it’s been a while since we’ve had anything catastrophic.”
Since his father had been crushed by a tree on a full moon run. Years ago. I’d tried to help, but I hadn’t even been a doctor then, and the injuries he’d sustained, even in wolf form, had been too grave.
Nash nodded in hesitant greeting. I didn’t blame him. I wasn’t too keen on meeting the guy either.
There was a knock on the door and Gibson called for the person to enter. It was Wade.
Gibson tipped his head toward Nash. “Wade, this is Nash Taggart.”
Wade shook his hand while offering him an easy smile and a welcome.
“Wade’s the head of IT at the distillery. I want him to look into your history. As alpha, I don’t have to ask if it affects someone in my pack.” Gibson glanced my way. Yeah, it affected me. “But I’d like your permission for him to dig around into your past. If you’ve got a scent match, it proves you’ve got Two Marks DNA. Pure DNA, meaning your parents were from here, and you probably have three, not two. My father, the previous alpha, would have known them, I’m sure. But I’m not the right generation.”
“All right,” Nash agreed with a stiff nod.
“Good.”
“I’ve got your name. If you give me your birthdate, I can go from there,” Wade said.
Nash shared it, and Wade left.
Gibson turned back to us. “There’s a lot to be answered. One thing is clear. You two share a mate.”
“I just met her,” I told him.
“Me too,” Nash added, his fingers clenching the arms of his chair.
Gibson held up a hand. “We’re not starting this again. She’s both your mate. I’ve never heard of scent matches never meeting before, especially before finding their mate. I have to say, this is a new one.”
He shook his head and grinned. I had a feeling he was enjoying the novelty of this.
I sure as hell wasn’t, and from the way Nash was glaring at Gibson, he wasn’t either.
“I didn’t even know the concept existed,” Nash said. “At least, not until Shelby met you and Ben.”
Gibson frowned. “That makes it complicated. You weren’t raised with the concept of two males claiming a female together. In all ways. You ever fuck a shifter with another male before?”
Gibson was straightforward and blunt. By the way Nash’s cheeks went ruddy, I knew the answer.
“In the Wolf Ranch pack, there are only pairs.”
“That didn’t answer my question,” Gibson countered.
“No.” Nash squirmed. “But it explains a lot.”
“Such as?”
He pursed his lips, and I wasn’t sure if he was open to sharing, or being compelled. “I’ve always thought something was missing. Several of my friends recently found their mates. Every one of them are good matches. Their love is powerful. But I always saw something lacking.”